I've been back at work 3 days after a three-week holiday. What a wrench going back was! In the first place getting up at a set time, packing a lunch and having to forgo a leisurely browse through the web and my E-mail over a second cup of coffee. In the past two weeks I've undergone three time changes. At work a parcel of relief supervisors; I suppose I should be thankful that I am held in sufficient respect that they allow me to do my job without micro-management. Although I appreciate being left alone without being checked on an occasional compliment or reinforcement would be appreciated but I expect too much.
I am greeted by my fellow worker with a litany of the latest bright ideas from upper management. If you get the impression that he found the light bulb cloudy you'd be on the right track. I don't know which is worse: the mountain of mail one can face on a Monday or the helpful suggestions of one's fellow workers as to what one may do with it. Retirement never looked so good. Eight hours later one gets to put on one's coat and go home for a well-earned afternoon nap.
Went online to the union's web site to find a .PDF copy of our new tentative contract—all 714 pages of it in both official languages. That's a mind-boggling pile of baffle-gag and symbolic of historic distrust. When will they learn that the adversarial model only makes work for lawyers or perhaps that the point—without it there wouldn't be cushy jobs for all those pompous self-important strutting union reps. No matter how many "i's" they cross or "t's" they dot both sides will find new ways to subvert the original intent of any agreement. Of course word is on the QT that we weren't sent this tentative agreement for our approval but for our sound rejection so that the great legal minds can go back to the table and attempt to add more chapters to a document that's already too long. I've been reading the youthful works of the Canadian Poet, P.K. Page and this afternoon it struck me; the work-week, when this was written was six days and probably 10 hours a day. I guess unions have done something for workers over the years—I'm just not sure I'm $70/month grateful.
It's winter break time for school-age children and there's been a lot of absenteeism at work. Is there a connection? With temperatures the last few days approaching the low teens in metric terms, the mid-fifties for those who think in Fahrenheit the ski operators will be crying in their melting ski runs. What with no snow over Christmas they have not had a good year. Today is overcast and balmy with Thunderstorms in the offing. I've run the dishwasher and had supper so I guess it's time I stretched out in front of the TV or got back into my latest book—The Eagle by Jack Whyte. It's only tangentially about Arthur. Somehow after the elaborately researched and expounded earlier books in the series Whyte seems to have run out of steam at the point where Arthur reached adulthood and assumed the throne of Camelot. It's a disappointment as I, and I suspect many others, was waiting with anticipation to see what he'd do with the legend. Having laid the background over a series of six detail-rich books I feel robbed that the author is not following Arthur and his Knights to the Round Table and beyond. When I've gotten further into The Eagle I'll review it in my sister blog. The book Clothar, which preceded the present tome was engaging but left one with an empty feeling of loss at the lack of the story that went in between.
No comments:
Post a Comment