Lazybeeitis

 

Drononimus strolled onto the landing strip and looked to the rows of hives further across the field. He was curious about what he saw. The air seemed to be full of bees buzzing here and there. ‘It’s not the same as here,’ he thought to himself. 

 

As a big worker hit the landing strip and skidded to a halt, Drononimus pondered on whether his colony was a bit lazier than those across the field.

 

Drononimus walked over to two cheery looking guards who just happened to be Milly and Flor on an early shift. He asked, ‘Do you think that we are all a bit lazy?’ 

 

Flor, who fancied herself as a comic replied, ‘If there was an Olympic sport for being lazy, the bronze medal would be mine.’ Not wanting to be out done, Milly added, ‘I can't help being lazy. It walks in the family.’

Drononimus withdraw with a very serious face and wondered why he even bothered talking to the workers in the first place. He decided to address the Drones later.

 

As the sun began to set the Drones gathered in their customary place. 

 

‘Gentlemen’, Drononimus started in a rather formal tone, ‘our workers are lazy.’ His mild curiousness at the beginning of the day had turned to deep concern. ‘With my own compound eyes, I have seen that our neighbours are far busier.’ 

 

‘Do you know what that means?’ Drononimus spelled it out. ‘Lazy workers, means less honey. And that means that when the great smoke descends we get less syrup.’ The myths around the annual exchange of honey for syrup always created concern for the Drones but getting less clearly would be bad indeed.

 

Flushed with the success of bringing in the Consultantz, Drononimus proposed to the Drones that they should be invited back to help tackle what could only be described as a distinct case of Lazybeeitis. The Drones, clearly shocked about an impending syrup shortage, said nothing and Drononimus took this as consent.

 

The next day there was a ratatat on the door of the hive.

 

Drononimus briefed the Consultantz. Tonee summed up at the end, ‘Wee are deelighted to help. Wwwith a thorough review of all the activities weee would soon have a very clear action plan.’ Tonee continued and Drononimus’ thoughts wandered for a moment. At the end of this he was sure that Tonee had said something about driving an agenda of change but had to admit that he didn’t understand that at all. He made a mental note to follow more carefully in future what Tonee said.

 

In no time the young and enthusiastic Consultantz again flooded in holding their clipboards and stopwatches. 

 Two days later the Consultants returned to make a presentation.

 

Tonee began in his high-pitched manner, ‘Gentlemen, eeet is clear that there eees a problem but it eees not Lazybeeitis as you first thought. It is far more seeerious.’ Drononimus was visibly shocked.

 

Tonee continued. ‘In today’s climate it is not about just working hard. You have to beeee smart as well. Your workers are making too many long-distance flights that are not bringing back the required payloads. Secondly, your workers are enjoying themselves too much. We have many findings that show persistent dancing on the landing strip in working hours. So, it is cleeear what must happen. No long-haul flights.‘

 

‘NO LONG-HAUL FLIGHTS!’ the Drones shouted in unison. Tonee was clear in his response. ‘Short-haul flights are more economical allowing greater payloads.’

 

‘What is more,’ Tonee continued, ‘no more partying.’ The Drones did not react with the same surprise. Dancing had always seemed rather frivolous to them.

 

Later that day as the news of the changes spread through the colony Milly and Flor were chatting in their customary way on the landing strip.

 

Milly was clear. ‘Short-haul flights will work for a while but only until the apple blossom in our orchard is over. Just you wait until the flowers in the distant gardens start to flower, we will be in trouble then with no long-haul flights.’ 

 

Flor allowed herself a brief waggle as she contemplated the end of the dancing. ‘Anyway,’ she commented, ‘we dance better than hens.’

 

‘How do hens dance?’ Milly enquired.

 

‘Chick to chick!’ Flor added a ‘boom, boom’ for effect.

 
Their thoughts returned back to the day’s events. Milly recounted her witnessing a very odd occurrence. ‘A lorry-load of tortoises crashed into a trainload of terrapins. It was a turtle disaster.’