Logs:Recommendations
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| RL Date: 30 August, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, Edric |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Discussion of the proposed budget finds at least one item that Hattie and Edric don't see eye to eye about. |
| Where: Council Room, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Erinta/Mentions |
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| It's long enough after breakfast and in plenty of time before lunch when the girl with the look of the Weyrwoman is sent searching for Edric. She's methodical about it, which hopefully means she locates him sooner, rather than later, and a little painfully polite and demure in delivering her message regarding a meeting in the council room, making it a request rather than a dutiful repetition of words. As per usual, Elaruth is sat on the ledge that leads to her home and the council room, and, also as per usual, Hattie has what's accumulated of the day's hidework out across the stone table, organised into sets that look ready to be shipped out to their respective destinations. The goldrider stands at the head of said table, looking out across the sea of documentation, brow furrowed. It's also quite fortunate that Edric's habits are, by now, familiar enough that such a methodical search would yield fruit quite quickly. He listens. He nods. And he dismisses the girl when she's done making that request; there is gratitude, but purely for her politeness in the delivery. The Steward approaches the complex with a satchel over his shoulder and a purposeful stride, a stride that's broken only briefly to allow him to issue a shallow bow to Elaruth when he passes. That bow, stiff and, yet, more than merely perfunctory, is offered again to Hattie when he enters the chamber properly. "Weyrwoman." Elaruth offers a quiet clatter of sound in response to Edric's bow, yet she doesn't seek to delay him, and it takes her rider a moment to flick from the goings-on on the ledge to his arrival in the council room, delaying her own answer for a second or so. "Edric," Hattie greets, after blinking her eyes wide to let her focus swing to him. "Thank you for your recommendations. Have a seat, won't you?" She gestures to one of those chairs near the head of the table, just as she leans and reaches out to move some of the hidework to another precise spot to make room. "Would you like something to drink or shall we address matters more immediately?" One eyebrow lifts slightly and Edric dips his chin. A deep breath, a moment's consideration, and then: "Of course." The seat, that is. He unslings his bag and sets it beside the offered chair - though he doesn't immediately sit. His spectacled gaze cuts briefly to a side, a cursory glance shot to the other paperwork on the table before his attention centers again on Hattie. He places both hands on the back of the chair, prepared to pull it out - but not yet. "Ah, no. I would rather we get this done now." A thin smile is offered, "If there is drinking to be done, best to do it after." Deadpan, that. "Hopefully, none of this will involve anything that drives either of us to need something stronger before midday," Hattie replies with the taint of wryness edging both tone and expression, as she drifts the half-step to claim her seat and settle down. The document she looks to must be one that Edric recognises, the notes she's made on a separate page so as not to deface the copy, each notation as near to parallel as possible with the item she addresses. "Most of this is a matter of reinstituting necessary restrictions that we've employed in the past - albeit not always all at once. However, the combination suggested will impact some more severely than others... and it's those 'some' who've so recently voiced their opinions by walking out." "To be fair," Edric muses dryly, "it is always midday somewhere." He leans slightly forward once she sits and draws attention to the documents. His elbows rest on the table and his fingers lace, steepling together at his upper lip. He listens. And when she's done, he straightens and lowers his chin just enough to look at her over the rims of his glasses. "Of course. I drew considerably from past budgets and from some conversations with the staff. I realize it seems severe - but the Weyr can't really afford to continue as it has. As for those others-" he finally unlaces his fingers to gesture dismissively, "-their loyalties don't rest with the Weyr, if they're so eager to leave in the face of temporary changes. Certainly, some of these changes can be repealed when the Weyr starts to reach financial solvency. Complete austerity will be the quickest way to achieve that end." "Complete austerity is also the quickest way to ensure that this Weyr isn't functional in any sense but financial." Hattie glances down at her notes without truly looking at or seeing them, a breath or so taken to consider her next words. "Riders, if they're of the mind or desire to, or are enterprising sorts, are able to bring in their own funds to supplement what the Weyr pays. A girl or boy in the caverns performing the most menial labour because they lack the capacity - often through no fault of their own - to be or do more doesn't have those options, and will be some of the hardest hit. Yes, we're a business in some respects, but by far not all. Reducing rider stipends, when they've so much available to them and yet more for them to claim off their own backs, I can see implementing. Not so for the staff who are, as we too often forget, support." "For a few months," is his response. "Perhaps half a year, barring any sort of unforeseen change in circumstances. It is not an unreasonable sacrifice." Edric falls silent after that. Listening. Considering. And when she's done, he reaches into his bag to pull out his notes, all neatly contained in a folder. "The riders were the least of my concern with regards to that," he observes. "I have full faith that your riders are enterprising enough - or at least cunning enough - to make the best of the situation." He opens the folder and rifles through the pages, in search of one sheet in particular. "As for the support staff," he fixes his gaze on Hattie, eyebrows raised, "will they be starved if they're deprived of a portion of their stipends? Will they be without access to the Healers and other necessities?" "It takes a day for a community to fall apart, as Weyrwoman Lilah found out," Hattie says slowly. "There's more to living than necessities, and with the rest of the proposed restrictions, the work to implement and deal with those restrictions lies most with those who would end up having their pay docked for the pleasure of going without and making others go without." She shrugs one shoulder, though it's not an offhand gesture. "If we find ourselves in another situation as we did a few months ago, riders may well end up foregoing their duties to the Holds again, and everything begins to unravel from there. The caverns staff by no means hold us to ransom, but it would be foolish at this point to provide a reminder to encourage an encore. I won't agree to docking their stipends at this time." "A poorly connected community, perhaps. One that has no sense of community or a communal desire to see the greater whole survive - and, ultimately, thrive, after a period of difficulty." The page in question is found. Noted - but in a curious short-hand that's effectively illegible. When he looks up again, it's with a thin-lipped smile. "I wonder if they were given a light at the end of the tunnel last time, or if they were expected to blunder through the darkness." A dismissive flick of fingers takes those words away and he pushes to his feet. The folder is closed, the notes gone from sight. "Regardless. Those are my recommendations. If you wish to change it, then change it." "If you deem this Weyr to be so very beneath your expectations, I wouldn't concern yourself with the need to make judgements of its people for very much longer," is Hattie's too even, pleasant response, as she sits back in her seat and folds her hands in her lap. "I'll further discuss the other matters with Erinta, it seems," she declares, acknowledging Edric's evident desire to leave. "You can expect any amendments to the proposals by the end of the sevenday." A curt nod, silent, is her only farewell - or dismissal - before she sits up straight and sets the document and her notes aside, choosing to pull others to her to give a final scan. "No, Weyrwoman. I think that you don't have enough faith in your own people." Edric doesn't bother with polite overtones; it's a matter-of-fact observation, flatly issued as he collects his things. "Give them a light at the end of the tunnel and be clear about what the goal is - and I think you might be pleasantly surprised by what they will be capable of enduring." The rest is heard, of course, but not unexpected; her nod is met with one of his own to acknowledge. And by the time she's looking over the documents, he's gone. |
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