It’s Not Rocket Science…But Neither is Your Job
I’ve reached a low point in my life. I’m being judged by a garbage man with a neck tattoo.
I live in a place that has ‘valet trash’ service. This is a fancy way of saying ‘we pay a bunch of ex-cons and high school drop-outs $20 a night to pick up your trash at your door, for the low, low price of $50 a month.”
Being the dainty flower that I am, I use this program. Well, also, you can’t opt out. My complexes dumpsters are locked up tighter than Fort Knox and only a select group of individuals have the key. From what I’ve seen, you’re only eligible if you have a criminal record and some form of ‘fuck the police’ permanently, and prominently, etched onto your body.
Anyway, the whole valet trash thing seems easy enough. You put your garbage out, they take it. But then you get into the complexities of garbage politics. They won’t take loose pizza boxes. They won’t take unflattened cardboard boxes. They bitch about bags that are too heavy.
Also, if they fail to show up for three days, and one of the several billion squirrels that run around get into your trash and destroy it, they bitch about that. I really feel like I need to apologize for that. If there are any valet trash men out there, reading this tonight, please accept the below as my formal apology.
Dear Garbage Man
I’m so sorry I forgot to deploy my Sonar Squirrel Repeller 3000 while you took your spontaneous vacation. Maybe I should have just sat outside for three days waving them away with a fucking broom until you decided to some back. You know, because my life revolves around making a service, that I pay you to do, easier for you. Regardless of how poorly you decide to provide that service.
Sincerely,
Essa Alroc, Person Who Pays You
Tonight was the last straw. As I sat here, finishing up yet another 12 hour work day, I heard one of these douchebags complain through my open window about the way the knot was tied on my garbage bag. The exact phrase; “Jesus, learn how to tie a fucking knot. It’s not fucking rocket science.”
The guy nearly shit himself when my blinds popped open and I responded, “nope, and neither is your job but you still can’t manage to do it without leaving a line of garbage down my walkway.”
He walked away without responding. It was a shame, because I had many more helpful suggestions about what else he could do to make his job easier. Some of the helpful tidbits I was going to recommend;
Try being in the country legally. That way, your job won’t involve working for a shady contractor who owns a pickup truck and only hires dudes that hang out in front of Home Depot.
Try graduating from High School or at least getting a fucking GED. My friend Sara finished her GED in approximately 12 minutes, for $399, by taking a correspondence course she found in her TV guide. No joke, there is no longer any excuse for not managing to at least complete the standard 12 grades. Don’t give me a hard luck story either. This isn’t China. There is more than one free program available out there. Find it, and you might find someone willing to at least pay you minimum wage.
If you have chosen to get a facial tattoo with a swear word or racial slur, you’re not getting a job that pays more than $3 an hour unless you go back to prison. No suggestion here. Just an FYI.
What are you getting from the tips above? If you hate the idea of cleaning up my garbage for a living, it’s not my problem. It’s yours. Do something a little more productive than bitch about the people who pay your salary and things might get a little better for you.
Who knows, maybe someday, you’ll be the one driving the pick up truck.
