As if by magic, my eyes open and up I get up to face the new day;
the day, already planned by forces outside my control.
Fixed hours, except when service needs demand that I bend, not sway
My old mind says, no fucking chance, but that still small voice says, be flexible
Discretionary effort, you know that extra mile you will go to help out?
Well that bird has flown, and even if I hear them scream and shout,
I will suit myself, whilst meeting my contractual obligations;
you know, be present, in caring for the health of the nation
The caring hands, depicting the health of Scotland is displayed across the land;
does this include caring for the carers who provide the services with a caring hand?
As the goodwill fades, and the numbers are crunched,
resource managers seem to be a crafty bunch
As staff become demotivated and disillusioned,
it is clear that management has just not listened
to the pitter patter of tiny feet, as the WTEs close the door
on their way out; they can’t take any more
Flexibility should be a two way street,
otherwise it’s null and void, leaving the gas on a peep.