Blow Me
You know, there's not much any one of us can do about a lot of things, but there's no reason/excuse for any of us to tolerate leaf blowers. And no - I don't mean the puck bunny kind. Besides, somebody has to be attracted to hockey players. I mean the A.W.O.L. looking types who come around with those gas-powered noise-makers and blow leaves from private to public property. Or, in some cases, from private to private property.
They're a menace. Some kind of workfare scam, I'm sure. And in a sane universe, they wouldn't exist.
Anyway, not to get to wrought up but it makes me want to eliminate every Goddamned Idiot Stupid Fuckfaced Moron who ever said anything even remotely like, "Oh. Well." in response to my fear and loathing of leaf blowers.
And yes - it's personal.
I work in a house office. That is to say, my office is in a house that is shared with another company. I am a secretary. The other company is a partnership of computer guyz. They are all men. I am a woman. They are all bosses. I am, as I said, a woman. I mean, a secretary. I work for one of their investors, one of their fellow bosses.
Anyway, because we're in a house, we have some property upkeep responsibilities, one of which - apparently - and there is no way around this - none - nothing that can be done about it - nothing - involves paying a couple of goons to come over and blow leaves into a pile using gas-powered noise-makers. Now, I'm here at the time of day these fellows show up. And as happened the other day, they showed up when I was taking dictation over the phone. So, I went outside and said, "Say, do you fellows have a rake? Because I'd prefer you use it rather than those machines. I can't hear myself on the phone. Let alone the person I'm supposed to be listening to. And it's my boss, so, like, yeah."
Well, apparently, some people have never heard of a rake. I mean, these guys come in a decent-sized truck with a company name on the side, but... nope. No rake. I'm not kidding. They were actually looking at me with a fair degree of confusion. "What's wrong with using these?" they asked. Plaintively. "Well, those are gas-powered noise-makers that blow leaves around. A rake is a tool that rakes. Leaves. Quietly. And without causing a powerful chemical smell right outside my window that actually makes my eyes water." (Bear in mind, dear reader, that I am from Sault Ste. Marie. I am NOT sensitive to pollution.)
They left. Not in a huff. Not having thought they'd been fired (as they claimed to one of the computer guyz who had hired them and was left to pay extra for their return later to blow leaves with their gas-powered noise-makers) but because they didn't have a rake. Which meant they couldn't mow the lawn apparently, either. All of this being my fault for being intolerant of gas-powered noise-makers. Or - a woman, as it were.
So here's the thing. When I stood my ground on the leaf blowers with the men of the house, I was told it wasn't my place to interfere in how the leaf blowers did their job because I wasn't actually responsible for maintaining the property. I'm just a secretary. The men of the office are all bosses. They hired the leaf blowers. And they don't care about how the leaves are dealt with - just that they are dealt with.
And I guess that's the way it is. Except that now I'm really mad. Not at the leaf blowers anymore, but at the bosses who hire the leaf blowers - just because they can. And who pull rank on secretaries - just because they can.
It's an unjust world, sure. But it's no wonder with such stupid and lazy people running it. Harsh? At this point, being fired would probably be just the thing I need to live my life free of stupid and lazy people.
Yes. I'm in a bad mood. And I know the motto is, "Don't get mad - get even." But I'm not the getting even type. I'm the getting mad, thinking hard about why I'm mad, who I'm mad at, and coming 'round full circle to me type. I'm mad at me. Because I was powerless to do anything about the leaf blowers. Not because I'm a woman, necessarily - but because I'm just a secretary. And you can call it whatever kind of officey/administrativey thing you want, but at the end of the day - it's still a drag.
Mama, don't let your babies grow up to be secretaries.
