606: Independence and helping

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I prefer to do things myself.

Partly this is my nature, and more than that, this is my experience. I have been taught through many harsh life lessons that things do not happen unless I can make them happen all by my little old self. I have had many people who were supposed to be very important people to me, who were supposed to have my best interests at heart, who were supposed to be there for me when I was down and out – who weren’t. I learned that I can only count on what I can get done myself, with my own admittedly meager muscle, brain, wit, courage, and brawn.

I fight hard not to ask for help, and give in only when I cannot do it by myself. Even then, I usually have tried everything I know to do to get it done first, before I submit and give in, acknowledge my weakness, and ask for help. I do it only when I can’t, and I’ve tried.

So, when I ask you for help, hat in hand and humble, you need to understand what it costs me to ask you.

When you give me an exasperated glance, that long-suffering sigh, with that “how dare you importune me for this ridiculous, unnecessary, paltry, pittance of a request, you annoying woman” look you have perfected on your face?

Guess how I feel.

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379: Rant, rant, rant

A lot of what I read lately can be classified as ranting. Liberal, conservative, libertarian, employed, unemployed, student, male, female, in-between/undetermined, youth, mature, religious, sexual, racial, animal, carnivorous, herbivore, vegan, fruitopian, you name it, people are generally universally upset about whatever, and they are expressing their opinions about it in unambiguous, plain and simple language that makes it pretty clear that they are not thrilled with the situation at hand. Whatever situation that might happen to be, and whichever side of the issue they might have pitched their figurative tent upon.

At the moment, I am pissed off about people who cannot follow reasonable requests and directives who are part of a larger organization that needs its people to cooperate in order to function. And they are not cooperating. Which would indicate that the functioning part is less than satisfactory – and that would be an accurate assessment.

As a minion, a little cute, yellow dude who occupies one of the lower rungs of the institution in question as far as responsibility goes, your job is fairly simple. Follow the directives of the admins – those who are responsible for the parts of the organization that you, as a minion, never see and don’t have to worry about. If you do your job, the place should run fairly well. The problem arises when minions choose not to complete their job functions: missing their assigned duty station, which means that students who would ordinarily behave as humans because you are standing there, doing nothing, choose to misbehave BECAUSE you are not there, visible, doing nothing except standing there.

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The request not to allow your students to make copies on the extremely expensive and particularly snarky copy machines, when ignored, means that every person within reach of that machine is pissed off because it is broken – because YOU sent a fourth-grader to make your copies, because you were too lazy to use your three hours a day of planning time to get your own copies done, in advance of the class you are in when you suddenly realize you need the copies.

That means that I, as a middle level drudge (not a minion, and not an admin) get to morph into a complete and total WITCH, denying everybody access to the copier once it is repaired at great expense, demanding that all of you (not just the miscreant) turn in your printing requests to ME 24 hours in advance, since I re-set all the printer codes so that NONE of you can print on your own anymore, because of the few who are not adult enough to realize that a rule/request from admin MEANS YOU, TOO, IDJIT.

My life would be infinitely simpler as a drudge if you acted your age, instead of your shoe size. And, because you have made my life complicated, I can, and WILL, get even with your lazy butt to the point where you realize that it is easier to do as you are told.

That is how the *real* ranting gets started.