Order Only: Malfoy and Warrington, etc
Feb. 14th, 2009 11:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alt_arthurThat latest post from Malfoy was illuminating. Stomach-turning--I agree with you there, Sirius and Minerva--but illuminating. The thing is, I'm one of the ones who's been doing the fieldwork for this study, without precisely understanding up until now why Warrington has been asking for the data. For the past few weeks, instead of leaving me in peace to do my usual work in the camps, he's been sending six of us out in pairs to interview pureblood families living near three camps: Salisbury in Wiltshire, Melton in Leicestershire, and Norwich in Norfolk.
I must say, the questions that Warrington gave us to pose are exceedingly impertinent. First of all, the family tree is discussed to determine that there is no hint of mudblood taint. What are your fixed household expenses, and how much would you be willing to increase them to provide for a live-in servant? Would you consider employing Muggle domestics? What if the Ministry provided a stipend as an incentive, and how high would that stipend have to be? Do you have tutors or nannies for your children currently? In the past six months? In the past five years? How many house-elves are associated with your household, and how many generations have they been in your service?
My embarrassment is only increased by the fact that the partner I've been assigned to work with, Geoffrey Dunstan, is quite the toffee-nosed snob. (That's 'Geoffrey,' if you please, not 'Geoff.' Pronounced 'JOFrey,' he'll have you know.) He automatically crosses anyone off the list as unacceptable if they serve us the wrong sort of tea. It is quite clear that he thinks very little of me, considering me an uncivilised lout at best. Perhaps he imagines that his chief task on these little visits, other than rather rudely pumping people for information, is to keep me from bringing shame to the Ministry by putting my mucky boots up on the damask furniture.
It has been unpleasant, but more than that, it was worrying, too. There was something there, something that these questions were fishing for, and I couldn't quite see what they were after. Now it seems clear: we are apparently laying the groundwork for a marketing campaign for a commodity that Malfoy is apparently eager to push. Pleasant, docile, premium mudbloods--snaggle teeth are clearly unacceptable. What utter bollocks! I suppose I'll have a better idea once I've read the final report that Warrington's deputy Vilas Rupadam is preparing.
(House-elves. I've got the threat of poisoned wells in Surrey, a whooping cough epidemic in Yorkshire, thirteen dead of hypothermia in one camp in one night because there's not enough bloody firewood to keep people warm, and they have me out there asking about ruddy house-elves.)
I must say, the questions that Warrington gave us to pose are exceedingly impertinent. First of all, the family tree is discussed to determine that there is no hint of mudblood taint. What are your fixed household expenses, and how much would you be willing to increase them to provide for a live-in servant? Would you consider employing Muggle domestics? What if the Ministry provided a stipend as an incentive, and how high would that stipend have to be? Do you have tutors or nannies for your children currently? In the past six months? In the past five years? How many house-elves are associated with your household, and how many generations have they been in your service?
My embarrassment is only increased by the fact that the partner I've been assigned to work with, Geoffrey Dunstan, is quite the toffee-nosed snob. (That's 'Geoffrey,' if you please, not 'Geoff.' Pronounced 'JOFrey,' he'll have you know.) He automatically crosses anyone off the list as unacceptable if they serve us the wrong sort of tea. It is quite clear that he thinks very little of me, considering me an uncivilised lout at best. Perhaps he imagines that his chief task on these little visits, other than rather rudely pumping people for information, is to keep me from bringing shame to the Ministry by putting my mucky boots up on the damask furniture.
It has been unpleasant, but more than that, it was worrying, too. There was something there, something that these questions were fishing for, and I couldn't quite see what they were after. Now it seems clear: we are apparently laying the groundwork for a marketing campaign for a commodity that Malfoy is apparently eager to push. Pleasant, docile, premium mudbloods--snaggle teeth are clearly unacceptable. What utter bollocks! I suppose I'll have a better idea once I've read the final report that Warrington's deputy Vilas Rupadam is preparing.
(House-elves. I've got the threat of poisoned wells in Surrey, a whooping cough epidemic in Yorkshire, thirteen dead of hypothermia in one camp in one night because there's not enough bloody firewood to keep people warm, and they have me out there asking about ruddy house-elves.)