The C Word

It is too easy for us to criticise and we avail ourselves of the facility too often. Nothing is easier, or more receptive to an audience, than railing against Asian drivers, slipping standards of service, central and local government, this year’s Halberg Awards presentation and everything else that sticks in our collective gullets. I am guilty of it; you are guilty of it. To be fair to us both, most of our criticism is justified and formed from anecdotal evidence. There is also nothing wrong with it; criticism can bring change and is second only to humiliation in its faculty to do so. Which is perhaps why, in my recent experience, standards of service are actually rising. Yes, I admit to a gross over-generalisation here, but of late I have had some outstanding service in restaurants and shops. Most surprisingly, most of it has come from young people. My previous experience has been that young people have been surly, uninterested and in some cases outright rude. Many may well still be, but they seem to fewer and the young people I am lauding are bright, attentive, knowledgeable and natural. Why is this? Are they better trained? Is the employment market more competitive? Are we and they more exposed to overseas standards of service? Or is it simply that our collective criticism has at last had an effect? I am certainly not qualified to give an answer, nor am I particularly interested in finding one. I am simply content with the (now) better than average prospect of walking into a New Zealand restaurant or shop and having an enjoyable experience.

----------------
Now playing: Bryan Adams - This Time
via FoxyTunes

On The Nose

I’m sorry, I’m a bit tired. This morning’s daily dalliance in bed was shattered by a sudden and strident knocking at my back door. I knew who it was, of course: Whetu has a habit of worming himself around to my backdoor—more used to it, I guess. Nevertheless, I left Maggie to her dreams of Brendon McCullum (God, he’s gorgeous!) and last night’s waiter (If I were only 18 again!) and stumbled to the door, still in surprise.

ME: Whetu?

HE: Tena Koutu, Tena Koutu, Take a photo.

ME: What?

HE: Kia ora Bro. Want a photo?

ME: What are you on about Whetu? What are you trying to sell me this time?

HE: Take your photo.

ME: Why?

HE: Make you famous.

ME: Don’t want to be famous.

HE: Made me famous.

ME: Oh?

HE: Yeah, I gets my photo in the paper lots. Sometimes they does the front on photo like this, eh. Sometimes they does the side-on one like this, eh. Sometimes both.

ME: I don’t want my photo taken thanks.

HE: Made Keith Locke famous.

ME: What?

HE: Made Keith Locke famous when he gots his photo taken with Tama Iti.

ME: That was John Key.

HE: Not Tama Iti?

ME: No, Not Keith Locke.

HE: With Tama Iti?

ME: Yes.

HE: Not Keith Locke?

ME: Yes. No. John Key.

HE: Close.

ME: Yes.

HE: Anyways, you gets your photo taken with me; make youse famous.

ME: How did you find me, Whetu?

HE: Only $20.00. Got a camera?

ME: No thanks.

HE: Worth trying though, eh?

ME: Yep.

HE: I’ll be back.

ME: Like my herpes.

HE; I know him. He that Geek god fella.

ME: I guess. Bye, Whetu.

HE: HE’S famous!

ME: Bye Whetu.

HE: I seen HIS photo.

----------------
Now playing: The Band - To Kingdom Come
via FoxyTunes

Eel Be Right

Our local newspaper, The Rodney Times, does a fine job in its reporting of local affairs. Not that there are many local affairs—a small community and a lack of accommodation have seen most affairs conducted in Auckland—that is of course if we exclude the annual orgiastic aftermath of the aptly named World’s Longest Dinner. But, I digress. What local affairs there are, are reported wonderfully well by our local ‘paper. One cannot fail to be fulfilled as one reads of the activities of the Scrabble Club, the Writers’ Club and the intriguingly named Probus Club. Then there are the fine fictions of the pontificating of local politicians (don’t even get me started on those of their spin doctor(s)). Sport reigns supreme as the vehicle for great photos and the continuation of the scrapbook industry. The newspaper of this fine burg doesn’t technically sell its papers; it gifts them—even, in the experienced and capable hands of its current editor, bestows them. We are anointed.

But, sometimes, we are also annoyed. Last week the editor ran a front page story and photo of a small boy’s killing of a large eel. Condemnation has since rained down on both the editor and the boy. The only party to escape is the eel—if you can call being dead and integrated into this year’s radish crop an escape. At issue, if we are to read the letters to the editor, are:

1. The boy should not have killed the eel
2. He should not then have used it for fertiliser
3. The editor is sending the wrong message to young people by publishing the story.

Well, my first point is this: the boy having done nothing more than thousands of kids before (indeed it is a customary right among Maori) by doing the first showed commendable aptitude and environmental consideration in conducting the second. As for the editor’s action, I don’t see it as his job or responsibility to send messages, good or bad, to young people, and I don’t believe he has done so here. He has simply reported an event, an affair, in the community.

But my second point, and this is what annoys me, is that in writing to the newspaper in support of a very dead eel these arbiters of public morality are publicly taking to task a very young boy who doesn’t deserve this. The writers of those letters will no doubt defend themselves by saying they are simply pointing out to the boy the error he committed (sic) and are trying to prevent it happening again. Well and good. But it is still a young boy you are using to get your, frankly, paper-thin and poetically pretentious, message across. No doubt many of you now feel good having thus written. But what about the boy? How does he feel? Not good I imagine, thanks to you. My message (and, yes, I at least have one) to you is the eel is not the only fertiliser in this story and I am not here referring to the boy.

----------------
Now playing: Harry Chapin - Corey's Coming
via FoxyTunes