Tuesday, January 06, 2015

The Health Inspectors - A Black Comedy Farce.

If I ever write again, I think I'll write a savage black comedy about the life of the average (and they are very average humans) council health inspector. They swan into your place of work dressed like they're going to the opening night of the opera, even though in reality they should be wearing overalls or other similar mundane attire, and find their special area of annoyance and begin to tell you - as you try to keep up with the busy, service-time influx of customers - that you must make this change or that change. They look so smugly chuffed that they get to tell you this as they consult their snappy electronic device as if to say "See? See? There it is. There's the rule in the regulations that stipulates why you have to change this thing, and aren't you impressed with my vast knowledge of the myriad rules and regulations that rule and regulate my world?"

They never know the actual, practical arguments for these rules and regulations (it's never anything major in a reasonably run place; just niggly changes that must be made because surely you want them to smile and pat you on the back on their next irritating visit). They don't consult the previous inspection report (common sense? Fuck common sense!) to realise they are directly contradicting previous sage recommendations. They clip-clop about on their teetering heels and mneh mneh mneh as if they are doing something meaningful like... anything remotely meaningful. Which they are not.

Ever worked in a commercial kitchen, Miss Poindexter? Ever run a business? What, exactly, qualifies you to even think you have a fucking clue?

This is what you think as you nod and say sure, we'll move the thing over there that the last council numpty made us move to where it is now, as we try to focus on the job of serving our customers.

This is probably what I will write about if I ever write again.

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