Sample Warning Letter For Bad Attitude At Work: Fill & Download for Free

I was working in CID and was pretty much in the (largely non-existent, except when it suits colleagues and bosses) role of “senior detective”, in the department, despite having two colleagues who had undergone the same training as me (minus the Child Protection courses) and a Detective Sergeant, who kept snatching interesting courses (as in training courses - not “cases” as had been suggested in edits. He definitely didn’t want anywhere near the cases!) out from under my nose, as he “needed oversight of things” (preparing for the next step up, in reality) - and despite the fact that due to the calls and cases, which he and the other two kept punting to me, those courses would have been to my benefit and the benefit of those victims I dealt with.My wife, meantime, was working in a specialised role, under the aegis of the CID, dealing with overseeing all cases relating to Child Protection. She pioneered the role, wrote a paper on why it would benefit the area command (based upon her previous experience on a long-term secondment to the Force Child Protection Unit, at headquarters) and submitted it to the then boss, and he bit. Great idea, she was told. She started three months prior to being accepted into post, without ever really knowing about it (what I mean is, they decided she was already doing the job). She checked and rechecked every existing file to do with CP work, archived and live, and ensured that they all met the requirements of the Inspectorate, which was going around the country, dip-sampling cases, in different Force areas, at the time - just in case. It took her 18 months, and in that time she fell pregnant (unexpectedly, but happily). She had almost finished the work, and had only some tidying up to do - stapling and punching documents, which she had obtained from partner agencies, which had previously been missed, then they were to be files in the right files.Meantime, another female uniformed officer, with a background in basic child protection, and who we had both known in her first station (Aviemore), was transferring up to Shetland, onto a uniformed shift, having returned from her own first maternity leave, with her hubby, also a cop. He had worked with one of my brothers (whose judgement I now have cause to question) who called me and basically said he had volunteered me to help them out in settling into Shetland, any way I could, if I was “happy to do so”? This put me in the position of being a dick, if I said no, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt. I told Amanda about their moving up to Shetland and she messaged the female cop - who for the purpose of this story I shall call The Treacherous She-Snake. Amanda suggested to her that, as she was coming into the shift she had been allocated on a part-time basis, only, to begin with, perhaps she could help Amanda out and put off going into the streets until she was happier to do so and life at home with a wean had adjusted? Yes, The Treacherous She-Snake would be “more than happy to help”. Meanwhile, I visited potential properties they were interested in, sought out others and took numerous photos of all of them, inside and out, submitting them to the couple for their attention, with my own observations. I must have viewed six, at least and ruled out at least a dozen more, as unsuitable (never a word of thanks…).So Amanda went to the boss and suggested to him that TTSS would come into her office, part-time, and assist her with getting ready for the inspection, as the inspectors had announced by this time that they were, indeed, coming up to Shetland. She did so, with his blessing, and she carried out the bits and bobs of punching, stapling and filing while Amanda continued to screen every single file for omissions, mistakes and missing papers, and ready them all for the inspection. Having completed her side of the task, Amanda was suffering from pre-eclampsia, by this time, and had to be rushed down to Aberdeen for a few days, to be checked over by the gynaecologist there. He sent her home, with orders to rest and return to work in a week or so. Meantime, the inspectors had arrived on the islands.Now - my apologies, but this being The Police, a further bit of background is essential, as this Sorry take involves not one, but three twisted so-and-so’s, who came together in a collective “perfect storm” of backstabbery and maliciousness as has rarely been glimpsed outside your average stage on the ill-fated unlamented Jeremy Kyle Show - or the House of Commons (all three of the aforementioned being particularly fruitful breeding grounds for the sort of twisted f**kwittery and horrendously self-serving conduct that would have made Rudolf Hess weep into his bowl of Spandau sauerkraut).The uniformed inspector at this particular moment in time was an horrendous example of cadet policing gone wrong. She had joined as a child and matured into a full-blown gorgon, an outright harridan, desperate to make everyone fear her and so she behaved more masculinely and abusively - particularly verbally - than any male officer I have ever worked with (and I’ve worked with transferrees from Strathclyde! - Eh, Malky? ;) ). Every sentence directed at a junior officer contained personal insults, effing and blinding, and often my own personal kryptonite - the dreaded four letter “c” word (rhymes with hunt) - vile from the mouth of a male and seemingly all the more so from the twisted maw of a (alleged) female.While the two of us (she and I) had been working on separate shifts in Inverness, me