I accepted a job with an English company for a job in Libya, which fell through. So they offered me work in their school in the East Midlands, and put me up in a guesthouse, and I thought wtf, a man's got to work. Just beginning to start week two of it and I'm not so sure. The big cheese seemed ok at the interview but now she seems to burst out of frequent meetings only to dash around the building, pointing at people, asking rhetorical questions, misunderstanding anything you might be foolish enough to utter, making tactless asides, and leaving only demoralization and puzzlement in her wake. It's as if she's got a big Mad Ideas Box in her office and she gets several out in a day and has to act on all of them immediately: in the most uninspiring and unconvincing ways, too. She reminds me of the bastard who owned Scabby College, a kind of Dotheboys Hall for middle class foreigners where Herself and I somehow managed to last a whole year. The big cheese owner of the s...