You Dream Flat Tires

No, I am not going to write about Joni.

Do you know the feeling that you're running against brick walls? Again and again and again? That people either ignore you or don't take you seriously or simply can't be a*sed to lift that very body part to do their job?
Gosh, honestly, I want a chainsaw - and not for the first time.

Imagine you have... well... a bicycle. No, you start a job as a bike courier, and you are given a bike by your boss. A bike without a gear change. Remember, I'm in Dundee, we have some steep slopes around here. So - you can do your work, but you're, er, slow. And exhausted.
You complain about it to your boss. After some time (let's say... 4 months) your bike is 'upgraded'. New tires. No, honestly, they make the bike go a bit quicker. Fab.
Another few months later, you get the route City Centre - Kingsway Retail Park. Across Law hill. This surely is a dream. So you complain again. Actually, you don't. You point out several times that you can't possibly do your work with that bike. everybody listens, everybody nods, everybody takes a note. Another 3 months later, you're fed up and take your own bike, from home, the good one, but at least it's flashy and has a gear shift. You know you're not supposed to bring your own bike to work (HEALTH AND SAFETY REGULATIONS, what a wonderful country!), but you don't care anymore. Meanwhile, you keep pointing out that a bike without a gear change is about as useful as a dead donkey. You are efficient with your private bike, you really do your work well - and then you're caught. After, let's say, another 3 months of breaking the rules but doing a good job. You just get away with it, but from now on you're stuck with the old bike.
Did I mention, all of your colleagues are getting new, flashy racing bikes with at least 21 gears each? You're told you're in the next wave, and somebody takes a note and nods sympathetically. Nothing.
Right! The union! You write a long letter detailing your worries to your rep. And are told you're moaning and have too high expectations and really are so ungrateful! Writes it and cycles home on his flashy, brand-new racing bike.
And suddenly, totally out of the blue, you're told that your bike will be replaced. We're writing month 7 after you got the new route. And - miracle of miracles! - you get a new bike. Well, sort of. It certainly isn't new. But it's better than the first. Nice saddle, firm tires, fan-tas-tic! *smile-and-clap-your-hands*
It doesn't have a gear change.
You're gobsmacked. You start laughing hysterically and reach for the tea spoon (or can you imagine a more painful way of killing somebody...? Then reach for that, please).
Around you, your colleagues enjoy their new bikes like children would enjoy the first snow (I hate snow.) And you still wonder when exactly it was that you entered the parallel universe that you're clearly caught in.
Then! Trumpets of Jericho! Actually, no, they're about destruction, aren't they? Never mind. After your 85,927th tantrum, your boss announces that your bike will be equipped with a gear change. And. It. Is. Yes indeed.
It doesn't matter that the gear change is rotten in itself and slows the whole bike down, and still on your own bike you manage the same distance in a 16th (measured it!) of the time, but now you have a gear change.

Isn't life good? And once I've finished crying and screaming hysterically, I'll make sure my tea spoons are as blunt as they can be.

And no. I don't have a bicycle. But everything else is the truth and nothing else. *sigh* And now please excuse me, I have a tantrum to throw.