as a uniform cop, and Baba Yaga, as I called her (long before John “f*cking pencil” Wick!), as a temporary Inspector, four years previously, our paths crossed, she and I. She was a Hindsight Hero - that is to say one of those types who had never been able to do The Job themselves, but who would, instead, peruse the previous 24 hours incidents and look for incidents she felt should have been dealt with “better”. Then she would add actions to incidents, even unfiling them, where other inspectors had filed them as complete. I had received a call, involving an old man who accidentally set fire to his house, a semi-detached. He had Parkinson’s and fairly advanced dementia and had been out of hospital for a day when he tried to light his pipe and dropped the match onto papers next to his curtains. When I arrived, at the locus, his front room was well ablaze, with smoke chimneying up the stairs - thick black smoke, the kind that kills quickly. He was standing in the living room, not moving. I tasked my probationer to get the neighbours out, heard that Fire Brigade were stuck in traffic and were at least ten minutes away and so I kicked his front door in. I got him out, into the garden and he told me his wife was “upstairs sleeping”. I looked up the stairs and thought “shit!” My probationer saw my face and begged me not to, but I went back in anyway. I found bath sheets in the hall airing cupboard, and soaked them in the kitchen sink, telling myself if I ran upstairs quickly enough, I could do this. I could do this!I got to the top step and quickly realised that, no, I likely could not. I went to my knees almost immediately, hacking and coughing, feeling the heat all around me drying out the sheet in seconds, burning my bare forearms beneath the now crispy Egyptian cotton towel. But that old lady was sleeping in her bed…. I literally crawled from room to room, searching over my head by hand, keeping my mouth to that diminishing air gap, just above the floor, but I found no one on any of the thre beds upstairs. I knew if I stayed any longer I wasn’t going home that night, or maybe ever again. I stumbled and fell back downstairs, finally realising what people meant when they spoke of “little sparkly things” in your vision, when hypoxic, and ended up in the arms of a fireman, who helped me outside and gave me oxygen to suck on for a few delicious minutes, interspersed by coughing up the lining of my lungs and what appeared to be chunks of tarmacadam, due to the preponderance of soot in my airways.I looked at the old fella and sorrowfully told him I hadn’t found his wife, when the neighbours overheard me. They came over and imparted the news that his wife had died three years earlier and he hadn’t been the same since, tapping their temples. I looked at the old man, while standing next to the Fire Master, also a trained Fire Investigator. We saw him try and light his pipe again, with trembling hands, only to miss and drop the lit match. The Fire Master smiled at me and said “There is your cause of fire, Iain.” (we knew one another of old). He wrote it up, I contacted Social Work and with the aid of a decent inspector on my shift, we had the old boy in a residential care home by the time he left hospital, the next day. I went back to work, with my head hair and beard a good deal shorter, and minus any hairs on my arms, due to the heat, and was later told by my inspector that he had already filed the incident and had had a call from the fire master, had spoken to my probationer and the neighbours, and was putting me in for a commendation - which I later received.Now, the purpose of all this is background, remember? Baba Yaga came on shift, after days off, saw this incident and decided (and you’ll love this, Malky) that the old man “hadn’t been interviewed under formal caution on suspicion of wilful fire raising and reckless endangerment”, “no Force fire investigator had been called or had attended” and my submission that “the Fire Brigade investigator had ruled on it” was “evidentially meaningless”. She unfiled the incident and added those actions, then told her bosses at the command briefing, that she had addressed a few incidents of “sloppiness”, on the previous days’ shifts, my own among them.I read her comments and thought, “WTF?” I spoke to my inspector and he assured me I had done all that was required, she was full of nonsense and he would sort it out. To be certain, I contacted our Force fire investigator (we had only one, at the time) and asked him about the Fire Brigade investigator. “He is plenty competent,” he assured me, “I hope so anyway, as he trained and certified me!” Armed with this, I updated the incident and left it to my boss to file it. Baba Yaga unfiled it. Rather than speaking to him, she came on shift early, with no tie or epaulettes, neck of her shirt undone, and her nicotine-stained lips and teeth drawn back and ready for battle (her fingers were similarly stained, as she rolled her own unfiltered, and smoked like a chimney). She approached me in an open plan office populated by two shifts, then in the process of changing over, my own being the officers going off duty.