THERE I was, sitting in the editor’s office at the local newspaper the other day.
Mind you, I say editor and office with a slight tongue in the cheek as he is also the journalist, the advertising manager and receptionist.
Hey, I live near a small country town, and he gets my thumbs up for keeping the local rag in circulation because it’s the only way we locals get to hear and see what everyone else in the district is up to.
Anyhoo, getting back to the point of my story, we were just chewing the fat (mostly cinnamon donuts) while I gave him a few pointers on how to do his job better – I know he always appreciates my musings and benefits from them.
Otherwise, how would he have been able to stay successfully in business for so long?
So he was seeking my input on a media release which had arrived the day before the from ag department.
It was about an event coming up which would be a good opportunity for local farmers to learn a few new tricks – which, I must confess, left me a little surprised that I had not been invited to be the presenter.
So he had rung the person named in the release – whose contact number was included – to get a few more details and turn it into a proper story, not some stultifyingly boring bout of government speak.
And you can imagine his surprise when the guy at the other end of the line told him he was “not authorised” to speak to the media without the Minister’s consent.
The Minister’s?
Crikey Christmas!
It’s a little local event, which might pull a crowd of 10, and it was the ag department which was asking the local paper to give it a plug to try and turn that 10 into 12 or more.
And it gets better.
Not only could the named spokesman not spoke, as it were, he said to get authorisation to ring back to give my mate at the paper a few more paragraphs of copy, there were six people who would need to sign off – and could they get the questions in advance.
Has the world gone mad?
He’s hardly going to be probed for state secrets, or the name of the Prime Minister’s real estate agent.
He was simply trying to help the department help local farmers.
Now he’s caught up in a blizzard of bureaucratic bull, tightly wrapped up in red tape with a big bow on top.
If any of us ever wondered why there’s no government money for anything we truly need, the sheer size and inertia of the public service might explain it.
Just how much do you reckon all these clowns in suits with shiny bums would be pulling on a weekly basis? Money which would be much better invested with the people who need it to actually do something useful.
And I don’t think six sets of initials on something as banal as a bit of extra detail about a very small sideshow justifies itself as useful.
We all toss the term big brother around as a punchline or joke, but if there was even an inkling of the conspiracy theorist in me (FYI there isn’t) I could be forgiven for suggesting the government is trying to control not just the news flow but all news, all information and all everything.
That, of course, is if I was a conspiracy nut.
Although to be honest, I am finding the increasing layers of government – like the sediments of time – starting to weigh heavy.
And they all involve fees, charges, taxes and any other name you care to select as a substitute for cost.
You know the old Whacker, I never like to complain, but in my world when you pay for something, you usually get something in return. Like a product or service.
Where I do draw the line is paying for rubber stamps, ridiculous reports, or the even rarer occasion of driving down the road and seeing someone might actually be doing something about the potholes. Only to see seven or eight people standing around, two with stop/go signs, watching one person, or at most, two people doing some work. Knowing my taxes are funding all this lethargy – at a fee.
Maybe the six people standing around watching would later initial the worksheet to confirm the job was done.
It’s a scandal, someone should put something in the paper about it – or is that where we started?
