Only recently I was reminiscing about the short lived staff suggestion box in the Royal Bank of Scotland. It was one of the few things about my time working there I rather liked.
Naturally not one of my suggestions was taken up -though they did once start issuing a standard letter I'd rewritten to customers. For all the good it did. Who knew the elderly middle classes were too stupid to read? Clowns the lot of them! The one spark of joy in all this is the thought of them losing their savings. Mind you I expect they'll all be frantically relocating the children's cash inheritance to Eire. God help the poor Irish bank workers they'll be plagued with moneyed loons calling up asking 'why are you Irish?' and getting in a strop about them taking 'English jobs'. Take a tip from me I spent years telling them they'd put their money in a Scottish bank based in Scotland and that a lot of folk in Scotland were Scottish but that I'd be delighted to close their account if it was a problem. Not once did I get one of them to close their account. Bastards.
Anyway in a moment of compassion I decided to cheer up the poor sod charged with the task of wading through the staff suggestions by adding at least one every day. You should have seen some of the pitiful crap my colleagues put in. 'Please fix the toilets on the fourth floor', 'can we have a kettle please?', 'why does Fred Goodwin never visit our office?'. At least I was looking at the stars. I demanded a pet's corner, more holidays, flexi time, a pay rise, a lovely canteen, a boycott of Saudi Arabia more training, secondment opportunities and doubtless the moon on a stick.
Mind you I also demanded that the bank be nationalised and run for the enrichment of the workers. Could someone be paying attention at long last? That was the last one I expected them to adopt!