On one occasion I arrived at Lisbon airport, running, running. A security guard stopped me, babbling questions in Portuguese. After thirty years of flying, my brain was telling me one thing: Be Nice To Security. I smiled. ‘Baby’ he said, pointing. ‘Come with me’. He took my bags, and led me through a side door to a queue-less security point where I was sent around the scanner. My mind cast back to the anaconda-queue through Terminal Three the day before, when the BAA security guy blanked my anxiety about standing for so long. Although it’s not just BAA – looking back, that was the only time in perhaps twenty or thirty flights when my pregnancy was obvious that I was shown around a queue. .. [CONTINUED]
In today's bulletin:
BT unions demand inflation-busting pay rise - or they'll strike
Game on for Ballmer as Microsoft launches management shake-up
Sales in a vacuum: Dyson gadgets a cost worth paying
The Parent Project: Planes, trains and queue-jumping
Employees fess up to fiddling expenses
