What happened when I Googled “Council CEO passionate”? I got a horror show…

There’s a good story in today’s online Wirral Globe, all about how the new CEO at Wirral Council has sent a letter to all staff, setting out his stall and proclaiming his ‘passion’ for all things public service, and how he’s just like you and me because he supports a local football team, was born in Bootle and visited New Brighton as a child.

http://www.wirralglobe.co.uk/news/12902510.New_council_boss_aims_to_take_Wirral__forward_for_the_future_/

As you can see, he’s also reassured us he’s in ‘listening mode’.  But I question this, and have a very good reason for doing so.  To see why, follow here:

link

The comments so far on this story are far more revealing than the article itself and master of his trade Bobby47 is in full flow.  I do hope Mr Robinson is taking time to read the views of the people he serves.  It would after all make a lot of sense wouldn’t it?

The internet is a wonderful thing, because out there somewhere is the answer to every question, puzzle or enigma, and it exists either by design or by mistake.  The inspiration you’re looking for is here, waiting to be found.  It’s wading through the rest of the crap, finding it and applying it that’s the difficult part, especially if you’re being paid £175,000 a year to work to an internal agenda that seems to have boxed you in and excised the words ‘public service’ from every document, whilst binning the old-fashioned, pre-common purpose rules.

So off you go, flying your new desk, but hurtling in the opposite direction; spinning, jargonising, dissembling, frustrating and confounding…  and if you do it well, stay ahead of the game, keep the wolf of central government inspectors away from the door, you bank £14,583.33 at the end of each month and get patted on the back by relieved councillors and senior officers who’d been building up a sweat ever since the last bloke ‘got found out’ and made for the exit.

But why do you do what you do?  Here’s the killer answer:  because you’re passionate about helping the public  and not yourself, oh no – just like these stuffed shirts…

This is just the first few pages of rabid bluster.  It goes on for hundreds more…

21 04 15 passionate4 21 04 15 passionate3 21 04 15 passionate2 21 04 15 passionate1

About Wirral In It Together

Campaigner for open government. Wants senior public servants to be honest and courageous. It IS possible!
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4 Responses to What happened when I Googled “Council CEO passionate”? I got a horror show…

  1. Bobby 47 says:

    Bloody passionate! We all know what the real meaning of passionate is. We all do. It’s no mystery to us who live in the real world where blue sky thinking, sound bites and pointless gimmicks play no part in our mind numbingly boring lives that see us scramble from one month to another hopeful that we may just avoid increasing our personal debt and the Constable doesn’t catch us speeding two miles above thirty that’ll mean, to avoid the penalty points, we’ve all got trudge down to some Industrial Hut and sit there for half a bloody day listening to two retired Police Officers passionately dropping unboiled eggs on the floor howling, this is the wee infant child you’ve flattened and killed you evil bastard of a reckless driver.
    Passionate my neighbours left testicle! I know what passionate is and its bugger all to do with Eric’s use of the word. My first introduction to this delightful expression, ‘I am very passionate’ was the blessed day my Latin teacher, a wonderful and beautiful woman kept me behind after the lesson because I’d been playing with my genitals, pulled me pants down, mounted me and rode me rotten upon a chalk covered table. And, at the conclusion of this violation, I distinctly remember thinking to myself, ‘my God what a passionate experience that was’. And thank God it happened I say because that was the first time in my adolescent life that I became familiar with the word ‘passion’.
    I mean, presumably when Eric applied for the job of CEO upon the Wirral he must have been up against others equally as qualified as him. Clearly, nowadays within public service they must ultimately judge the candidates for the job on how passionate they are, can become or could become if ever they were made the winner of the contest. In Gods name, what must they have to do to demonstrate how bloody passionate they are?
    Clearly, when you are one of several applicants and you know, you just know it in your bones that you’ve gotta ‘out passion’ your opponents you must have to put personal pride and dignity to one side and perform like a demented nutter displaying the full range of your abilities to display just how passionate you are capable of becoming whenever they slide you a sheet of paper that contains three paragraphs of text that explain why a thousand paper clips were returned to the source supplier because they weren’t up to the job of holding together receipts and invoices for a thousand taxi journeys made by Councillors who didn’t fancy getting clubbed to death by concerned ratepayers who’d gathered outside the Town Hall desperate to start the culling.
    Whatever it was that won Eric this job, it was nothing at all to do with providing good service and good value for money to the rate paying people of the Wirral. It was, beyond any doubt in my mind, entirely about his demonstration of being passionate. God only knows what indignities that man subjected himself to and how many times he howled, ‘don’t pull me pants up yet. I’m having the time of me life bent over this oak table and I never want it to end’.

  2. Wirral In It Together says:

    Bobby, as the PR lady said to the chief executive officer AND the super director, your input is always welcome.

  3. Bobby 47 says:

    I bloody hate them! There’s a high flying public service fella down here, down the A49 in Hereford, where if someone shouts out ‘daddy’ everyone turns round, who’s out passioned bloody Eric. I forget this fools name and frankly it’s not giving me a moments concern, who has said, ‘I’ve an unquenchable desire and passion to deliver a positive outcome to our service users’.
    The bastard! The utter bastard. I’d like to meet this fool and stab him in the eye with a soft leaded pencil. My God, as if ‘ desire and passion to deliver a positive outcome to our service users’ wasn’t bloody enough. This passionate bastard of a bottom feeding, parasitical tic has to outshine the others and give me the rotten word ‘unquenchable’.
    ‘Unquenchable’! Sweet loving Jesus. My God. Just how far have you got to stoop before someone halts this bloody slide toward utter stupidity and embraces the idea that ‘talking rubbish’ was something that needed to be immediately punished. If, for some miraculous reason I could be gifted super human powers I’d become ‘ talking shit man’. Yes, Talking Shit Man!.
    I’d be at home, minding me own bloody business, probably recycling me bloody rubbish or masturbating again to the execution of Saddam Hussein on Youtube when my super human ears picked up a signal from within the Council buildings that clearly indicated that some ‘passionate bastard’ had either uttered some shit or was about to transmit some rancid undiluted bollocks of a phrase that qualified me to mutter, ‘Hi up, that’s a load of shit.’ Then, off I’d bloody fly at a remarkable speed wearing some bloody bright coloured jersey with the letters T.S.M adorned upon its front.
    I’d fly through the window toward the unquestionable source of the shit and I’d say, ‘you know who I am don’t you’, and he’d say, ‘of course, you are Talking Shit Man, you’ve identified me as someone who’s guilty of talking shift and you are here to punish me’.
    And I would! I’d drop a ten ton boulder on his head and tell him, ‘ if you can summon up an unquenchable passionate desire to release your flattened body from this ten ton bloody boulder, and it’s humanly possible for you to continue communicating your thoughts either verbally or via electronic transmission do not, under and known circumstances give me anymore shit.’
    And then, off I’d fly, back to my hovel of a home where I’d get out of my costume and continue minding me own bloody business hoping and praying that this ridiculous language and method of communicating a simple thought would cease and be no more!

  4. Wirral In It Together says:

    Got the flu here. Laughing, writhing, coughing, hacking and just nearly wheezed myself senseless.
    So Thank you for that Bob :))

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