Hope for the Drones' after all

By Kate Stewart

1 comment

This week it has to be with Richard Prosser. Even the old freedom of speech can be taken too far. To think that this whole fiasco was initiated by the confiscation of a pocket knife. Rather than spit the dummy he may have been better to suck on it and remain silent. I suggest he put the said knife to good use, cutting his parliamentary ties and praying the parachute opens. If he still insists on wielding the damn thing while flying, might I suggest an internal body concealment.

IT WOULD appear that all my talk of Drones stirred up quite the hornet's nest, which I think is a fabulous thing. Anything that makes us stop and think, then starts a conversation, is a positive thing in my book.

I expected the civil servant sympathisers to object and roll out the old and over-roasted chestnuts, like "it's a thankless job" and "don't bite the hand that feeds you" and I'm happy to say that I wasn't disappointed.

Not being a "career beneficiary" myself, I have spent many years working in the hospitality industry and while a very different job to that of the Drone, I imagine many of the challenges to be same. Every day it was my job to deal with the prolific species "Pistazza Newtus" and in doing so I would be subjected to some horrendous attacks of verbal abuse, there were even physical threats made and attempted.

Emotions ran high and tempers would flare. Attempts to reason with this bolshy beast would appear futile, but nevertheless, I tried.

My point is I knew this to be an occupational hazard before I got into the job and it didn't deter me. Nor did it give me the right to assume that the next customer would be the same species and therefore I could treat them like crap. I shrugged it off and moved on, greeting the next "Boozasaurus" with a smile and a positive attitude, because I'm also a firm believer that you reap what you sow, you get back what you give more often than not and, if you are of the belief that in any service job, or life in general for that matter, that everyone must pay for the failings of a few, then you need to reconsider your career path.

Go off-road and you just get lost and alienate yourself.

I never said the job of the Drone was an easy one but nor is it an excuse to go around with a face like a baboon's backside and a giant chip on your shoulder. It is at this point that I would like to say that I have encountered three absolutely wonderful WINZ worker bees. A pure pleasure to deal with, they spoke to me not at me and actually listened to what I had to say. They showed genuine empathy and concern and went a long way in restoring my faith in human nature. Praise where praise is due. Though scarce as hen's teeth, these bubbly, bustling bees are proof positive that you can work within the concrete jungle and not be turned to stone.

What we need now is a breeding programme to ensure the survival of these rare and priceless creatures. May they go forth and multiply, spreading their positive work ethic to all whom they encounter.

For the genetically deficient remainder I recommend that we deploy the Department of Conservation to implement a controlled 1080 drop, eradicating these nasty pests once and for all. They are a blight on the landscape and an assault on the naked eye.

Thankless job or not, we live in an economy where I for one, would consider myself bloody lucky to have a job at all.

In other related news it appears I have greatly upset the Waffle, who has been giving me the cold shoulder. My "Date with a Drone" series has caused space issues which has resulted in his weekly "Bone of Contention" segment being omitted. Waffle, mummy is deeply sorry.

A strong advoKATE of all things PC, yeah right, I sent myself off to naughty step for the prescribed time of one minute per year of age.

Deep into middle age it goes without saying that I then required all three life forms to slowly aid me into an upright position, before further assisting me to the couch, where they then administered anti-inflammatories, paracetamol and checked me for pressure sores. It's nice to know they still have their uses, as ever decreasing as they may be.

As always, keep the feedback coming, good or bad I can smile through it all. Smile loudly peeps, if for no other reason than you can. I shall now leave you in Waffle's capable paws. Catch you next week.

- Wanganui Chronicle

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