“Right, you lazy bastard,…” began her opening sally at me, and it got worse from there on in. I told her politely and respectfully (even calling her “ma’am”, which she appeared to hate) that my inspector had filed it twice, so perhaps she had best talk it through with him? I also passed on about the Fire Brigade investigator, or own Force fire investigator and his credentials, and finished with a repeated, “With respect, ma’am, shouldn’t this be a conversation you have with my inspector?” Her response was to screw her face up into a fairly hideous mask and yell at me, “Don’t you ‘with respect’ me, you cheeky f*cking c*nt, when I f*cking tell you to do something you’ll f*ckjng well do it or I’ll make you wish you had never been f*cking born, you c*nt! Understand me?!” I stood upright, beckoned over my probationer and informed her in my best “street voice” that I had been nothing but respectful toward her, despite the fact she wasn’t my inspector and wasn’t even on duty yet, and that if she swore at me one more time - “one more time”, I repeated - then I would arrest her for a Breach of the Peace. She told me I couldn’t do that, thunderstruck by my change in demeanour. Rather than being cowed by her, I had grown in height and adopted a more quietly forceful attitude than even her own. She could not process this….I assured her that whether I could or not was open to debate. What was not open to debate was that I WOULD. Her behaviour was more than competent to prefer a charge against her, were we on the street. “I won’t put up with it from them (pointing out the window) so what makes you think I will put up with it from you?” She opened her mouth and I said, as loudly and clearly as I could without shouting (years of dramatic practice in school plays and musicals helped!) “Do you understand me??”I then suggested to her that she had a ways to fall and that her pips were temporary, while I couldn’t fall any further. I had nothing to lose. I counselled her to “take a big step back, here, and consider your position.” She looked around and every pair of eyes was fixed on us, the entire area silent and agog. She wheeled and rushed out the door to the bathrooms. My shift then began to clap and cheer, as I thought, “Shit shit shit!” And my probationer said, “Holy f*cking shit, Sooty, you could at least have warned me you were going to go all ‘Stone Cold’ (Steve Austin) on her! I’m shitting myself, man!” Laughter ensued, which died when she suddenly returned and insisted on apologising in private. I told her that she had abused me in public, so she could apologise there also, if it was genuine. She ground her teeth, apologised and offered me her hand.My weakness? Decency, I suppose. I shook her hand, accepted her apology and that was that. I subsequently declined to make a formal complaint against her, when one of the sergeants who had been present (neither of whom had attempted to intervene) sent a Chief Inspector my way looking to have her pips taken off of her. That isn’t how I worked then, or now. (Now, her remains would never be found. Ever…. Kiddiiiiiing. Honest.)But then, four years into my stint in CID, several hundred miles away, in Shetland, who transferred up as uniform inspector? Yup. Baba Yaga. My sergeant had been in Inverness at the time and had heard the stories. I warned him anyway.To her credit, she never bothered me, other than to remark to my supervisor that I had “an issue with authority” (“Not that I’ve ever seen”, he replied) and she grumped at me, one day, that no one had done what I had done to her, in 30 years in The Job. I ignored the comment, as I didn’t want pulled into a slanging match. It was in the past, I told myself.How wrong I was.Because NOT to her credit, she went out of her way to damage my wife’s career. She took to TTSS like bread takes to butter. Like minds, I suppose.So while Amanda was off, resting, with her pre-eclampsia, Baba Yaga presented TTSS to the Inspectorate, during their trip, as the officer who had “taken such great care over all the files”, when they commended the area command on the high standard of work shown. They said TTSS was “a credit to the Force”, and “a great resource”, and this went straight into her appraisal folder, from Baba Yaga. Of my wife, not a single mention was made by either one of them. Sadly, the area Commander was also absent that week, as his knee had been badly damaged - a recurrence of a serious injury - and would eventually see him retired on ill health (the last decent boss I ever worked for, now the Convener of Shetland Islands Council).Amanda was distraught and felt betrayed. TTSS portrayed it as though she hadn’t realised she had been given all the credit. Amanda went off on maternity leave a couple of weeks later and TTSS strolled onto her post, to keep her seat warm, while she was off.When the time came for her to come back, the new Area Commander - an ineffectual lazy milksop and chronic lickspittle - called her in to his office. He had “bad news” for her. Despite the fact that the role was hers, and she was still formally on maternity leave, he was “changing the role somewhat”. This meant he was keeping TTSS in place, and that Amanda was going back onto shift.We were stunned. Surely he couldn’t do this? We sought out the Federation rep - a marginally-better-than-useless-but-not-much, toothless type, who talked a great game, but was, himself, holding down a post by dint of being mates with the previous holder (who just happens to be my brother-in-law). Eventually, after seeking advice from brother-in-law, Fed Rep comes back and assures Amanda “they can’t do this, not while you are on maternity leave - even in the Police - the job is yours”.However, the Divisional Commander (twisted soul #3 in our sorry tale of woe) - a malevolent, malicious little shit of a man - had already advertised the role, so “Oops! We will have to take it to interview, now, anyway!” “Oh no you don’t!” said Brother in Law, to Div Com, when I told him of this. Finally, the impasse was breached. Amanda