Watch His Lips

My friend the Moustache said yesterday that the Sabbath was sacrosanct. He elaborated on this by saying that if some people wanted other people to work on Saturdays, this should be limited to four Saturdays a year. He further elaborated on this by saying that if some people wanted all the other people to come down and work on Saturday, they should ask nicely first.

I laughed when I heard this. I told the Moustache that some people had used up two (well, maybe at least one) Saturdays in January, one Saturday in February, and one Saturday in March. This would leave them no space to summon the people anymore, in theory. The Moustache nodded, but you could see that his intelligence was already grappling with the consequences. "Ye-es," he said, "I can see that there are still loopholes though. Some people might call some of you back, but not all. They might even have a roster of departments coming back to work or having meetings.

"But I also told some people that you shouldn't have the same people come down every weekend. If they did, why on earth should we give them an award for staff welfare? Going against the spirit of the thing is very old-style, very Soviet Union. Some people do it a lot."

Well, far be it from me to intervene in matters between the Powers, but I did promise I'd keep in touch with the Moustache, whose former guru is my direct male ancestor. Somehow, despite his history, we've remained in friendly contact. He's quite amazed at the fact that I continue to work where I work, despite his predecessor having asked me three times to switch sides. He laughs at me sometimes, and says, "When you want to speak of professional careers, give me a call."

I am tempted once in roughly every 18 months. But I have not succumbed yet. It is hard to read lips when they are hidden by facial hair.