It really only takes a minor change in perspective to understand the blatant absurdity of the world that we live in. The glorious microcosm of how it all works can best be seen in the environment of basic employment. We are generally brought into a dramatic effort, a poorly written play of sorts, and told that these people are going to be telling you what to do and these people over here are your colleagues and equals.
This is all done rather arbitrarily. It’s not as if people are tested to see which ones are gifted with advanced knowledge and which ones are suited for taking orders. It really comes down to a series of accidents that culminate into a pecking order.
It was difficult for me not to think about this all week as I was dealing with the people in my place of employment. All week long I kept asking myself why it was that certain people, and most especially those with very little intelligence, are permitted to lord over me and I was being required to listen to their instruction.
I mean, I’m not even talking about the more esoteric knowledge, either. Even when it comes to the menial job that I possess, I’m constantly being told how to do something by people who lack the skills and aptitude to do the very thing they are advising me on. I drive a tractor trailer in a semi urban environment. For a majority of the day, I am required to do things that are, well, for lack of a better description, dangerous and illegal. The police, of course, tolerate it because they, at least, comprehend that trucks are necessary to bring inventory to stores.
(I say “they, at least” because, honestly, the way people in shopping centers look at me sometimes, you’d think I was just taking up space changing my oil or something. I can’t help but wonder if most of them actually understand that they would have nothing to wipe their butts with if it wasn’t for the big vroom vroom in their precious way. At least ten times a day, I witness people flooring the accelerator after I back into a store off a busy street. They had to wait thirty seconds and they speed off like they were an Iranian hostage being freed after 400 days. I’m not exaggerating, either. I’ve timed it. Thirty seconds.)
In fact, now that I’m on the subject, if it weren’t for the behemoths that they suffer so bravely, Joe and Josephine Average wouldn’t have to worry about toilet paper because they’d have nothing to eat, either. But I digress.
As you might have already put together, the experience of doing this every day out in public is not something a person can just close their eyes and imagine. If you are not a person who knows exactly what this gig is like, day in and day out, it’s ludicrous—preposterous even—to think that you can sit behind a desk and yell at the people who do it. A couple of these guys were still spitting up their strained peas when I started doing this work. Ironically, they’re the ones who are the loudest and most annoying.
Our morning dispatcher is like Frank Burns on crystal meth (google MASH the television show.) We’re talking about a guy who seems nothing short of delighted to talk to someone twenty years older like they’re remedial and intellectually impaired. I understand that supervisors need to supervise but it can be done without making a person feel violent afterwards. That’s the effect I usually observe whenever he has one of his fits of authority. The driver will stand there, fists clenched, smoke emitting from their ears muttering words I’ve never even heard before.
So you may be wondering, if it really is that horrible, why do I continue to do it? Well, as I mentioned last week, we make more than they do. As far as I’m concerned, they can have the room temperature office, the authority and the stale doughnuts.
Just give me the money, baby.
Oh this is good Billy. Take the money and run and enjoy your gig playing music, or.., I have been known to leave jobs where my patience is taxed and believe me, I have a lot of patience. There is always something else. However, keep writing and driving.
I respect the big vroom vrooms. First, I like to have items in stores. Second, I have no idea what it’s like to drive those behemoths. Third, freakin’ physics.