Notepad on Life

February 12, 2010

If sexist firemen ran the world, would you be doomed?

Filed under: Office — - @ 1:31 am
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A Dennis Dagger of Merseyside Fire and Rescue ...
Image via Wikipedia

Umpteenth career fire drill yesterday. Same old desultory stroll into the windiest open space on the premises, followed by the same old struggle to kill time with conversations that would otherwise never see the light of day.

A is the office uber-cynic. Like me, just once in his working life, he’d like all this to mean something. No-one hurt, just the whiff of burning and a hint of genuine urgency in everyone’s step before firefighters show up to save the day. Just once; to make a lifetime of these poxy drills worthwhile.

It won’t be today, however, and A’s resentment gives voice to a truly preposterous notion .

“Well, I won’t be going back to rescue anyone if it’s a real fire,” he snorts. “Not unless she’s got big tits…”

Time hanging heavy on our hands, I actually afford this proposition a few moments’ contemplation, briefly visualising  a world where the discretion of those in the rescue services actually comes down to breast size.

A world where the biggest smile in town belongs to a cosmetic surgeon and the last words the owner of a 32B cup hears as the smoke closes in are, “Sorry love. This is the last stretcher and I’m afraid ‘pert’ doesn’t cut it…”

I like A a lot but I do hope he’s never entrusted with real power.

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