Much of the work that I do involves travelling, usually with one of the engineers, to industrial plants, mines or power stations.

In general, these are not located near to luxury hotels with great recreation facilities. More often than not, the nearest town is some previously forgotten backwater that has now sprung to life following the creation of the plant, mine or hotel, and the money from sales of accommodation, food, drink and safety equipment flows in a satisfying trickle to swell the pockets of the locals.

However, I have been travelling for about 30 years now and what has become interesting in a depressing sort of way is the way the working traveller (or is it travelling worker?) is ripped off at each point of the journey.

First, the journey. Until about 25 years ago, air travel was restricted to South African Airways (SAA) and a few minor airlines. Air fares were affordable and, if you were willing to travel at odd hours without cabin service, you could fly quite cheaply. Car hire was also quite cheap and bed and breakfast accommodation about half the price of a hotel and usually quite good.

Things have changed. SAA tickets are now priced at a nearly unaffordable level. This is because price is based on what government is prepared to pay to keep its fleet of politicians flying. On every SAA flight, I see the familiar faces: parliamentarian Joe and Minister Janet. When boarding the airplane, they always greet each other with joy and surprise, like children on a holiday excursion. They stop in the aisle and have extended conversations, while the queue backs up. And the price of my ticket is based on what government sets. And, trust me, there’s no tender involved.

Then there is the matter of baggage. Some person with an advanced degree in stupidity has decided that, if you want to check in more than one bag, you have to pay for the second bag – which involves standing in another queue at another counter, and this wastes your time. But one soon learns (in fact, Senior Engineer Rachel, of our design office, tipped me off about this). You go and buy a surf bag. This is big enough to take a significant amount of clothing, a small surf board, a wet suit, a yoga mat and a bushel of dagga (no dagga in Rachel’s case, but a bigger surf board). If no surf board, the bag folds over into a large bundle. Then all you have to do is pack cabin baggage with one of those bags which can take half a bale of hay and you are good to go. SAA, note well – the weight remains the same. So what happened to a simple baggage weight allowance?

On to the car hire. Car hire used to be fun and cheap. What has happened I can’t understand. More and more of my staff use shuttles and taxis. Having a hired car used to be fun, but no more. Firstly, they ask you to pay a ‘deposit’. This used to be minor. Now it is up to R9 000 in the case of a well-known car hire company. Then, if you scratch the car, you have to pay a minimum of R5 000 – even if the scratch can be repaired in half an hour. They charge you per kilometre, for petrol, for windscreen insurance, for tyre insurance . . . for every damn thing. But they do give you free peppermints!

Accommodation. Ahhh. This is again influenced by governments. If there is a Southern African Development Community conference or anything involving the governments of other countries, they gather like vultures at a waterhole after the lions have had a birthday party with a giraffe. Prices rise, accommodation becomes scarce. You have to use the more dodgy options. True story: With no option, I found a bed-and-breakfast with fresh bullet holes in the window. When shown into my room, I saw the holes. What were they from? Bullets, said the proprietor. Why did she not fix them? Oh, she said, they just shoot ’em through again.

Oh, well. That is it. Ripped off all the way. Soon we will be back to the trains. Can’t wait.