A journal of questionable quality

Monday, May 02, 2005

public holiday, again

Another public holiday - another short week. Australia is infested with them at this time of the year.

They always present as a Monday off, which means anything you are waiting for delivery of will be delayed, not just by one day, but two.

A rare quirk in the system equates to whatever you were expecting on Monday will be there on Wednesday, Tuesday being the day that everyone has trouble getting up to speed after such a tumultuous weekend.

Another quirk means that if you expected it Friday, in the week before the public holiday, you will still get it on Wednesday. This appears to be because the Friday is taken up with getting ready for the weekend, long lunches, early finishes, which pushes your expected delivery over to the Monday which then runs into the above mentioned Tuesday equals Wednesday scenario.

Probably only in Australia.

This holiday, not that anyone really cares, is to celebrate Labour Day, that's why nobody works - naturally - how can you have a Labour Day and actually labour?

Labour Day, then, is to celebrate the fact that workers somewhere finally got a reasonable deal with their working hours. I think that it may have been called 8 hour day perhaps, or I may have made that up. No matter, it celebrates something to do with the getting of mandated hours, 8 still springing to mind, and from that day on workers Australia wide have studied on ways to drag the eight hours down to a more reasonable 3 or 4. I think it might have been called May Day at one time.

Self employed people don't see much point in celebrating such a thing as restricted hours of work, we work any hours, any time. They didn't make a 'self employed persons day' because, I presume, we didn't set up a union. If we had set up a union we would have no work anyway so it may have been slightly counterproductive.

There will be a semblance of a march through the streets, for them that know the meaning of the thing. The rest will dutifully light barbecues and incinerate poor cuts of meat, get slightly drunk and try and feel up the neighbor's wife.

Some hardy souls will gather at a beach somewhere to perform the same ritual, the difference being that the incinerated meat will also have sand in it, and the feeling up will be directed at the neighbor's daughter rather than wife, because the daughter has to look better in a swimsuit than the wife.

Once the entire party is drunk beyond description the weather will turn, it will rain and many people will be killed on the roads on the way home.

It's a tradition. And, you know how we like traditions.


Post a Comment

<< Home