The dark clouds of doom are gathering and the stench of death is beginning to to be sensed by many; just a small tickle in the nostrils for now but one I fear may grow to be overwhelming in a few short years.
That is not to suggest that I would lose my job with the corporation, merely that resources may be redistributed as needed to other areas which may survive and prosper, meaning the possibility of being removed from my comfortable little hiding place in the broad canvas of working Australia and repositioned somewhere far more decrepit is something which seems to be more of a possibility as these years go on and the crisis in my industry deepens.
The postal system is dying. That is a fact and there is nothing that can be done about it. The Internet, for all of it’s wonder and usefulness is also a killer, a Terminator and is gradually squeezing the mail system into obsolescence. Along with many other things which we once took for granted before the metamorphosis of the world into a digital haven where only the technologically advanced will survive.
The corporation, to their credit, seem to be attempting to prepare the staff for the worst, not by using a sledgehammer but by subtle suggestion. The writing is on the wall and I am not silly enough to believe the holiday will last. In fact I am surprised it has lingered this long. Many seem to be ignoring the warning signals being blown by loud trumpets from the battlements and continue about their daily tasks as if the world will never end. The militant unionists are ringing the horses, preparing to fight to the death rather than retreat but also seem to be saving the last bullet for themselves, much like a cavalryman caught in a hostile ambush on the plains.
The day of reckoning will come. It has to. For many where I work it may not matter that much. They are within a hairs breadth of retirement and redirecting resources to shifts or facilities which are far less appealing to their current environment by management may not unduly concern them. They will simply use the last of their sick leave, long service leave and recreation leave and never return to their new placements. It will be an easy choice for many.
For myself, it is a harder matter to dissect. Simply using up leave is not an option for me but a new start on the shifts of darkness is not appealing and my raft is only halfway across the ocean in this adventure of life so a few hard decisions will soon be in the offing for me to make.
As the sun sets on the days of old fashion communication and a new dawn of suzerainty appears set to rise on the industry which sustains me, reinforced by the imminent arrival of a conservative government which is likely to be elected in September, I feel it is time to take to the lifeboats, throw out the sandbags, don the parachute and find the nearest exit.
I may be completely wrong but I doubt it. I think the mail service as I know it will be demolished in it’s present form in five years and it wouldn’t surprise me if Sydney and it’s massive facilities and installations become the hub for mail distribution in Canberra. If that is so, my own world will be turned upside down and rather than change overtaking me like limit rider caught by the scratchmen in a handicap cycle race, I will bend fortune to my own will and never let them take me.
We on “Desolation Island” are peering out over the precipice but only a few have the instinct to know we need to jump rather than be pushed. I for one will not be left behind to face the music.
Have a nice day.
Strange Notations From a Laborious Life 