It's late in the afternoon, I'm crying-tired, I've just handed over six Ministerial breifs and submissions and two Min letters - all from my own brain and overheated PC. I've left a post-it on the top of the pile noting that I'm OVERWORKED DAMMIT! It looks as if I shalln't get my day off on Friday either, since T is doing radio interviews and needs her hand held.
Was part of a very senior but deeply silly meeting where people tried to work out how to get out of the 2 year contracts we've just signed with the 4 communities. "Its all too hard. Its all too expensive. We can't get people to cooperate. WE NEED TO BE ABLE TO FORCE THEM."
Isn't it amazing how quickly bureaucracies default to the fascist alternative? Several General Managers have decided we'll take a course of action which they will discover, when they finally take my advice to consult our lawyers, will be illegal against at least 3 Acts of parliament.
I'd normally be on my way by now, but my list of ToDos is long, and the Little Blonde Girl is still half-way to the Gold Coast after her day-trip to the General Motors factory (a work thing) - so I'm waiting for her to get here, then dragging my sorry self home.
fascism