was told she and TTSS were the only two in for the role, which had also merged in management of sex offenders (which had formerly been part of my role, as well as catching and reporting them, with Amanda assisting me in said management), and which Amanda actually already had all the training in, while TTSS had none! “Surely she scored more than XXXX on the required criteria?” Brother-in-Law demanded. “Oops! We didn’t apply any criteria! Our bad! Tell you what,” (and this next was word for word) “if Amanda turns up to the interview and answers the questions, which are on her role anyway, the post is hers, no question!” “Okay,” agreed the Fed Rep, as Brother-in-Law was off to Edinburgh, higher up in the Police Federation, by this time.So Amanda went for interview….. and came home crying. “It was awful,” she said, “They asked a ton of stuff that I wasn’t expecting, some of which isn’t even about Scots Law, but the content of ‘Megan’s Law’ (the American legislation)”. Wow. I thought. Oh no. “Who did the interview?” I asked. “The Divisional Commander came up to do it, with Inspector ******** from Headquarters.” Hmmmmmmm…..Then…. Rrrrrring. “Hi, Amanda, really sorry to tell you you didn’t get your job. Sorry about that.” Click brrrrrr.She was devastated. TTSS had scooped the post. She and Baba Yaga had won the day. Baba Yaga couldn’t attack me, as I didn’t report to her. Instead, she came at my wife and made her life a misery, because she simply couldn’t accept that she had been wrong to behave as she had, those years before. Playground bullies are like that.So rather than deal with her or TTSS face to face, Amanda went into her office, late one evening - or what had been her office, prior to her maternity leave, and found all her stuff had been cleared away. She searched the various desk drawers and found it all, stuffed at the bottom of the drawer, but then stopped, dead. Pulled up short by what she saw, lying in the top drawer of an open desk, face up.It was the list of interview questions, typed out, with details of where to look for the answers and points to concentrate on, all written in unfamiliar handwriting. She copied them all and got in touch with the Fed Rep. but he wasn’t much interested. So I spoke to my Brother in-Law, and he contacted the Divisional Commander, to say what had been found. “That’s impossible! I chose all those questions, myself, at random from the pool, only the day before the interview. She must be mistaken… or lying!” “No, because she has copies of the questions and someone’s handwritten notes on what answers to give.” Silence. Then “I’ll look into this.”Brother-in-Law got in touch and relayed this on to us, stressing the most interesting point. The Divisional Commander had stated he selected the questions personally, just 24 hours before the interviews. So “somebody” had obtained all these and given them - and the notes - to TTSS, to study for, in that short window of time? Hardly likely…. There would be handwriting to compare, was the best news, though. After all that is how police investigate matters of fraud and deception. Surely…?Meantime, Amanda was told she was going on shift, regardless, and TTSS was going into the role she had cheated her way into. Brother-in-Law dropped the entire affair into a chat, with the then-head of Professional Standards (one of the few decent types we have had, and who loathed the Divisional Commander). But Div Com heard about this, and “carried out his own enquiries”, when he became aware of PSC taking an interest.We heard that a Detective Sergeant, who TTSS had “worked with” (she actually had an affair with him, which hubby had discovered - hence their move North - one of many she was supposed to have had with colleagues and supervisors, during her time in The Job; some people feel a need to do so, to get on, it seems) had taken the fall for the questions and the handwritten answers. He had been innocently trying to help a friend and this was accepted by the Div Com, who reprimanded him. Then promoted him, because he was “an honest sort”. Because he has copped to the questions, no one ever checked the handwriting. No one ever explained to us just how the Det Sgt had obtained the exact questions, which the Div Com had stated he had selected personally, only 24 hours before the interviews. Some questions are only answered when you are above a certain rank, it seems.Meantime, TTSS was investigated by Professional Standards. They found she had reams of answers to probationer exams, as well as other Force examinations, tests and assessments, as well as the Force driving exam (written section) and she had been busily distributing this to probationers, and other officers, over several years, incurring favours, which could be collected upon later on. Several probationer officers - at least eight - were binned as unfit for service, following the investigation, due to their use of such dishonest means to pass examinations and tests. What of TTSS? She transferred back south, cuckolded hubby in tow, and was given “a verbal warning” by the Divisional Commander. Within a matter of months, he had her acting up as sergeant and then, at the first opportunity he gave her full sergeant stripes, making her up to Detective Sergeant, doing what she would have been doing in Amanda’s role, as a PC, in Shetland.The kicker? I was later assured, by a senior figure in the Crown Office, that it was common knowledge that TTSS and the Divisional Commander had (allegedly) had an affair, when he was a lowly Det Sgt working alongside her, years previously (spotted a pattern yet?).The twist