Salt the Earth

Black out my name, remove selected pages from my file. Delete all emails (y/n) delete this folder (y/n) reset settings to default (y/n). Forward phone to switchboard, throw my burning chair through a window. Prep files for handover, be dragged apart from a fist fight snarling. Stop giving anything resembling a shit. I'm going to go through you like a dose of salt... I'm going to go...ahhhhhh. To my mind there are two ways to leave the public service (with your shield or on it) if you have severe disagreements with policy, severe antagnosim to managerialism. Unreconcilable extreme hostility. To everything. To 8-4 9-5, to tea breaks, smoko, public service holidays, tradition, the old days, old ways, before your time, the way it's always been, the way it's always done. Immovable intractable. Opinion. Calotes liocephalus. Spineless forest lizard. Hide in the shade, no backbone. Yeah, I remember him. Didn't like it here. That was before your time. Two ways... one way, follow all procedures. Make a complaint, lodge a breach, persue your antagonism. Outline your disagreement and reinforce your argument with the prospect of change, change for the better, change for good, For Good. For good. Then the carefully worded resignation letter- who is going to read that. Manager, once. HR. Maybe. Read it, file it. Your objection has been noted but not sustained. Please complete form for process of termination dues and collect final payslip by post. Please confirm address for receipt of final payslip by post. Leave your options open (right?). It's a tough economic climate, we've all got to eat, just keep your head down. You might need to come back. You never know. Don't make waves. You can have your opinion and eat it. And the third way. (It's the time of Clinton, Blair, Latham, Rudd, New Labor, cooperative labor solutions, mutual agreements, there IS no second way no other way this is the future of the Compassionate Free Market you are chained to it). The third way. I keep thinking about thinking about it... I'm in a cold sweat... the fear of repurcussions untold and a course of action with no recourse of return. It excites me. That final image, a burning chair through a window. I never want to come back. I want to beat down the city, and sow it with salt.