the_goren_show | It's a Rich Man's World

I work with very affluent people in a sort of post-modern servant's role - they like to claim I'm not a servant and I get paid peanuts for the priviledge of putting up with them and their complaints while playing the bad guy to those that break the rules. The rules... so many rules.

Today, for example, I had to endure one complaint from someone who said "I don't like to complain...." Who are you kidding? You love complaining! You all have bitching down to an artform. It's so bad at times, I call it Blue Hair Highschool, which is really only partly right and sadly on the mark. The complaint? The painters used the passenger elevator instead of the freight to move things from one floor to the other. "That's our elevator and now it smells like paint!"

Because heaven forbid the painters inconvenience you by doing the thing they've been hired to do and beautify your building.

I just nodded and said I would tell them to use the other elevator. I didn't bother. They were done in her tower anyway and I couldn't take that much stress. It's nearly vacation time for me and I'm badly in need of it after months on end of hearing in essence "I don't like this, make them stop." Well, Buttercup, I don't have that authority. I just sit there and look imposing in my black Pulp Fiction suit with my black tie and white shirt and report all complaints to the board of directors who immediately leap into inaction because they have to govern by committee.

What this means for my suit beclad ass is that when I do things according to the rules, it's wrong. When I wait for the board to tell me what to do, it's a fiasco of emails sent back and forth between people who are really nice individually nitpicking the tiniest things to pieces.

All this for the grand sum of a few thousand dollars over the poverty level a year and just a very few.

Oh, I forgot, I'm the parking lot police too and there is a brouhaha brewing over whether or not we are doing our jobs in relation to the parking situation. We could do our jobs... if we were told what the hell they were. Instead it's a patchwork of things we need to do and no one with the real authority to do them because when the things go wrong, it's usually when I or Bony aren't on site.

Yep, he's still there. Nope, I haven't killed him yet. Yet being the operative word.

I'm a toothless dog really. One day I'm going to lose it on someone like that airline employee did but I doubt very much I will have any support when I snap. They still euthanize dogs no one wants you see.