of the knife? The Divisional Commander fabricated a tale, involving some information I had passed to my inspector, which identified a previously unknown source for a breach of confidentiality, locally. Div Com and his lackey decided I had “protected” the source, who I had never met, by not naming him in my operational statement (I didn’t know his name when I wrote it, but had him named to me, later, by my own sergeant, who knew the family. The Div Com also took issue with the fact I had discussed the matter with Amanda, while she was on maternity leave (as I said, she managed sex offenders with me, so knew all the players), ignoring the fact that the other members of my department had all discussed it with their wives, none of whom were or ever had been serving Police Officers, and he later reported us both to the Area Fiscal, on the most tenuous (fabricated) grounds he could, rather than handing the matter over to Professional Standards (who were mightily pissed off - and intrigued - by these machinations of his). Once again - and within days of the ill-fated interview, right after Amanda had told the Fed Rep about the evidence she found (which might well have implicated him) - the Div Com had “satisfied himself” that there was “ample evidence” to support his allegations about us both being untrustworthy. He was never able to produce this evidence, instead insisting he had it - even telling all my peers, in local partner agencies, that he had identified me. He suspended me from that aspect of my duties and denied Amanda her role on the basis of us being “untrustworthy”, when the Area Fiscal informed him there were no grounds for any complaint against us.He passed the enquiry on to Professional Standards, thereafter, and they scrutinised it (the old boss, his nemesis, having been moved on, by the Div Com’s sponsor and fellow Lodge member, the Deputy Chief Constable) before they ruled I had been guilty of a “technical breach of confidentiality”, as I had discussed it with Amanda, and she “was not a serving police officer while on maternity leave.” I subsequently spoke to a senior Crown Office figure, whom I knew, to enquire about this point, and they assured me this was garbage. They suggested I request this ruling in writing. I did so and this was declined. I was told to accept my guilt and move on. Let us be clear, had they said, “yes, here” and provided evidence of such, I would have accepted it as a learning pint and moved on. However, they refused to do so. What is more, at the relevant time, my wife still had her warrant card and was merely on maternity leave, therefore she was still a serving police officer, never having been relieved of duty, suspended or required to hand back her warrant card by the Chief Constable. She was still subject to all the standard terms of duty and confidentiality.Still, the Div Com wouldn’t budge and told her, in a rather personal and heated call, which he made to her, in my presence, that she was “dirty” and he knew it. That was good enough for him. “I’m warning you, I have evidence that could destroy your careers.” he blustered. She dared him to go ahead and asked why Prof Standards had never been given it?She then made a detailed complaint against him, sixteen points, in total, against the advice of the Fed Rep. The Force investigated, interviewed us both (Professional Standards - again - only decent types this time) and she was ultimately assured, in writing, that no such evidence existed as he had alleged, that he had been found to have failed in fifteen of the sixteen points and she then received a hand typed letter, from the Head of Professional Standards, hand delivered by the new acting Divisional Commander, who shook his head, seated at my dining room table and said to me, “This is the biggest pile of pish I have ever seen in my puff! What was he thinking, the trumpet?!” The letter was five pages of outright apology - formal apology - from the head of Prof Standards, on behalf of the Chief Constable, for the manner in which she, and I, had been treated. The new Div Com said he had never ever seen a letter like that, from HQ, in all his days, but we had a new Chief and the old Div Com was being sidelined, “out of favour”. He retired shortly thereafter. A waste of oxygen and skin to the bitter end. As twisted and morally bankrupt an individual as many of those I have locked up, in my time.Finally, my wife was vindicated. I still had my “verbal warning” for my “breach of confidentiality” on my record, I was told. But when I asked for a full copy of my entire service file….. there was no mention of any such proceeding, or warning, which had been given verbally, by one of the sleazebag’s lickspittle lackeys. Go figure? I retired a couple of years later, without a single blemish on my service record.The motto of this incredibly long, interrelated and intertwining story? Don’t ever believe there are no depths to which bosses will not stoop, in an effort to shaft you, or to try and protect themselves. Or their (alleged) mistresses.Here endeth that particularly rum lesson.

