(no subject)
[private entry]
Given the state of the Ministry in recent years, I suppose I ought not to be altogether taken aback with this latest development. After all, the length of time since this institution last produced an embarrassing administrative debacle was stretching to near-record levels. It would follow that a relatively calm bout of ordinary bureaucratic functioning (when issuing from such a consistently fallible group of politicians as these) would be followed by a misstep of truly epic proportions. Logic allows for it, and I’m afraid I’ve come to expect little better from the Minister and his delusional subordinates.
Nonetheless, I find it beyond my capacity for kindness to excuse this particular offense. I have been assigned to enforce their execrable little bit of legislation. Even writing it forces me to contemplate the unenviable task. Like some sort of menial laborer, a mindless supporter of this thinly veiled fascism, I will go from door to door, enabling the very thing I detest. Wand registry? I should like to know if there has been another piece of governmental action in my lifetime that so effectively combines offensiveness with stupidity. “We must correct a previous oversight, Deirdre,” said my superior, possibly hypothesizing that the use of my first name would soften my reaction. What drivel-ever considered a proper apology to the public? Perhaps it was wise that I held my tongue, or I might not have been able to resist adding to his statement “…since anything resembling competence is obviously too much to hope for.”
It would seem that I, who so quickly lapped up the Ministry’s offer of employment after the war, am now being served my just deserts.
However, I would wager that the most insulting aspect of this entire affair is that I am not free to walk away from this administration whenever I see fit. As disgusting as the thought of being the Muggle equivalent of a meter maid might be, I literally cannot afford to snub the money I am now earning. Until another institution is willing to explore such a squashy and ductile field as that of the human mind, I am ‘stuck,’ metaphorically speaking. At least they won’t be taking my labs away from me.
I shall simply have to discern a way to make it quite clear that I am not the right woman for this particular job. Perhaps I will treat my new wards to a pint. Or three. If anyone will need a spot of inebriation, it will be these poor individuals. I imagine that the probability of discovering any intelligence among this lot of ‘dangers to society’ is slightly greater than among the rest of society at large. That, at least, will be enjoyable.
Mother would be so pleased.
[/private entry]
Given the state of the Ministry in recent years, I suppose I ought not to be altogether taken aback with this latest development. After all, the length of time since this institution last produced an embarrassing administrative debacle was stretching to near-record levels. It would follow that a relatively calm bout of ordinary bureaucratic functioning (when issuing from such a consistently fallible group of politicians as these) would be followed by a misstep of truly epic proportions. Logic allows for it, and I’m afraid I’ve come to expect little better from the Minister and his delusional subordinates.
Nonetheless, I find it beyond my capacity for kindness to excuse this particular offense. I have been assigned to enforce their execrable little bit of legislation. Even writing it forces me to contemplate the unenviable task. Like some sort of menial laborer, a mindless supporter of this thinly veiled fascism, I will go from door to door, enabling the very thing I detest. Wand registry? I should like to know if there has been another piece of governmental action in my lifetime that so effectively combines offensiveness with stupidity. “We must correct a previous oversight, Deirdre,” said my superior, possibly hypothesizing that the use of my first name would soften my reaction. What drivel-ever considered a proper apology to the public? Perhaps it was wise that I held my tongue, or I might not have been able to resist adding to his statement “…since anything resembling competence is obviously too much to hope for.”
It would seem that I, who so quickly lapped up the Ministry’s offer of employment after the war, am now being served my just deserts.
However, I would wager that the most insulting aspect of this entire affair is that I am not free to walk away from this administration whenever I see fit. As disgusting as the thought of being the Muggle equivalent of a meter maid might be, I literally cannot afford to snub the money I am now earning. Until another institution is willing to explore such a squashy and ductile field as that of the human mind, I am ‘stuck,’ metaphorically speaking. At least they won’t be taking my labs away from me.
I shall simply have to discern a way to make it quite clear that I am not the right woman for this particular job. Perhaps I will treat my new wards to a pint. Or three. If anyone will need a spot of inebriation, it will be these poor individuals. I imagine that the probability of discovering any intelligence among this lot of ‘dangers to society’ is slightly greater than among the rest of society at large. That, at least, will be enjoyable.
Mother would be so pleased.
[/private entry]