I work for what passes for a public-private enterprise in these parts known as a parastatal. Mine is in the up-and-coming sector known as environmental justice. It's run by a Committee of seven. One member never turns up for their meetings. Ever. One other comes so infrequently they have nicknamed his appearances technical ones. The rest, including the titular head, are in it only for the money. And the pittance they receive for their pains is jealously hoarded and guarded. I bet they would die fighting to keep the little they get ("You will pry them from my cold dead hands...") for they fight a whole lot more to get it. This past week we have been to our nation's tourist hotspot, investigating environmental hooliganism of the worst sort. The work got done allright, but the amount of grandstanding, backstabbing, infighting and cat-fighting that went on would have made a KKK convention at a Black Panther Party look like a Sunday school cookout. I love this bunch: not a day goes by without some sort of explosion with people pulling rank and cabals being formed. I just hope they don't really kill each other before I get to learn how they can stick it to each other and smile as if their hands were as white as the driven snow!!
No comments:
Post a Comment