Throwing Stones at a Bouncy Castle

My suburban upbringing did not prepare me for the vicious nature of time travel. I have been cast back three years, and have the same feelings of angst, anger and confusion. Three years ago this vile brew was caused by post-9/11, post-millennial, and post-collegiate worry. This time these feelings are a kind of nostalgia, a fuzzy sensation that has been brought about by a Staff Meeting.

Wait. I should, before proceeding, tell you how my employer views me. I am a body. Nothing more nothing less. I have been told as much. Although my employer probably views me as difficult or a "trouble-maker". Why is this? Well, I question orders, I make suggestions, I am surly in the face of ignorance, and most of all, I have the experience to back all of this up. This is all very important when we take into consideration the sort of person that has branded me a "trouble-maker". We are dealing with a mind that is a fragile house of cards, made up of meaningless business jargon and our old friend False Authority. The foundation of this construct is an unyielding white noise, a nothingness so bleak that even Shackleton would refuse to explore it. Suggestions and experience can only provide a threat.

The dusty staff room was filled with more "bodies" than ever before. We sat, surrounding the table (the underside of which is an impressive collage of gum and snot), facing the guiding light, our leader. She laid down her demands in the style of a kidnapper, except we would not be guaranteeing freedom of any sort by submitting to them. The demands comprised of a series of basic instructions which did not need reiterating to the "bodies", and are too dull to repeat here. Bear with me, as II am merely setting the scene.
To my right was Spike, a veteran of the company whose tour of duty has nearly doubled my own. He is a bottle of rage and cynicism, and very sensitive to any injustice hoisted at our feet. Needless to say, I get on very well with Spike. We were both uncomfortable and listened to Manager as her list of demands progressed. Fear not, we were then given the opportunity to speak...

I began with the soft approach of "Health & Safety concerns". Manager assured me that these concerns were unfounded. What followed was an escalating us-versus-them cyclone of doubt, accusation and feeble excuse. I shall transcribe below:

"You are dealing with a demoralised set of staff. How do you propose we regain our enjoyment and passion for the job?"
"Just do your job."
"How are you going to solve the problem of understaffing, especially on days when deliveries need to be collected?"
"I'm going to throw bodies at the problem."
"What about cover for breaks, are you prepared to cover breaks?"
"No, I'm paid too much to do that work."
"Why do you always leave notes, when it would be easier to tell people what needs doing?"
"To keep standards."
"Do you not think it's patronising?"
"No."

This continued for an eternity. Every so often, the assistant manager would agree with Manager and repeat the exact meaningless point that Manager had said a moment before. Every concern was met with mumbling about "standards", until she said, "You can either get on board with me, or you know where the door is." What I need to stress is our concerns were about basic liberties that should be awarded for the worker. We were not challenging her position directly, or undermining what she wanted us to do. We were simply upset with the way our working world has deteriorated over the last few months. As "bodies" we feel bullied. Manager's ultimate goal is to flush all the experience and knowledge out of the working environment so she can replace them with mindless automatons. Who is watching her? As Stockton says, "There is no-one. The overarching management structure is a vicious cabal which will support each other's mindless bullying." We do not have a leg to stand on...

After the meeting Spike approached me and said, "Swiped aside," in reference to our concerns. Manager’s only reaction was to turn a blood red and become so defensive that she was wildly attacking us. She should have been listening. She is a little girl who is ignorant of the concept of HUMANITY.

I mentioned time travel because at one point in the meeting both Spike and myself slumped our shoulders. It was a sychronised slumping, our suspicion confirmed that the beast in front of us had no interest in listening to our problems. A temporal shift had taken us back three years, to when this vacancy had previously been our chief.

I could go on, but I don't like a rant. I am angry, and feel disenfranchised, marginalised and bullied. Knowing that quitting is what the "cabal" want just burns me up inside...

Dignity (The Lesser-Spotted Kind)

Recently I have been losing my dignity to "random" beeps. As soon as it sounds, I hang my head, for it means that I must be frisked - the shoes-off kind of frisk that you expect a kiss afterwards. In a new policy it is no longer down to the AVIATION SECURITY to select a person for the random search. The metal detector will beep, at random, requiring the member of AVIATION SECURITY to jump up from the chair he is lounging on and put his hands over your body and soul. The beep has selected me every time so far and, as I remove my shoes, I weep a little inside.

I only mention this removal of dignity because the insidious nature of the airport seems to have increased of late. With Easter there came not only increased passengers, but also a new commander in chief and a new deputy. These people give incompetence a new definition, but that's not the worst aspect of their reign - we're back in the territory of Fictional Authority, Notes and humiliation. All of the things I have been lamenting for the last few years have been embodied by these two interlopers.

But fear not, who needs dignity when they belong to the human race. Only this very day I have seen:

1. A man running towards the toilet, his hand cupped under his chin. Out of his nose and mouth poured a viscous liquid that looked like yellow snot. It had that foamy translucence that indicates some kind of mucus. But there was so much of it. As he ran, he caught the stream in his cupped hand, splashing remnants of this sick-snot all over the floor. His lack of dignity was caused by his own body. Christ, it was scary...

2. A man in the toilets speaking on his mobile phone. I finished washing my hands and selected the hand dryer next to wear he was standing (on purpose of course, I am not accidentally cruel). The roar commenced and he was forced to admit to his interlocutor that he was indeed in a toilet.
"Hang on," he said. "I'm leaving the toilet now." All very well, but he had yet to pack away, and zip up. He entered the public with his belt flapping, still talking on the phone. His own idiocy had removed his dignity.

3. A woman, changing her baby in the facilities supplied by the airport. The baby was crying, the woman simply yelled, "SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP," over and over again. Her dignity was removed by her own vicious streak.

I could go on, but I'm still thinking about the man with the weird snot problem. I feel sick...