airpoint
5th Jul 2001, 23:07
For all those who missed this in the Irish Times yesterday read on,
I could not take the grin off my face after i had read it on board ;)
Wednesday, July 4, 2001
An Irishman's Diary
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By Kevin Myers
The year was 2002, and it was another ordinary day in Aer Lingus. A senior female executive was testifying in the court martial of a male apprentice who had the previous week held a door open for her. "I felt so demeaned, debased, abused," she sobbed.
"It was as if he found me sexually attractive. The way he gestured me forward was, well..." - she lowered her voice - "unsuitable". There was a gasp across the room and she burst into tears.
Nearby, another senior woman executive was testifying in another court martial against a teaboy for not holding a door open for her on that same dreadful day.
"I felt so demeaned, debased and sexually abused," she sobbed. "It was as if he found me too old to be sexually attractive. The way he didn't step back and gesture me forward was, well..." - she lowered her voice - "unsuitable". There was a gasp across the room, and she burst into tears.
Holding cells
In the basement of the building, where Aer Lingus had built its special holding cells for men who had been guilty of ageism, sexism, racism, speciesism, nosism, schedulism, sizeism, a grizzled old veteran of Aer Lingery was shuffling through a sheath of papers.
"Another 20 cases this morning, and more again this afternoon," he mused aloud. "And we've got the backlog from yesterday, and the day before still to be dealt with. I don't know, I really don't."
"Quiet, you stupid impotent old codger!" snapped a voice.
"Sorry, ma'am," he mumbled. "Just trying to work out how we can process all these poor misfortunate hoors on the crime sheets."
"Speak to me like that again and I'll have your balls on charges of sexist language in the workplace."
The grizzled old veteran lowered his head in terror, even as three floors above, an Aer Lingus sales person was speaking to a would-be traveller. "Well, sir, there's a return flight to Brussels on the 23rd coming back the 26th, I can give you for £650." "£650! Gott in Himmel! I can fly to Los Angeles and back for that!"
"If you stay a Saturday night, it's cheaper, and cheaper still if your mother was born on February 29th, 1937, you were born June 31st in any year, and your name is Hohenzollern."
"But that is excellent! My mother was born on February 29th, 1937, and I was born on June 31st. We are from Turkmenistan, which has a different calendar! And I have the right name. I am Count Ferdinand Otto Ludwig von Hohenzollern! I can claim the cheap flight!"
"Sorry. Offer applies to Maria Goretti Achmed Goldstein Hohenzollerns only. Byeeeeee."
The newly appointed male secretary in the aircraft acquisitions office was meanwhile counting the result of the office whip-round towards the purchase of a replacement fleet of airliners. He had collected £2.78, with the promise of another £6 worth of Superquinn Superclub points. Another £1,000 and they'd be able to buy an Antonov An 2 biplane from Poland for the transatlantic run: brilliant! He sighed happily.
Audible pleasure
"Sorry," said a voice. "Did you say something? Were you ogling my body? Was that what that noise was about? You were deriving audible pleasure from my presence in your office? I see. And this is what our national airline is coming to, is it? What next, eh? Entering my personal zone, possibly, or knowing the number of my office extension, and even..." His accuser drew a sharp intake of breath as she braced herself to say the unspeakable. "Even.. shaking my hand with unsuitable enthusiasm."
"SHAKING YOUR HAND WITH UNSUITABLE ENTHUSIASM? Jesus Christ no, no, ma'am, believe me, I would never do anything like that. Never. Believe me!"
"And why not, pray? Are you saying I'm unattractive, because I'm senior to to you, and 20 years older than you? Is that it? Do you young men think you can come in here, and bully us older wimmin? Help! Help!" she suddenly screamed, pressing the big red Harassment Alarm.
Bells sounded through the building, and helmeted Harassment Commandos on the end of abseiling ropes suddenly arrived feet first through the plate-glass windows.
"He..he..he," sobbed the female executive, pointing a wavering finger at her young assailant, but she was too overcome by his display of wanton beastliness to say anything. While she was being given smelling salts, and post traumatic harassment counselling, he was led in chains to the gelding-dungeons below.
Gender sensitivity
On the top floor, the acting-temporary-deputy-provisional chief executive was mutely contemplating the future. His three predecessors had been hauled before a people's court and sentenced to many years gender-sensitivity re-education on Rockall. Debts were mounting, losses accumulating, no wanted to buy the airline, and few enough to travel on it, or even run it - a year before, the company had turned his predecessor's expectation that he should have a senior colleague's home phone number into a career-threatening accusation.
So what was the company good at? What other company, when facing complete and utter ruin, could proceed to sack its chief executive over allegations that even a Stalinist show-trial might have had trouble taking seriously? Wherein lies Aer Lingus' true expertise? In a blinding flash, he knew the answer.
And thus in 2002 began the great corporate turnaround, when Aer Lingus ceased to fly aeroplanes and renamed itself Aer Zero, the organisation that can take you to The First Year of the Feminist Era without your leaving Dublin Airport.
Here, any man could have his career ruined if he said or did something considered "unsuitable" by a woman; and any woman, no matter how powerful, could claim victimhood if she detected "unsuitableness" from a male. At long last, we could view the moral and intellectual nadir of the feminist project, brought to you by our State-owned airline.
Look down, it's Aer Lingus.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
© 2001 ireland.com
[This message has been edited by airpoint (edited 05 July 2001).]
