The Queen P’s got everyone stirred up about whether she’ll continue to be the matriarch of the hive.
She’s gone away for a couple of weeks and must know that all the other Ps will be buzzing around, pulling their little stingers to the front of their pretty little yellow and black cloaks, waiting for an opportunity to pounce.
Let’s give her some credit. It’s tough to be queen for almost a decade. You fray at the edges. Your health might not be quite the same as it once was.
Let’s be real. To be a royal queen is easier than an elected queen.
You know, because when you decide to actually sign up, you’ve built up in your power-hungry head a few expectations.
And life – as we all know – doesn’t always live up to the hype.
The Queen P rode her way through the honeymoon period, and because she had no opponents, she was able to construct yet another – back-to-back honeymoons.
All she had to do was remind everyone that the first honeymoon wasn’t real because nobody thought it would happen, so maybe it didn’t.
Extension granted, your highness.
Her opposition didn’t think that was very fair because they felt they’d disposed of their nasty overlord, never to return.
“It was all the overlord’s fault,” they said. “He didn’t let us say anything, therefore if you were sacked from the public service, you have him and only him to blame.”
It was such a pathetic plea that the queen had her way, and her little share of Utopia would breeze her into a third term in power.
When I was at school, the smartest kid in class was destined to become school captain, until her parents moved interstate to explore a higher calling in the medical industry.
It seems to happen to a lot of smart children. Because they have smart parents who want things in life, sometimes they have to move around to get it.
I went to a small school, and there really weren’t many other options, which meant the girl who did actually become school captain wasn’t overly bright.
This is not a Queen P metaphor. Stay with me.
You see, the girl who became school captain had to go away for a few weeks. And because she wasn’t a clear-cut leader, while she was away the headmaster thought it would be a good decision to spread the duties around.
When she returned, her crown had been dislodged, never to return. I’m not sure she even noticed.
There’s an old saying in workplaces that it’s dangerous to take a holiday.
While you’re away, the knives are out and any mantle you’d risen to would be at risk of being stolen in your absence.
You’re at your weakest when you are not there to defend yourself, so they swoop like a pack of hungry seagulls to steal chips that were never rightfully theirs.
Higher forces are having their chips delivered in butcher paper, so they’re less empathetic to the poor sod who thought they’d put their feet up in the Mediterranean for a couple of weeks.
This is where the metaphor kicks in.
The Queen P found in a third term that a new skinny little man with an articulate mouth had entered the fray, and suddenly things became more competitive.
He’d always been there, but he had to rise from the shadows of the evil overlord.
To cut a long story short, the honeymoon was officially over and things became tougher for the queen.
The other Ps see that there’s a challenge and they feel the best way to counter is to challenge the matriarch.
It’s extreme, but maybe a new matriarch. Or overlord. Who knows?
Either way, there’s a problem with signing up to something which has rules. The rules change, and so does the allegiance of worker Ps who’ve been busting their busy wings to get the parliamentary honey all these years.
They might not all get to be queen, but they might see an opportunity for a sweeter ride.
Hey Wanda, P-hive politics is exhausting. Feel like a holiday?
