MY GOD!!...It's full of Stars!!!
When was the last time I was surprised? ...I can't remember. One of my best friends once said to me, " Roger I'm not like you, I don't believe that underneath the skin, everyone has a Jimminy Cricket inside trying to get out."
Our boss, one of the sneakiest, vile, double-dealing alcoholics I've ever had to deal with once off handed to me, " You should have been a minister." At the time, I was his assistant in the sales department of 10 sales people in the largest convention hotel in 10 western states.
I didn't drink, smoke, steal, screw with the staff, went home at 5, loved my wife to death, played it straight and beat the pants off the other 9 sales staff to death. Almost everybody else seemed to hate me. I felt crushed and didn't know why. I helped anybody who asked and made nothing of it to management: I was the secret back-up, the secret helper.
Valleys separated us-still. I was never surprised. I was always depressed. I could never play with the cool guys. I was always older, well educated, more experienced, and rejected.
When I worked for a close knit community of ethnic Americans I hired someone to work with me who stabbed me in the back. I never saw it coming. Jimminy Cricket. I work now as a docent in an aviation museum with someone who is full of talk, verbosity, unending need for attention, and when I don't give it to him, he is crushed. Running to the boss, with his wounded ego, pride bleeding from every pore, he stories all contrivances about me that bounces back to me in annoying 'counciling' sessions.
It annoys me the boss, and dysfunction runs throughout the organization. It weakens morale, making grouches out of everyone. One of the few remaining surprises left in my life, an asp still close to my side, for what gain I have no idea. We are all volunteers, no money to gain, no status, no favors, no pats on the back, no visible gains in evidence - just pure spite and a thirsting weak ego to fill.
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Our boss, one of the sneakiest, vile, double-dealing alcoholics I've ever had to deal with once off handed to me, " You should have been a minister." At the time, I was his assistant in the sales department of 10 sales people in the largest convention hotel in 10 western states.
I didn't drink, smoke, steal, screw with the staff, went home at 5, loved my wife to death, played it straight and beat the pants off the other 9 sales staff to death. Almost everybody else seemed to hate me. I felt crushed and didn't know why. I helped anybody who asked and made nothing of it to management: I was the secret back-up, the secret helper.
Valleys separated us-still. I was never surprised. I was always depressed. I could never play with the cool guys. I was always older, well educated, more experienced, and rejected.
When I worked for a close knit community of ethnic Americans I hired someone to work with me who stabbed me in the back. I never saw it coming. Jimminy Cricket. I work now as a docent in an aviation museum with someone who is full of talk, verbosity, unending need for attention, and when I don't give it to him, he is crushed. Running to the boss, with his wounded ego, pride bleeding from every pore, he stories all contrivances about me that bounces back to me in annoying 'counciling' sessions.
It annoys me the boss, and dysfunction runs throughout the organization. It weakens morale, making grouches out of everyone. One of the few remaining surprises left in my life, an asp still close to my side, for what gain I have no idea. We are all volunteers, no money to gain, no status, no favors, no pats on the back, no visible gains in evidence - just pure spite and a thirsting weak ego to fill.
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