Standing Room Only

A half hearted rant begins…..

I have a sneaking feeling that the ship is sinking.

From my vantage point in the office here I can see that the company car park has more cars in it than ever before, yet, when I look around the engineering building, like the young lad in the sixth sense “I see dead people” or perhaps it is more a case of “I see a lot less of the sick looking bastards”.

I assume that all those new cars belong to the ever increasing throng of Human Resources consultants, Program managers and groupies who, by my reckoning, now have at least a full platoon, all costumed up and ready to engage the evil sith in the up and coming clone wars. It’s all part of the endgame, the ship is rapidly sinking and us workers will be the last to know, the corporate mandate being let’s not worry the little people with constructive engineering tasks, lets grind the living crap out of them by making them polish and Windex their workstations and color coordinate their binders and archives.

Not that we have archives any more, they’ve all been whisked away by the Stepford Wives/Administrators/Print Room Girls and put in a nuclear bunker somewhere up north, anything of the slightest use has been hidden and an awful lot of useless, trivial crap has been digitized and loaded onto our “intranet” by the hidden agenda gang, another group of oxygen thieves who demand ever increasing car parking facilities. They probably already know that we've hit the iceberg, life has ended and they’re just here to squeeze the last dollars out of the system.

I suppose that’s what we’re all doing. We’re hanging on as long as possible before the water rushes in, happy to endure all the corporate BS until the last minute when we all try to jump ship at the same time or float off into the sunset on a solitary deckchair.

It’s already happening, I’ve seen that several key players have donned women’s clothing and stepped into the life rafts on the starboard side, they’ve quietly moved on to greener pastures as the rest of us act like prehistoric flies, trapped in the aspic of the office, not noticing the slight list at the bow. We’re like a bunch of little green frogs languishing in a big saucepan on the stove, in water that will eventually boil and kill us all, too comfy in our apathy to do anything about it.

It's a frog thing.

Women, Engineers and Children first……!!