My ridiculous issue with The Handmaid’s Tale

I have an issue with The Handmaid’s Tale. A pretty ridiculous one too.

After last season’s ending, I was pretty miffed with the show…but this season I watched it again…only to have another issue pop up.

Here’s the thing. I work with the public. I won’t go into details of the job but suffice it to say that I see plenty of people on a daily basis. After many years of working with the public, I can tell you that some are lovely, wonderful people…and some are one raisin away from being a total fruit cake.

Case in point: We have a waiting area that we keep as pleasant, inviting and comfortable as possible. There are chairs to sit in, magazines to read and even water for those who are thirsty. We have tried to remove all and any stressors from the waiting area.

Of course, the public has managed to have all sorts of issues and freak outs in our waiting area. They have fainted, had allergic reactions, complained about every issue imaginable and one almost gave birth in it. A day doesn’t go by without someone getting upset.

So, how on earth do the people in Gilead keep all the women subdued and quiet? How do they manage to keep them all from freaking out? How do they keep the handmaids from killing someone or even each other? I can’t even imagine the gossip, the resentments, the beefs that they would have. They would have so many issues, they would be lining up to tattle tale on each other. The¬†eyes would be swamped with the lists of grievances.

Okay, I did warn you.

This is definitely a ridiculous grief.

Okay, quick change of topic! How was your day? ūüėÄ

 

About Mondays…

I’m sick but the nature of my day job is such that taking time off is difficult at best. So, ill or not, I went to work today.

Like many Canadians, I work with the public. They can be inspiringly beautiful people. They can also be crazy.

Today, I worked with one of the last kind. It’s funny because though customers might come in all sorts of ages, sizes and colours, the nutty sort always has one thing in common, they have tons to say.

This one was talking before they even met me and they didn’t get any quieter¬†with time. The limits of my position didn’t seem to matter in the least to this particular person and they kept demanding things¬†until I was running about like the proverbial headless chicken.

In my haste, I tripped over a desk and went flying into a chair. I landed on one leg with as much dignity as a hippo on ice. Nothing broken, I told myself and stood back up.

“Pain is a gift; you should offer it to God,” the client shouted from the counter.

There ought to be a law against Mondays.

P.S. Nope. I didn’t sneeze on him…but it was close.