
Welcome to Boundless, the 100-year-old mutual club where civil servants and public sector pals swap their sensible shoes for discounted spa weekends and cheap caravan getaways. Once just a motoring club, it’s now a lifestyle fortress—complete with holiday parks, insurance deals, and shopping discounts. The catch? You and I can’t get in, unless we swap careers for a civil service badge and a pension plan thicker than a Tesco Christmas catalogue.
🛑 The “Sorry, You’re Not On the List” Lifestyle
Let’s break it down: Boundless isn’t so much about motoring anymore—it’s about building a velvet rope around “safe,” stable members who can flash their government credentials like VIP wristbands. Your membership fees go back into the pot, so you can enjoy members-only cottages, theatre deals, or cheaper fish and chips by the seaside.
Sounds cosy, right? Unless you’re on the outside, where the wider public—the very people funding the state—get the privilege of watching discounts evaporate like free Wi-Fi in a Travelodge lobby. Providers are happy to dish out exclusives to this club because it’s predictable money. But to everyone else? Sorry, you’re stuck paying full price while Doris from HR bags a luxury lodge for half the cost.
The optics? A little rich. Civil servants already have job security, pensions cushier than a DFS sofa, and now this closed perk-palooza. Meanwhile, the rest of us wonder why we’re left queuing for Groupon scraps while Boundless throws a members-only barbecue on the lawn. 🍔🎉
🔥 Challenges 🔥
Why do civil servants get the extra sprinkles on their sundae while the rest of us can’t even lick the spoon? Should perks negotiated with public clout be shared more widely—or is this just harmless workplace welfare with better branding?
👇 Sound off in the blog comments: are you outraged, jealous, or plotting to marry into the civil service for the discounts? 💬😂
Your sharpest takes and saltiest burns will be featured in the next issue of the magazine. 🎯📝


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