Thanks for A2A.What Facilitates AnalysisA study of the following facilitates analysis :-The size of the letters.The style of writing based on lines.The spacing of lines and words.Letter formation.The angle or slant of writing.It's also important to know the age and educational standards of the writer. Obviously an old man's hand will be shaky when you compare his writing to a relatively younger person.The interpretation of the writing or the written script is common for both men and women.Analysis Based on Size of LettersThe size of the letters is indicative of the following:-Very Small Writing: Tiny writing indicates the artistic nature of the writer. People with this style go into the details of whatever they are doing. Generally they specialise in a particular field. They have an aim in life and do not waste either time or energy.Small Size Writing: This indicates an intellectual and scholarly person with a keen sense of observation. These people are meticulous and methodical and are destined to do well in life.Medium / Average Sized Letters: This is characteristic of a methodical and well-balanced person with a healthy mind. They are suited to business rather than service. Worldly-wise, they can grasp things quickly and well despite being relatively less educated.Large Sized Letters: They show an active and restless mind. People with this handwriting are large hearted, self reliant and can influence others quickly. Very talkative, if they concentrate more on themselves, they can succeed easily.Very Large or Huge Lettering: People like these feel that they are important. They cannot face criticism and therefore are definitely successful.Constant / Same Size of Letters: This is indicative of a methodical mind.Decrease in Size of Letters: Writing like this indicates a great level of cunning.Increase in Size of Letters: Handwriting that gets larger indicates great frankness.Analysis Based on Level of WritingStraight Lines: If lines are straight, the person has will power and determination. If they are absolutely straight, the person could be rigid. If a little irregular, the person has skill in many fields or has the capability to acquire one or more.Downward Slant: A downward slant is indicative of a dismal outlook. These people are pessimistic, moody and gets discouraged easily. If the writing has a prominent down ward slant, then they should be cautious because they can be foolish. They may try to get others sympathy by expressing this quality. If a person is not well physically and his or her writing has an extreme downward slant, it is not a good sign. It should be taken as a warning.Upward Slant: People who write this way are usually ambitious. They are also optimistic. If your handwriting has an upward slant, you probably can talk a lot, could be over-confident and sometimes unreliable. If the slant has a slight upward trend, then it is a good sign. If the slant is very steep, all these qualities are exaggerated.Irregular Lines: If the lines go upwards, but only towards the end of a sentence, particularly near the bottom of the page, they indicate a strong personality. Such people are courageous even in adversity.Falling Lines: If at the end of a line and at the bottom of a page, your lines fall, it means you get irritated and worried easily. You are weak and prone to stress.Dipped Lines: Lines which dip in the centre and rise again later indicate a half-hearted approach to work. People with such a hand start on work half-heartedly, with no purpose. Later they get enthusiastic and finish the task well.Humped Lines: These are lines that rise in the centre like a hump and then dip once again. These people start work enthusiastically but soon get discouraged and leave the task mid way.The significance of spacingLine Spacing: This is an important aspect of hand writing analysis. It proves how important it is for the analyst to have a number of samples of a person's writing to provide an accurate judgment of an individual's personality traits.Close Spacing: If the lines are very close to each other and have no space in between, they show a confused personality with diverse thoughts crowding the mind.Average Spacing: These people are never in a hurry. They are casual and clear in thought, and in their day- to -day behaviour. They are well balanced and fair in their dealings.Wide Spacing: Many famous personalities possess this type of spacing. They are methodical careful and intelligent. Overall these are people with strong character.Connected Writing: When the letters of each word are connected it is called connected writing. These people are firm, bold, clear, and are positive attitude. They work in a refined way and are perfectionists. It is the mark of an outright sceptic.Broken Writing: Here, a few letters are disconnected. This type of writing indicates an ability to judge human character. Their writing looks rhythmic and signifies a fine flow of thought and interspersed with quick inspirational touches. It is indeed the writing of intelligent people.Disconnected Writing: Here every letter is separate. These people live in dreams and have a poetic mind. Inevitably, this is a person who loves art and nature. Do not confuse this handwriting with printed letters.Cramped Writing: When the words are cramped they indicate people who are extremely expressive. Those with this type of writing are cautions about money matters, bargain a great deal and are suspicious by nature.Spaced Writing: When words are very far apart, they belong to people who expressive but extravagant. Exhibitionists, they are socially active and fond of good life. They can never be systematic and are usually spend thrift. They forget things easily and should be careful in money matters.Some Finer Points of Judgement/Analysis Based On Letter FormationRounded Letter: Writing of this type has rounded formations. It seems as if the writer has written in comfort and at leisure. These people are lazy, luxurious, and hate to do hard work. They have all the time in the world to chat but still think that they are busy. However, they are also peace- loving, law-abiding