Our sisters in public service have gone rogue and it’s hurting not only our gender but the entire population. First it was Pamela Wallin and now it’s Alison Redford, former premier of Alberta and Susan Fennell, Mayor of Brampton. It seems that power is indeed intoxicating. Give a girl the keys to the castle and before long she’s raiding the pantry. These Marie Antoinette wannabe’s have brought shame on us all and I say off with their heads.
What really galls me is these people have no sense of remorse or shame in what they’ve done. They insist their actions are “misunderstood“. Bev Oda is now collecting in the neighbourhood of $700,000 from you and me, the taxpayers for her indiscriminate spending. That will buy her a lot of smoking rooms in pricey hotels. There seems to be no system for making these people accountable and to reimburse the taxpayers for the cost of their offenses.
Every day new stories emerge of men and women who abuse their positions of trust and privilege in public service. Former Senators Mike Duffy and Patrick Brazeau have a list of misdeeds and illegal activities long enough to trip over. In a perfect world, the behavior of public servants should be above reproach. Their motives for seeking office should be noble and as taxpayers and citizens we should be able to trust them with the affairs of our country and the legitimacy of their expense accounts. Not so.
It’s obvious the key to wealth and privilege is no longer winning the lottery. I’ve thrown thousands of dollars already at that campaign without success but fortunately I now have a guaranteed solution to financial security and possibly a paid-for full-time hairdresser. I’m going to run for Parliament in some safe little rural community like the one I grew up in half-way between Toronto and Ottawa. After a mere six years of representing the good people of that riding, I will be endowed with a full pension for life and lots of free travel benefits for me, my honey and my Boomer girlfriends. I get to attend free barbecues, rib-fests and pancake breakfasts every weekend which means if I bring a bag I can take the leftovers home to eat for the rest of the week.
If I can sweet-talk the boss into making me a cabinet minister I also get a car and driver which means me and my girl posse can swill copious quantities of Ontario wine in the back seat of a limo without worrying about DUI issues. On special holidays I get to shake hands with the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge which certainly warrants a trip to Holt Renfrew (can I expense that? – who cares.)
Another benefit is that I actually only have to show up for work in the “House” for a few weeks each year. And all I’m required to do is periodically bang the desk with my perfectly manicured hand and wear a bright colour so my friends can see me on TV. I hear the members’ cafeteria is, if not free, at least really cheap as it’s subsidized by taxpayers. And I get a living allowance which means if I share accommodation with other porkers, I can pocket even more money for trips to Holts.
My heart beats faster just thinking about all the manna that would flow from being a public servant at the trough. And my mouth waters at the thought of all that free food, $16.00 glasses of freshly-squeezed orange juice that I don’t have to pay for and the cases of Jackson-Triggs at my disposal. I only wish I’d thought of this 40 years ago. I could have retired after “working” a mere six years. To pick up more money on the side and keep the gravy flowing, I could push for a set in the Senate.
So, my advice for Generation X and Y’ers who claim they can’t get a job after spending all those years getting useless degrees in Women’s Studies or Nineteenth Century Canadian Literature, run for Parliament. You’ll be rolling in dough, have an unbelievable pension, tons of free time, unlimited Canadian wine and of course, yummy little free cakes. I can taste it now.