Sunday, April 30, 2006
Monday is apparently supposed to be a "Day Without Immigrants," when immigrants will be boycotting work. Thank goodness the diversity initiatives haven't met with much success. I think we have a French guy in the tax department. I don't know if he counts. No one seems to know much. I passed a guy from the document department in the hall tonight and asked him if he's coming to work tomorrow. He said he only works on the weekends, that he's a part-time employee. That doesn't even make any sense to me. Only working on the weekends? What does he do during the week? Watch television on his couch?
My dad retired a few years ago and he's bored. He plays golf, he and my mother go on vacation all the time, they go out to lunch, they see their friends, they go to museums, they see movies, they read. It all sounds pretty awful to me. All that free time and nothing to do. They take drives into the country, browse antique shops, grow things in the backyard, visit their grandchildren, my dad is teaching himself how to sell stuff on eBay, my mom bought some three-dimensional puzzles that she puts together, I feel really terrible for them, it sounds like a horrible existence. I don't know how people do that. No purpose. No demands on their time. No pressures. It seems miserable.
At the drop of a hat, they change their plans, do whatever they feel like doing that day. That's nauseating. People need routine, they need structure. A schedule of events. To be able to change your plans on the fly means nothing you're doing is very important. To be inflexible is to say "I matter." I'm inflexible. Because the things I do count for something. Mom and Dad don't have that anymore. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I feel bad for them. I told Dad I'd hire him as my assistant, if he wanted to move out here, but he turned me down. I think he was too proud to accept my charity, even though deep down I know he would have wanted it. We could have been a team. He'd type my letters and get my coffee and I'd pay him money and make him feel useful. It would have been a perfect fit. And mom could trail along with my wife and take care of her when she drinks herself into a stupor.
My dad retired a few years ago and he's bored. He plays golf, he and my mother go on vacation all the time, they go out to lunch, they see their friends, they go to museums, they see movies, they read. It all sounds pretty awful to me. All that free time and nothing to do. They take drives into the country, browse antique shops, grow things in the backyard, visit their grandchildren, my dad is teaching himself how to sell stuff on eBay, my mom bought some three-dimensional puzzles that she puts together, I feel really terrible for them, it sounds like a horrible existence. I don't know how people do that. No purpose. No demands on their time. No pressures. It seems miserable.
At the drop of a hat, they change their plans, do whatever they feel like doing that day. That's nauseating. People need routine, they need structure. A schedule of events. To be able to change your plans on the fly means nothing you're doing is very important. To be inflexible is to say "I matter." I'm inflexible. Because the things I do count for something. Mom and Dad don't have that anymore. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I feel bad for them. I told Dad I'd hire him as my assistant, if he wanted to move out here, but he turned me down. I think he was too proud to accept my charity, even though deep down I know he would have wanted it. We could have been a team. He'd type my letters and get my coffee and I'd pay him money and make him feel useful. It would have been a perfect fit. And mom could trail along with my wife and take care of her when she drinks herself into a stupor.
# posted by Anonymous @ 8:33 PM 
