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Dec. 15th, 2010 03:53 pmI got to visit a slaughter house in the dead of night in OK last night. It was a good reminder for me. First, I was surprised to see a smokingly hot girl/woman working there. That knock in the noggin helped me remember a lesson that is hard in my line of work - treat everyone with respect, even in my head. I live to make fun of these idiots and the absurd things they accuse my agency of, but when I put my mind to it I can see clearly how they believe the things they say. They think they work hard, they think life is unfair, and you can find logic in the twists and turns they go through to believe in discrimination where there is none. I have to show this respect both to trick them into telling the truth (destroying their case) and help their supervisors not take the "lies" as emotional abuse. It's a great aid to my job to help people not have their feelings hurt.
I'm in this chicken slaughter house last night and thinking, as I walk through hundreds of people who work a graveyard shift in a slaughterhouse in OK, these people are eating the same core ingredient as people who eat in fancy restaurants where I live. Whether this is sprayed through a tube into a taco bell taco, plastic wrapped in the grocery store, or served at $30 by a waitron in Ballston - it's the same fucking dead chlorine-bathed chicken. Doo, be doop be doo, de doop de dooo, mork mork mork! They're there in the woods drenched in chemicals and processing animals into food and leftovers, wearing make up, t-shirts with opinions and brags on them, covered in gold chains to show wealth and status, in huge shiny fancy cars, talking on cell phones...could be me, easily. It's tempting to look at people who work jobs that require no skills you can't learn in 3 weeks with their not-HS education for their entire lives as different than yourself or the product of a lifetime of irresponsibility and mistakes. They don't see it that way - they see their trials and tribulations as near stardom as anyone on tv or the news.
If they processed us people in the factories the comparison would be even stronger.
Also, I'm listening to a techno hits-dance mix station on the radio from TX through the plains of OK. That's just odd. It seems the removal of DJs has led to far more variety of radio by nationally syndicated stations broadcasting nationwide (like Jack FM). It's soulless, but more widely available. Good or bad I don't know.
Visited my grandma today, who is...only interested in talking about her death. WOW CREEPY. Love ya grandma, but she literally only talked about ... well I tried to ask what she'd like for xmas and the only answer was "my family saved with me in heaven" and a diatribe about her death arrangements. She did offer me the opportunity to ransack her home for anything I might want as she needs nothing...egads. She's been like this for TEN YEARS or so. She's not living today but waiting for death - she has no hobbies, only lays in bed waiting to die. She literally hasn't left the house. 97 years old but she may have died at 75? She was happy to see me, and recognized me (couldn't hear a damn thing though) but it was just a reminder to me not to get stuck somewhere in the future but to ensure I am doing things TODAY in ALLCAPS which I enjoy. Sure it's good to plan for the future, but that doesn't erase the responsibility to make sure today doesn't suck. Or something like that.
God, family...I hate xtian life. At least TX and OK have a 50/50 ratio of churches to titty bars.
I'm in this chicken slaughter house last night and thinking, as I walk through hundreds of people who work a graveyard shift in a slaughterhouse in OK, these people are eating the same core ingredient as people who eat in fancy restaurants where I live. Whether this is sprayed through a tube into a taco bell taco, plastic wrapped in the grocery store, or served at $30 by a waitron in Ballston - it's the same fucking dead chlorine-bathed chicken. Doo, be doop be doo, de doop de dooo, mork mork mork! They're there in the woods drenched in chemicals and processing animals into food and leftovers, wearing make up, t-shirts with opinions and brags on them, covered in gold chains to show wealth and status, in huge shiny fancy cars, talking on cell phones...could be me, easily. It's tempting to look at people who work jobs that require no skills you can't learn in 3 weeks with their not-HS education for their entire lives as different than yourself or the product of a lifetime of irresponsibility and mistakes. They don't see it that way - they see their trials and tribulations as near stardom as anyone on tv or the news.
If they processed us people in the factories the comparison would be even stronger.
Also, I'm listening to a techno hits-dance mix station on the radio from TX through the plains of OK. That's just odd. It seems the removal of DJs has led to far more variety of radio by nationally syndicated stations broadcasting nationwide (like Jack FM). It's soulless, but more widely available. Good or bad I don't know.
Visited my grandma today, who is...only interested in talking about her death. WOW CREEPY. Love ya grandma, but she literally only talked about ... well I tried to ask what she'd like for xmas and the only answer was "my family saved with me in heaven" and a diatribe about her death arrangements. She did offer me the opportunity to ransack her home for anything I might want as she needs nothing...egads. She's been like this for TEN YEARS or so. She's not living today but waiting for death - she has no hobbies, only lays in bed waiting to die. She literally hasn't left the house. 97 years old but she may have died at 75? She was happy to see me, and recognized me (couldn't hear a damn thing though) but it was just a reminder to me not to get stuck somewhere in the future but to ensure I am doing things TODAY in ALLCAPS which I enjoy. Sure it's good to plan for the future, but that doesn't erase the responsibility to make sure today doesn't suck. Or something like that.
God, family...I hate xtian life. At least TX and OK have a 50/50 ratio of churches to titty bars.
