Dear Blog,
A while back, I shared with you some of my experiences at the entirely fictitious airline known as Teutonic International Transportation Service (or TITS, for short). Apparently, some people decided that despite my careful insertion of a disclaimer, they should take my posting seriously and I was actually approached by someone about the post, telling me that describing any place of employment as Merde Hill was just too horrible and disrespectful and that therefore this person would have to "defriend" me on FaceBook...
Alas, some people have their senses of humor so carefully buried under layers of I don't know what that they can no longer even step back and laugh at the world, even when the world - be it work, friends, life in general or our own actions - is truly comical or sublimely ridiculous in so many ways.
Now, Blog dear, please don't be offended by my long absence. I wasn't neglecting you or trying to be mean to you. You should know that during my mute period I actually composed several entries - one a scathing review of why South Africa is simply nowhere near ready for FIFA, the other an abject castigation of the country's parastatals (also known elsewhere as state-owned or state-controlled monopolies). Both were very vitriolic and made for good reading, but not that good - after all - these two topics already have been covered ad nauseam elsewhere.
Here, for example, is a fabulous link on why South Africa is not ready for FIFA - quite definitive, really. Likewise, here is a link to the best explanation as to why South Africa's parastatals suck - my point exactly.
But for now, back to TITS.
Ah, TITS, you fair-haired Brunhilde amongst the world's air carriers! In truly Teutonic fashion, you are about as graceful on the world's stage as a hippopotamus in a tutu!
After my last diatribe, as I've already pointed out, things worsened. Not just a little, but dramatically. (Just like those italics!) Let's recap - at fabulous Merde Hill, as I've chosen to name the hive in which the entirely fictitious worker bees (or ants) and their many layers of keepers (or soldier ants or bees) and ubiquitous drones and their Queen toil away 24/7, 365 days a year, things have "hotted up," as South Africans like to say.
Not too long ago, after the worker bees (or ants) were told to suck it up - it was just plain and simply "tough dung" that we had stress and too much on our plates and that there was no way the load could be reduced or the stress somehow lessened, the load got even worse. People were freaking out, shouting into communications devices, threatening to walk off the job. Some of the worker bees (or ants) were even beginning to talk in dark corners. Could they have been plotting an overthrow? Or worse, could they have been getting ready to walk out en masse - leave the protective warmth of the hive and chance venturing out into the sunlight, free from the accustomed fumes of body odor, bad breath and farts and dung they customarily endure?
In the meantime, however (as this post is requiring several days to compose) either I have become naturally dulled as to things that used to vex me into a state of delicious lip-writhing frothiness, or I have actually begun to shed several decades worth of independent spirit and "settle" for what I have, rather than to keep on protractedly looking for more meaning to life than existing merely to be someone else's worker bee at a mediocre salary which barely permits existence. So I think it's time for my first-ever blog poll...
Maybe some of the nice people that occasionally deign it necessary to commiserate with me and read this epic tome will vote in it, who knows?
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Okay, peeps, it's up to you now...
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