Our busy metropolis, Douglas
Traa dy Liooar Mandatory
By Helen Kinrade
Manx woman, Helen Kinrade has just returned from living and working in London, only to discover that her city-slick approach to life is not appreciated in the Isle of Man.
Let me get something straight before I begin my rant: I like my new office job. It’s the best one I found since moving back to the Isle of Man from London last year and when they offered it to me, I was thrilled. I like the fact that I start the day with a stack of work in my in-tray and that I’m always busy. So busy in fact that up to a month ago I’d sort of assumed that my employers would like me to work at a reasonably fast pace – it turns out though that, in my boss’ opinion, I’ve been breaking the Manx speed limit.
Rush hour in Peel
I’d certainly been enjoying the chance to wrest my bum off the office chair in order to photocopy something, or to pop a letter into the post tray, but surely that was normal practice for an office worker? My boss continued. “I must ask you to slow down and not walk around so fast – it’s a health and safety issue and the other people in the office might find it off-putting.”
I admit: I’m not the skinniest gal in the land. If I moved as slowly as these people, I’d have so many extra, unexpended calories turning to fat that I’d be in one of those electric wheelchairs for the morbidly obese by the end of the year. All this torpidity in the land that invented the Parish Walk; I just don’t get it.
A commuting alternative
“Hmm,” she said with a half-smirk, “I think she’s got a point, actually.” This was not the response I’d been fishing for; I’d have been grateful for at least one eye-roll and a few tuts in my favour.
“Yes,” she continued. “You don’t so much walk as… dart.” I took this information in. I could feel a strop coming on. Dangerously for her, poor Mum had warmed to her topic. “Yeah, ya blink” – she demonstrated at this point by doing a big blink – “and whoosh! You’re gone!” Her arm whooshed through the air in an unintended Nazi salute. What kind of a mother sides against her daughter with the enemy?
Can my whole view of the world really be based on a terrible sham? Even now, one month later, I’m hanging on to my old philosophy by the fingernails. At work I might have to stroll or get my marching orders; but out there on Civvy Street, I’m still fighting for my right to dart.
last updated: 04/04/2008 at 12:19
Have Your Say
Is Helen right? Do we move at the pace of snails over here? If so, why - and what's the point?
Soft Southener from the big smoke
a worn out worker from london
ken(across the water)
John of Peel
Bill from Castletown
John S Shaw
Sherley in Peel