Thursday, July 29, 2010

Economic Security (double the meaning! double the fun!)


Here's why I know the economy is actually fine: there are people who are paid to sit in the lobby of every building I go to, whose only job is to make sure I write my name down when I get there. Maybe I have to record the time. They MIGHT look at my ID. These men are called "security." I believe this derives from the fact that their asses are secured firmly to their stools, or perhaps how securely they feel about always having a place to nap.

Let's entertain a CRAZY scenario. I just got fired from my shitty job*. I don't have many friends**. Also I got touched in funny places as a child***. Obviously, the best thing I can do is go back to my former employers and headbutt them with bullets. But wait, what's this? A man straining the engineering limits of an XXL Dickies workshirt wants me to write my name down! Alas, foiled again! Wait, nope, not at all. Just wrote my name down and I'm in the elevator unpacking my duffel bag of fun, because exit strategies are rarely part of this game.

I know that's a pretty extreme situation. And I get it, fear is the new awake. We need some sense of protection from the brutish apathy of our godless universe. I certainly prefer guys getting paid $20/hour to watch "The Elevator Channel" over every citizen packing iron. Like Detroit. [shudder] But you see, when you live in NYC you are perpetually five minutes late. So the last thing I want when I get to my destination, all sweaty and huffing, is some townie looking at my ID for three minutes trying to figure out if I'm me or, you know, Ahmadinejad or Kim Jong Il or one of those other adorable dictators. And forget about the fact that I go by my middle name. That is a damn face melter when you try to convince someone of your identity.

So, uh, yeah, we're doing fine? That was my point? Shit, I'm late.

*This clearly does not apply to me because I do not have any job, let alone of the shitty variety.

**Again, not applicable to me. I have a ton of friends. Hi mom!

***This? Totally applicable.†

†Of course it's not really applicable. And I'm sorry. Child abuse is not funny. Unless it happens to really, really shitty kids.

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