the view from the sardine factory

The Basement of Discontent has had one of those days when you wish you could just flick a switch and have the lights turn off, so that you can just roll over in bed and tell yourself it was all a bad dream. Our IT system is shit. I suspect that Dumbo IT man  may have left us with a time bomb.

Not that we really care. Well some do, as some are making pretence at doing some work while we pursue the chance to continue to perform our own jobs for far less money.  Some. Boss got so angry that he threw several things in his office. I ducked as he has so much rubbish piled up there that I expected something to ricochet out the door that adjoins my office and take me out. At least the family would get worker’s compensation for my demise.  

I hit the ground like one of those journalists who stand too close to the fighting and then jump every time they hear an explosion, or a cough. If they blue screened themselves over some old footage none of us would know the difference anway so why risk life and limb?. Maybe I should send that idea to Murdoch, he might send me a free copy of The Australian newspaper or something valuable like that! I could burn the paper in the winter to keep warm when I am homeless. Or stuff it inside my clothes as an extra layer, also in the winter. All the homeless people would say “what is that crumpling sound?”as I walked by and look at me. I would be the geek nerdy homeless person, but god damn it I would be warmer than they!

It has all culminated in making me feel really,  really stressed. REALLY STRESSED. Bite the head off a canary stressed. Even a walk and a cup of tea has not helped to unwind me. I feel like a corckscrew embedded tightly in a cork that wont budge from the bottle’s neck. Lucky Mr FD is away tonight, or he might have been my punching bag. I may still phone him and abuse him long distance just to make myself feel better.

Mr FD is in the lovely town of Murgon tonight. Those of you who are familiar with the town will know what an exciting little rural retreat that is… Mr FD and his friend GA have the honor of having been thrown out of the Murgon pub back in the 1970s. I am sad to say that Murgon was once an Aboriginal mission and as Australia only recognized Aboriginals as Australia citizens in 1967, that a white man had to work pretty hard to get thrown out of the Murgon pub in those days. (and before you abuse me, I was 9 years old in 1967 and not yet aware of our  then White Australia Policy, and once I was aware, detested it instantly)

 I believe that one of the reasons they got thrown out was the fact that they were not obeying the dress code. It appears between them they had 4 feet and 2 thongs (flipflops) and one is suppose to wear shoes in the public bar. So, mightily in need of a drink, they divided the pair of thongs and each took one. They stood at the bar, the barfoot on the ground and placed the thronged foot on top of it to try and hide the thongless foot. It was one reason they were thrown out ….I don’t know the other reason and to be truthful after 30 years of marriage I suspect it is better not to venture there now. Another time they needed a tie to enter an event and Mr FD was without one. He took his shoe lace out of his shoe and tied it around his neck al la bowtie. Nothing would keep this man from a drink in the old days… and little more now!

I have digressed again haven’t I? I do so digress. I suspect that it has helped unkink some of the twists in my neck muscles due to Dumbo IT though. We do feel like we are gradually being evicted though. The business at the front of our building is expanding and all sorts of renovations are taking place, so we can’t use out front entrance. Lots of noise and vibrating too – a bit like a bad sex movie in some ways, without the relief when it is all over. Computer systems are kaput.  People are disappearing and not caring enough to let anyone know why they hid the keys. Is this what it is like to live on Death Row? Or Cannery Row? Maybe that is the problem, we are living a life in a defunct sardine canning factory. God knows, we are living through our own great depression.