Does any one remember when another Thindy had a problem with tattling? I'm speaking, of course, of TV's golden-haired precocious imp, Thindy Brady. If I recall the episode correctly, justice was meted out swiftly and with a heavy hand after a lot of swearing and sweating during a marathon inquisition under the hot lights. I believe, as it turned out, she was allowed to have a single Marlboro Red in exchange for a confession and an agreement to quietly leave town. I'm fairly certain that she was also publically censured. At least that's how I remember it; I may be wrong, it may have been a Full Flavored Camel. Anyway, what I'm getting at is that now, some forty years hence, we again find ourselves forced to consider another tattling Thindy, only this time without the comfort of after-school snacks and a mortgage-free living arrangements at our parents' houses. As employees of US Airways, we have all been without our after-school snacks for many years now; I can only presume that Doug has found a way to convert our metaphorical Twinkies and Yoo-Hoos into a potent sour mash for his exclusive consumption. If things don't work out at US Airways, I think Thindy the latter has a promising future as DP's personal Igor. One of the best things about being a flight attendant is the camaraderie and solidarity among co-workers (I almost changed that to "colleagues", but I had a vision of myself wearing man-made fiber and hawking SkyFun boxes, and immediately realized that "colleague" might be a little too high-falootin'), and the atmosphere of trust and understanding among us (mostly). Thindy had absolutely nothing to gain by composing the much-discussed missive, she wrote it long after the plane had left her on the ground, frustrated and plotting revenge. Perhaps she should have had a cup of the herb tea and a bit of the chocolate that she ostensibly carries for employees of off-line carriers. (Doesn't her mentioning that in her letter sort of negate the gesture? She's trying to convince the recipient of her generosity of spirit, the loftiness of her personal standards, etc., therefore negating the existence of those very qualities in my opinion.) I imagine her maintaining her composure for the benefit of the gate agent, but I bet it was quite a different story when she got out to the parking lot. I have a doctorate degree in Psychiatry from the Universtiy of Jerry Springer, and I can just about imagine the histrionics and mania that ensued once the car door was slammed shut. It must've been on par with the scene in "Mommie Dearest" when Joan Crawford, reacting to MGM's refusal to renew her contract, storms out into the rose garden in the middle of the night wearing a ball-gown and a full face of scary-clown makeup, and begins screaming, chopping down trees, all the while crying hysterically. "Tina!! Bring me the ax!!" I kind of have to think of it that way to make it a little funny, because it pisses me off.
Thindy, your Karmic ledger is now in the red. Repent, you Benedict Arnold of the proletariat! Teach orphaned monkies to read! Correspond with Death Row inmates! Undertake a fact finding mission to the Arctic! Anything, just leave the reserves alone. It's the company's job to dismiss, abuse, cheat, and steal from reserves--Doug Parker has proven himself a virtuoso when it comes to the administration of the aforementioned infamies. Just let him do the job. Fear not and rest easy, I promise we'll still be miserable, poverty-stricken, and exhausted without your poison pen.