and crave the better things in life.Block Writing: These letters are plain simple and unadorned. The writing is straight. People of this type are hard-working, meticulous and practical. They are generally busy and are reserved by nature.Angular Writing: This is distinguished from 'Block' and 'Round' types of writing. People who write this way are full of energy and life. They want to lead people but are aggressive and desire quick results. They do not take criticism well. If the writing is too angular it shows a person as money-minded. If moderately angular the writer could be wise, loving and experienced.Single Letters: If the size of the letter does not change, it indicates that a person is very careful and conscious. These people never neglect their duties and are careful to finish whatever task is assigned to them. They are usually absorbed in the minutest details of any work that they undertake.Irregular Letters: Writing of this type is full of large and small letters. These people are rarely reliable and could be fickle. They take the most convenient route to anything.Small to Large Letters: Writing of this type indicates restrained behaviour. These people are eager to express themselves, work hard and want to get success through honest means.Large to Small Letters: This shows a tactful and friendly nature. People like this make good use of their connections. They are fair in all their dealings.Finer Significance of Angle/SlantOne of the most important aspects of graphology is the angle or slant of a person's writing. This needs special study since the variations though minimal, are significant.If a slant is at 60 to 70 degrees, it shows the person as sensitive, emotional and imaginative. They get aggressive at the slightest provocation and have an intense nature. One should be very careful when dealing with them, since they get excited very quickly.If the slant is at 70 to 80 degrees, these people are very generous and very kind. They can make others happy and this helps them build careers. They share their happiness with others.A slant of 80 to 90 degrees is very common. This style is widely used and has a slight tilt towards the right. It indicates a cordial nature and a friendly attitude towards others. These people are genuine and usually take things easy. It is not difficult to manage people of this kind.If the slant is right-angled at 90 degrees, it shows a selfish nature. These people are analytic and unemotional, but could also be sincere and reliable. They always recognise obligations and hence prove good friends.If the slant is at 100 degrees, it indicates that the person remembers all the good and bad things that have happened in the past. It shows a nature that is suppressed and controlled, and which therefore could collapse when faced with problems and difficulty.If the slant is at 120 degrees, the person is cold and self-centred, and has no respect or regard towards other.

Risking money with an unknown, unregulated technology might seem mad. But that's exactly what the growing community of virtual currency Bitcoin users are doingBefore i continue, Incase you are worried about what all these cryptocurrencies might be heading to, DON’T GIVE UP!!! I almost gave up too until i came across CryptoFXnetwork Cryptocurrency Investment Platform (www . cryptofxnetwork . com) where i get profit on my invested cryptocurrency after 10 trading days. Don’t be left out. Be like me. I still believe in Cryptocurrency.Note: This is not in any case of me trying to lure you into anything for my own personal financial gain, i am just innocently sharing with you what works for me. You can also make a research on what works for you too.Bitcoin with one of the virtual currency community's slogansThere is a future when the City of London really doesn't sleep:Trading still stops on the Stock Exchange at five sharp, but the banker doesn't stop. He just switches kit. He checks his bespoke Bitcoin miner humming away on the corner of his desk. 0.6 coins mined this year, not bad. Then he opens up his Bitcoin exchange apps, along with the Google Maps plugin that shows Bitcoin exchange rules for local pubs. The game is on: it's Bitcoin Hour.He runs from bar to bar, prodding live trades of Bitcoins into a touchscreen wrapped round his wrist. He chooses where to go by balancing live prices with the risks of each pub's rules. If he gets stuck at the back of a scrum at a temporarily underpriced bar, the 10-minute rate will revert to something less favourable, and he'll be left drinking slower and at a higher price than the others. Underground dives always offer better rates, but he risks losing enough 3G signal to make a last-minute trade before the bill comes in. Drinking in the City is no longer about overpriced champagne, it's about a personal rating on the Per-Pint futures index.I was shocked at recent online survey results: 69% of UK respondents had heard of the online currency Bitcoin, and of those 32% trusted the currency. The survey was a quick piece of work done partly to promote the first Bitcoin London conference this week, and I worry that the sampling is biased towards super-hip kids with tablet devices. But even so, that's pretty amazing.Bitcoins are nothing more than strings of computer code – just like all the other packages of data uploaded and downloaded across the internet. They have value because it's hard to create these particular sequences of code; they are solutions to an ever-changing maths problem, modified to make sure – at the moment – that approximately 150 coins are produced an hour. No more than 21 