I know I’ve spoke before (at length, most likely) about the building in which I work. About how the landlady doesn’t really have her shit together, business-wise, and fails to understand that the relationship between an office tenant and the building owner should be purely professional. No, to her we are more like nieces and nephews crashing at her house for a few months. So she rules with an iron fist, in the way that only a rich, new-age, neohippie who’s never worked a day in her life can.
When she was choosing tenants for the building, she wanted to get a mix of non-profits and for-profits that were “like-minded”, so that together the building could “become a little community.” But she really doesn’t seem to have any idea that these two operations might have different standards for how office buildings should be run. The non-profits are so grateful to have clean, well-lit, spacious offices at a good price that they really don’t give a crap what happens.
Well, guess what? Those of us in it to make a few bucks (and who are paying market value for rent) aren’t so forgiving.
For example: every third Thursday, there is a mandatory “brown bag” lunch meeting that at least one person in every office must attend. We used to skip these, under the assumption that our lunch time is well, out time, but no. My bosses got yelled at, or more accurately, “had a sit-down discussion” with the owner. She was “concerned” that we didn’t “care” enough about what happens with our “neighbors” to take what little free time we have to go to these goddamn meetings.
I went to one today. The topic (I am not making this up): a slideshow of photos of an Ethiopian orphanage. Yes, the kids were cute and all, but seriously. I mean, I might have been interested at looking at five, maybe six photos. It’s a good cause, after all. But 100 pictures? 200? Let’s just say that any chance I had of caring was completely washed away by the thrilling narrative:
“Okay, now here’s the kids getting their hair washed.... Here’s my friend Jennifer putting some water on this girl’s head. They wash their hair with soap.... Okay, here’s the library... Here’s a girl who lives in Seattle now, reading a book... Here’s another girl who wants to read the book too... She’s waiting for the first girl to finish.... Now, here’s a little boy with a different book. He’s looking at the first page…” GAAAAAAH!
And it goes without saying that it was all accompanied by winsome, treacly, lonesome-singer-with-a-guitar soundtrack. Please, people. I’m glad this woman is interested in the plight of orphans in Ethiopia. That is her thing. And it’s a good thing. But it’s not my thing. Is it crazy of me to resent the landlady for forcing me to listen to people talk about their own personal interests during my free time?
No. No it is not. If it ever gets to be my turn to talk at one of these little get-togethers, I’m going to show a slide show of me going to the dog pound and looking at the dogs.
When she was choosing tenants for the building, she wanted to get a mix of non-profits and for-profits that were “like-minded”, so that together the building could “become a little community.” But she really doesn’t seem to have any idea that these two operations might have different standards for how office buildings should be run. The non-profits are so grateful to have clean, well-lit, spacious offices at a good price that they really don’t give a crap what happens.
Well, guess what? Those of us in it to make a few bucks (and who are paying market value for rent) aren’t so forgiving.
For example: every third Thursday, there is a mandatory “brown bag” lunch meeting that at least one person in every office must attend. We used to skip these, under the assumption that our lunch time is well, out time, but no. My bosses got yelled at, or more accurately, “had a sit-down discussion” with the owner. She was “concerned” that we didn’t “care” enough about what happens with our “neighbors” to take what little free time we have to go to these goddamn meetings.
I went to one today. The topic (I am not making this up): a slideshow of photos of an Ethiopian orphanage. Yes, the kids were cute and all, but seriously. I mean, I might have been interested at looking at five, maybe six photos. It’s a good cause, after all. But 100 pictures? 200? Let’s just say that any chance I had of caring was completely washed away by the thrilling narrative:
“Okay, now here’s the kids getting their hair washed.... Here’s my friend Jennifer putting some water on this girl’s head. They wash their hair with soap.... Okay, here’s the library... Here’s a girl who lives in Seattle now, reading a book... Here’s another girl who wants to read the book too... She’s waiting for the first girl to finish.... Now, here’s a little boy with a different book. He’s looking at the first page…” GAAAAAAH!
And it goes without saying that it was all accompanied by winsome, treacly, lonesome-singer-with-a-guitar soundtrack. Please, people. I’m glad this woman is interested in the plight of orphans in Ethiopia. That is her thing. And it’s a good thing. But it’s not my thing. Is it crazy of me to resent the landlady for forcing me to listen to people talk about their own personal interests during my free time?
No. No it is not. If it ever gets to be my turn to talk at one of these little get-togethers, I’m going to show a slide show of me going to the dog pound and looking at the dogs.
“Okay, here’s a pit bull mix. His name is Terry... Here he is going to poop. Looks like a good one... Now he’s sniffing another dog... That one’s a corgi-beagle mix. His name is Sinjin... Now Sinjin’s sniffing Terry…”
2 comments:
Sweet Jesus, that is grounds for flipping a table and taking a crowbar to the (organic) dry wall.
Oh. My. God.
I forgot the best part - the woman presenting the slide show WASN'T WEARING ANY SHOES.
How could I have left that out? I've been remiss.
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