A little puppet told me....

George Pearce worked his way up the promotional ladder, within the finance department at the bin.  His days as a 17 year old trainee ledger writer gone, he now occupied the very senior position of counter clerk.  George was a timid man and although he had hoped that becoming Director of Finance would be the pinnacle of his career, he lacked the necessary psychopathic qualities needed for such an important role.  George always knew what was going on and a quick nod of the head and offer of a cigarette at the smokers colony would tease him into parting with all manner of information.  Proud of being the only person within a 100 mile radius of having Ornithophobia*, George always commenced his gossiping with "Well, a little puppet told me.....!"  Today was no different, when asked about his forthcoming 45th birthday party and his engagement to Penny Pincher the wage packet filler, he moved closer.  "Well, a little puppet told me......."

*Ornithophobia - fear of birds.

The extensive grounds at the bin are closing in.  What was a beautiful form of escapism for all who resided or worked within its walls, is dissapearing with each passing month as new buildings are erected in the onslaught to become the most successful specialist mental health provider in the country.  It's move to create further profits is relenting and in the midst of it all, others can only look on in amazement as it steamrollers its way over everyone and everything.

The latest casualty is the little building at the edge of the sports field, that holds so many memories for the staff who have used it as their meeting place. It has been their party venue, their opportunity to be part of a community of like minded people, something that was theirs, owned by them, something that couldn't be touched by the lords and ladies and the managerial brass monkeys forever aiming for the excessive monetary thank you at the end of each financial year.  The staff social club.

The closure of the staff social club has been on the cards for some time.  The hierarchical think tank planned its dirty deed months ago.  An email was circulated to managers suggesting, or should I say threatening, that should any of them oppose its closure or be found to be supporting staff that opposed its closure, they could say goodbye to any further promotion and in effect, life would be made very difficult for them.  Mysteriously, important documents showing that the social club indeed belonged to staff, went missing and two solicitors were left fighting to win the battle.

As usual, higher management has its tactics.  It will stoop as stupidly low as it can in an effort to exact its plan, to ensure that its workforce is further weakened.  "Aha......the building may belong to staff, but the toilets are ours!"  Without convenience facilities, the club cannot be opened.  So in the early hours, turncoats entered the building, padlocked and barricaded the toilets and returned to the office to receive their pat on the back.

So its gone.  Soon to be re-opened as offices, teaching rooms, whatever.  And this is their way, this is their charity.  How dare they labour under charitable organisation status?  But we all know there's often a chink in some charities don't we?  It's called being bent!

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