Idiot Season has started early this year, I see.

Some clients have a singular talent for asking the most staggeringly inane questions that leave you wanting to do nothing more than beat them about the head with a sack of bricks.

"Why is the information you sent me in this email different from the information you sent me in the previous one?"

Because, you misbegotten wretch, you told us the information in the previous one didn't seem to be correct. We checked into it, found that was the case, and sent you the correct details.  And if that still wasn't enough of a clue as to why they were different, the explanation at the start of the second email should have been a hint.

A normal person might be content to attain that level of stupidity or, at least, rest on their laurels for a few hours. Not this individual, however. He then follows it up with a phone call minutes later to repeat the question, trapping Ted E. on the phone for many long minutes (demonstrating again that it's an ill wind that blows no good), before being passed through to me with another riddle for the ages.

"This email I've received about these external training courses... there are prices listed next to them. Does that mean they cost money?"

Yes. Yes, it does.

"So that means they're not free, then?"

Advertised starting times are approximate only

Ted always likes to maintain that he starts at 8am or earlier every day. It's part of his justification for leaving early on Fridays, and one of the excuses he uses for accumulating ludicrous amounts of flex time considering how much work he actually does during those hours of seat warming.

I know from when I was acting as team leader that he lies on his timesheets, because I could see the hours he was claiming and I was getting reliable reports from others as to what time he was actually turning up in the morning. And, of course, there were the surly glares I received anytime he arrived and found me already at my desk. That was probably the last time he had to at least be at his desk during the hours he claimed.

I arrived early this morning to beat the heat. No Ted. No surprise either, really.

Half an hour after his advertised starting time he finally wanders in, and then promptely disappears for another fifteen minutes to collect a coffee and exchange gossip. Then he calls up the traffic section to report another employee for putting rubbish in a garbage bin. "No, no. I asked them and they said they'd brought it in from home."

He stopped to ask someone where they got their rubbish from. Following a previous conversation where it emerged he stared into his neighbours' houses at night, this surprised me much less than it once might have done.

"Yes, I took their licence plate number down."

Presumably he'll claim the defense of our garbage bins on his timesheet. In fairness, though, it's probably the closest he's come in some time to legitimately doing something for the organisation.

"She brought it in from home, can you believe?" repeats the person who once tried to bring his old computer in from home to dispose of it here because it had a virus.

It would be comforting to dismiss him as a freak of nature, but these days I'm not so sure he is.

Something dimwitted this way comes.

Ted has returned from his month-long holiday and isn't wasting any time. Figuratively speaking, that is:

• Despite being having just come back from holiday, he's already angling for an extra long weekend (a plan that was swiftly sunk when I staked my claim to the day he was eyeing up. Honestly, I was already aiming for that day before he even started checking the calendar for his next day off. Even money says he calls in sick that day now, instead);
  
  
• a client rings up with a problem that they've been having trouble getting someone to look at. It's within Ted's area of responsopility, the fix is easy ... but rather than actually doing anything about it (even with The Invertebrate telling him "It doesn't matter, just fix them up") he begins stalking the area, piece of scrap paper in hand, questioning everyone as to whether they're the ones who left this for him to sort out;
  
  
• another client rings up for some information. Ted pulls out one of his traditional spiels and redirects them to our website (presumably one of the parts he hasn't been in sabotaging) where "you'll be able to read a little story about that". Ted doesn't believe in things as modern as blurbs or information. Everything that relays information in writing is a story to him. Which, really, says some pretty fundamental things about his ambiguous relationship with things like "facts", "truth" and "honesty";
  
  
• offering to take The Invertebrate to coffee to pump him for information on what's been going on while he's been away. The Invertebrate looked hopeful for a second, misinterpreting Ted's Pidgin English invitation as meaning that Ted had some important news for him (you could practically see the "Yippee! He's going to tell me he's retiring!" thought bubble appear over his head until he actually realised what had been said;
  
  
• "Have my duties changed while I was away?" No, Ted, you're still expected to do at least a token amount of work while you're here. You don't get out of them that easily.

Sadly, it's like he never went away. He's now busy combing through everything that everyone else did while he was away looking for things to complain about.

New Year, old tricks.

Today was supposed to be the Stress Fiend's first full week back at work since her breakdown and reduced hours last year.

She's phoned in sick.