Paper Pusher

Let me tell you a little bit about my “day-job.”

I refer to it as such because deep down, in my heart of hearts, I am deeply and profoundly disappointed in myself for working as a secretary. I have a master’s degree for fucks’ sake (A master’s degree that I paid dearly for–with my sanity, and with borrowed money–that I will be paying off until I die).
Sounds like a really fucking shitty thing for me to say about myself and/or my current ‘profession,’ huh?
I don’t say this because I don’t like secretaries or because I think they’re dumb. Actually, it’s quite the opposite–my own mother worked as a secretary for years before she went back to school to become a nurse. I will say that while there are the “dumb/lazy secretary” stereotypes out there, I would argue that the majority of women who work as secretaries are capable of multitasking like you would NOT BELIEVE, all while being grossly under-appreciated, and, I would imagine, grossly under-compensated (not only because we are considered by the majority to be lowly servants, but also because we are mostly women).
At my place of employment, we tend to cater to those disgustingly rich, elitist fucks whom I never knew or believed existed outside of Thurston Howell III and his wife Lovey.
(Welcome to Brookline, Massachusetts; a town comprised of (what I am convinced are) the inbred rich–y’know a little brother/sister-fucking to keep all of that cash in the family, never hurt anyone, amiright?)
I grew up in tiny town Kansas, and the only people I had initially thought were “well-to-do” turned out to be highly functioning alcoholics with new cars, big egos and even bigger credit card bills.
But ACTUAL rich people? The truly disgustingly, filthy rich people? Pfffft. They didn’t exist.
Ohhhhhhh, how wrong I have been.
The wealthy are the people who have not a care about how the rest of the world functions with them in it; the wealthy are the people who only care about how the world functions in catering to them. After all, they ARE the center of the universe, yes?
I mean, who else would show up half an hour late to an appointment that was slated to be 45 minutes in length and still expect to be seen? To make matters worse–OF COURSE WE STILL SEE THEM, regardless of how late they walk in the door. Heaven forbid they throw a tantrum and never come back to our office (I’ve seen it before, I’ll see it again).
And speaking of things that heaven would forbid?
Well, apparently heaven would forbid that these disgustingly rich pigs make their own appointments at other dental offices. I feel as though I should arrive at work wearing a sandwich board emblazoned with the statement: “Why should YOU do it? Ask me about our ass-wiping services!”
My boss even offers to these well-to-do patients: “If you know your schedule, Elissa will call over to Dr. Fang’s office and schedule your visit.”
And guess what?
These assholes never know their schedule. They stand at the desk, hemming and hawing about their vacation schedule (“to the Vineyard, and of course THEN we are going to Israel and THEN Turks and Caicos,…Florida…and oh! AND THEN we’ll be back for two days before we go to Mexico for three months to build homes for the less fortunate–and THOSE PEOPLE are so primitive, you know, it’s just heartbreaking, really, that we even have to go there and help them at all–so how about we schedule something for one of those two days that we’re in town?!! Although I need very specific times–I’m getting my hair done and some (plastic) surgery during that time, too, so YOU will need to make that work for me…”) while I sit on the phone with another secretary at another office, and she and I are both sighing in disgust that we let our lives become this…life of servitude…to these monetary monsters.
It pays the mortgage and the bills. Right?
It pays more than teaching at some bullshit unaccredited art school (WHICH, by-the-way, are also brimming with trust-fund kids and arrogant assholes who have little-to-no artistic talent–uh, no thanks). Right?
So what’s my problem?
I have pondered this often. Actually lost sleep over it. Is it me? Am I being the asshole in this situation?
After much consideration, I have decided that I just genuinely don’t like people who have/come from money, act like they have/come from money (i.e. believe they are above all others) and are also boastful of their money. I especially don’t like people who have never had to do actual work for their money; in fact, I will openly admit to anyone that I HATE those people.
And I’m totally okay with that.
My therapist thinks I may have some jealousy issues, but I think she needs to shove that bullshit straight up her ass.
I don’t know how I can be jealous of something that just wasn’t ever a possibility?
Money wasn’t a ‘thing’ we had.
And if you didn’t have it, you just did without.
If you needed it, you worked your ass off for it.
I’ve never aspired to have any money because I’ve never had any money.
And here I sit, every day.
Working for the rich, catering to the rich so that I might be able to eek out a living.
So that I might live hand-to-mouth while I am forced to listen to the lifestyles of those with more money than God.
All while smiling politely as the rich treat me like the help.
All while smiling politely as I listen to the trials and tribulations of those who “simply can’t change my earlier flight for a mere dental appointment.”
I’m not saying we don’t have a few nice people (‘real’ people) who come to my office. It’s just that the assholes greatly outweigh the nice folks.
Good Christ.
What the fuck am I doing here?

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