Part of what took up time today was a departmental meeting to vent about the working conditions here, which are straight out of the 1940s in everything but the dress code. The prevailing mood around here is mutinous, since most of the people who work in this department have been with the EBN for several years, have college degrees, and really really resent being treated like retarded sixth-graders. I've complained before about the gap between the head shed's positive, rah-rah, empowerment-friendly attitude and the local management, which could give Captain Bligh a few pointers on how to destroy morale. Positive recognition is nonexistant, public reprimands are common, and most of us have the attitude summed up by the Hells' angels bon mot "When we do right, nobody remembers. When we screw up, nobody forgets." Believe me, it doesn't make me feel too much better to realize I'm not the only malcontent here, but it is a relief that I'm not the one with the problem - they treat everybody in the department like this. Christ, no wonder people go over the side right left and center around here.
On a happier note, I'm taking a break from SF (watching Utena doesn't count) and making my way through William Manchester's A World Lit Only By Fire, which illustrates quite well why Renaissance Festivals have never held the slightest attraction for me. What a screwed-up place medieval Europe was! I'm only halfway through the book, but as with the rest of the late historian's works, this is Highly Recommended.