I could not take the grin off my face after i had read it on board ;)
Wednesday, July 4, 2001
An Irishman's Diary
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By Kevin Myers
The year was 2002, and it was another ordinary day in Aer Lingus. A senior female executive was testifying in the court martial of a male apprentice who had the previous week held a door open for her. "I felt so demeaned, debased, abused," she sobbed.
"It was as if he found me sexually attractive. The way he gestured me forward was, well..." - she lowered her voice - "unsuitable". There was a gasp across the room and she burst into tears.
Nearby, another senior woman executive was testifying in another court martial against a teaboy for not holding a door open for her on that same dreadful day.
"I felt so demeaned, debased and sexually abused," she sobbed. "It was as if he found me too old to be sexually attractive. The way he didn't step back and gesture me forward was, well..." - she lowered her voice - "unsuitable". There was a gasp across the room, and she burst into tears.
Holding cells
In the basement of the building, where Aer Lingus had built its special holding cells for men who had been guilty of ageism, sexism, racism, speciesism, nosism, schedulism, sizeism, a grizzled old veteran of Aer Lingery was shuffling through a sheath of papers.
"Another 20 cases this morning, and more again this afternoon," he mused aloud. "And we've got the backlog from yesterday, and the day before still to be dealt with. I don't know, I really don't."
"Quiet, you stupid impotent old codger!" snapped a voice.
"Sorry, ma'am," he mumbled. "Just trying to work out how we can process all these poor misfortunate hoors on the crime sheets."
"Speak to me like that again and I'll have your balls on charges of sexist language in the workplace."
The grizzled old veteran lowered his head in terror, even as three floors above, an Aer Lingus sales person was speaking to a would-be traveller. "Well, sir, there's a return flight to Brussels on the 23rd coming back the 26th, I can give you for £650." "£650! Gott in Himmel! I can fly to Los Angeles and back for that!"
"If you stay a Saturday night, it's cheaper, and cheaper still if your mother was born on February 29th, 1937, you were born June 31st in any year, and your name is Hohenzollern."
"But that is excellent! My mother was born on February 29th, 1937, and I was born on June 31st. We are from Turkmenistan, which has a different calendar! And I have the right name. I am Count Ferdinand Otto Ludwig von Hohenzollern! I can claim the cheap flight!"
"Sorry. Offer applies to Maria Goretti Achmed Goldstein Hohenzollerns only. Byeeeeee."
The newly appointed male secretary in the aircraft acquisitions office was meanwhile counting the result of the office whip-round towards the purchase of a replacement fleet of airliners. He had collected £2.78, with the promise of another £6 worth of Superquinn Superclub points. Another £1,000 and they'd be able to buy an Antonov An 2 biplane from Poland for the transatlantic run: brilliant! He sighed happily.
Audible pleasure
"Sorry," said a voice. "Did you say something? Were you ogling my body? Was that what that noise was about? You were deriving audible pleasure from my presence in your office? I see. And this is what our national airline is coming to, is it? What next, eh? Entering my personal zone, possibly, or knowing the number of my office extension, and even..." His accuser drew a sharp intake of breath as she braced herself to say the unspeakable. "Even.. shaking my hand with unsuitable enthusiasm."
"SHAKING YOUR HAND WITH UNSUITABLE ENTHUSIASM? Jesus Christ no, no, ma'am, believe me, I would never do anything like that. Never. Believe me!"
"And why not, pray? Are you saying I'm unattractive, because I'm senior to to you, and 20 years older than you? Is that it? Do you young men think you can come in here, and bully us older wimmin? Help! Help!" she suddenly screamed, pressing the big red Harassment Alarm.
Bells sounded through the building, and helmeted Harassment Commandos on the end of abseiling ropes suddenly arrived feet first through the plate-glass windows.
"He..he..he," sobbed the female executive, pointing a wavering finger at her young assailant, but she was too overcome by his display of wanton beastliness to say anything. While she was being given smelling salts, and post traumatic harassment counselling, he was led in chains to the gelding-dungeons below.
Gender sensitivity
On the top floor, the acting-temporary-deputy-provisional chief executive was mutely contemplating the future. His three predecessors had been hauled before a people's court and sentenced to many years gender-sensitivity re-education on Rockall. Debts were mounting, losses accumulating, no wanted to buy the airline, and few enough to travel on it, or even run it - a year before, the company had turned his predecessor's expectation that he should have a senior colleague's home phone number into a career-threatening accusation.
So what was the company good at? What other company, when facing complete and utter ruin, could proceed to sack its chief executive over allegations that even a Stalinist show-trial might have had trouble taking seriously? Wherein lies Aer Lingus' true expertise? In a blinding flash, he knew the answer.
And thus in 2002 began the great corporate turnaround, when Aer Lingus ceased to fly aeroplanes and renamed itself Aer Zero, the organisation that can take you to The First Year of the Feminist Era without your leaving Dublin Airport.
Here, any man could have his career ruined if he said or did something considered "unsuitable" by a woman; and any woman, no matter how powerful, could claim victimhood if she detected "unsuitableness" from a male. At long last, we could view the moral and intellectual nadir of the feminist project, brought to you by our State-owned airline.
Look down, it's Aer Lingus.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
© 2001 ireland.com
[This message has been edited by airpoint (edited 05 July 2001).]