Has anyone else noticed? In the quietest, most comfortable, most familiar and secure, most geologically inactive corner of the op-ed page of the Globe and Mail, faint signals have lately been detected of a minor reawakening.
The closest to funny that Jeffrey Simpson has come for a long time has been his weekend chats with Uncle Fred, who lives on Vancouver Island and is in fact not all that funny. Uncle Fred reads like something dreamed up by a journalist so accustomed to having access that he has himself morphed into a mandarin. The tragedy of the journalist-as-mandarin is that his notions of "ordinary Canadians" are likely to be even cornier than he thinks ordinary Canadians are, and that has seemed to be the sad fate of our Jeffrey through the years of the Liberal ascendancy.
But. Could Jeffrey be getting ready to rumble? In recent weeks his aim on all sorts of people has been sharpening, and so has his prose. He has gone beyond grumpy over the field of Liberal leadership candidates. He doesn't especially like any at the front of the pack, not Gerard Kennedy (bad French) and not Bob Rae (baggage from his days as premier). For sure Simpson does not like Michael Ignatieff; above all he has been sniping at Ignatieff, and that is interesting. Why would Jeffrey Simpson be so bothered by Michael Ignatieff (I ask in all innocence)? And what might that signify?
Simpson's column in today's paper is a lot of fun. It is a wee volcanic emission that we can only hope presages full-scale eruptions in the days and months to come. It's not about the Liberal leadership candidates, but it is a heartening show of real temper. Jeffrey Simpson is mad as hell at Air Canada, and he's not going to take it any more:
Why are Air Canada employees not more helpful? They're not bad people. Some of them are very nice.
But you get the distinct impression that they've been beaten into a sullen submission by the salary cuts and job losses. They see the senior executives — CEO Robert Milton and president Montie Brewer — sitting on huge stock option gains, while the employees get nothing. The old Canada Post's problems were union-driven, Air Canada's come from the very top.
...
The employees have been pulverized. They don't feel very good about their company. They're earning less. They've got so many rules and regulations to follow, and they've been stripped of so much discretion in the drive for profits, and so much is out of their hands, that even if they'd like to help, they often can't. It's not their fault.
Attitudes start at the top.
Lose your baggage. Try phoning the local Air Canada office at the airport. Or drive to the airport to enquire about the luggage.
The baggage people will be very nice and quite unhelpful. Not because they want to be unhelpful, but because Air Canada has outsourced all baggage inquiries to India. Try phoning the 1-888 number. The Indians sitting in front of a computer screen will render you all assistance short of help.
...
... you go to the airport, as required, 60 minutes before a connector flight for one going overseas. You find the departure time has been advanced by 15 minutes without anyone telling you.
No sweat, there's still 45 minutes. Except the line isn't moving. You wait patiently 10 minutes and inquire why. Computers are down. You go to another counter, having now not budged for 15 minutes, only to be told the flight has closed.
Just call the gate, the Air Canada representative is asked.
There's plenty of time. Can't, she replies. Rules. Her supervisor, a man who has seen it all and couldn't care less about your fate, takes over.
Will he help?
No, Air Canada doesn't own the computers. The airport does.
Therefore, Air Canada is not responsible. He can book you tomorrow.
You try to understand: Air Canada doesn't own the computers, farms out baggage to India, takes away food, screws up a lot of flights, doesn't apologize, in the previous three weeks has cancelled two flights and re-routed you on another so that you arrive almost four hours late — yet says it wants “customer loyalty.”
Mr Simpson, you're cute when you're mad.