million coins will ever exist. If you want to understand why, the Bitcoin Foundation has a good wiki explaining the basics.No bank certifies Bitcoins and no treasury has declared it legal tender. They are worth only as much as other people's desire to use them. A recent profile of Bitcoin entrepreneurs argued that "to be a Bitcoin user is to be a Bitcoin evangelist". They are traded on a shared belief that these sequences of numbers and letters are worth something. It is a technology created completely by faith.So why are people willing to trust an unregulated technology that poses immediate financial risk? It seems odd given that public trust in science and technology depends directly on the organisations that develop that technology. In the latest Public Attitudes to Science Survey in the UK, 84% of respondents trusted university scientists. 56% trusted industry scientists.One of my crib sheets for this type of issue is a short paper put together by two Cambridge philosophers for a government advisory group that looked at science and trust. They start from the idea that we always trust someone to do something. Trust is not some kind of wholehearted love-in. It's much more specific than that. I tried to pull apart the different organisations producing, trading and investing in Bitcoin, and work out who is being trusted to do what – and whether I would give them my money.Trust to do what? Algorithms, market traders and nightclub ownersTrusting the maths of Bitcoin makes sense. Most of the computer code behind it is publicly available, meaning it has been checked over by lots of programmers. The algorithm that limits the supply of coins also verifies transactions between anonymous users. So there is a record of when the coins are bought and sold.To get Bitcoins from cash, you need to go via a Bitcoin exchange. Mt. Gox is by far the most popular. I got a bit uneasy using their site: wiring money to a branch of a random Japanese bank, with annoying overseas payment fees attached; waiting two to five days with no guarantee that funds will turn up in my account with the exchange (they haven't yet). Once the money clears, I can buy Bitcoins at the current market rate. Although, be warned, the market is much more volatile than, say, stocks and shares. One Bitcoin was worth £65 on Monday and now only £48. But at least using Mt. Gox is safer than meeting up in Union Square in New York where you can trade $50 dollar notes for Bitcoins exchanged via Android smartphone apps.After I have my coins, I can then transfer them to my virtual wallet on my iPhone. (Apple has disabled apps with a live link to a virtual currency exchange). And I can choose when to spend them. Not that there is much choice in the UK just yet. There is only one pub that accepts them. Luckily it's near my house.Getting involved with companies that have sprung up around the currency is a much riskier bet. These are the online currency equivalent of nightclubs; daring investments that survive on only their hype. Private exchanges like Coinsetter manage your purchase of Bitcoins for you. The Winkelvoss twins, who once sued Mark Zuckerberg over the ownership of Facebook, have registered a Bitcoin Trust, which will invest in Bitcoins. They hope to operate in the same way commodity–based funds invest in precious metals. And just to mess up metaphor and reality, one New York nightclub owner also runs one of the first Bitcoin payment processing software companies.Venture capitalists are very excited about these companies. Over $10m were invested in Bitcoin start-ups in the past three months. But it's still very early days – there are more investors than there are companies. I find this all a bit strange when it's not clear exactly why Bitcoins are valuable. I have no idea whether I would be investing in a nightclub or gold bars.Being your own bankPutting my faith in Bitcoin is much easier than nanotechnology or nuclear power. So far, I have not trusted the currency to do anything much. It doesn't raise fears about tiny robots taking over the world, or debilitating illness from radioactive exposure. Nor do I have to hand over much control to anyone else – this is an algorithm not a bank. The Bitcoin founders' hands-off approach makes the public's usual questions about how a technology is created less relevant.However, if the private Bitcoin exchanges and investment companies take off, there will be a different story. This would attract the attention of regulators. Crowdfunding peer-to-peer lending platforms went through this when they began to compete with banks' small business loans. UK crowdfunders are now pushing hard for self-regulation, setting out a code of conduct.For some, Bitcoin stands for something much bigger. It is a statement of distrust in banks, and the desire to find an alternative – any alternative. This is certainly the motivation behind Freicoin, an alternative to Bitcoins used by the Occupy movement. It devalues over time, reducing the incentive to save. Switzerland has had an alternative currency system to aid local trade since 1934.Other technologies that bypass the bank are popping up all over the place – peer-to-peer foreign exchange, open source software to analyse financial market risks or an interplanetary payment system for the space tourists of the future. But Bitcoin is today's flag-waver for distributed, accessible finance. I hope it's around for a while. It's an interesting experiment in negotiating how to trust digital technology. And if technology can help us do anything, broadening the financial powerbase is not a bad place to start.