we're all just teeth in the grass
bizniss class.
occasionally, my company will slip loose the wallet and fly us in overcoddled comfort to japan. It costs something godawful and it is populated by middle-aged or older men (at a spritely thirty, I'm pretty sure I'm the youngest one here). Maybe nine out of ten are men here. Men, in overstuffed reclined chairs with slippered feet and pillows jammed behind their heads.
The flight attendants serve us needless food and drink, running up and down aisles while we sit in absurd leisure. Any minute now I expect someone to come peel grapes and fan people with ostrich feathers. Not that it's all luxury and circumstance; rather, it is a similar sanitized, plastic-baggied world as in the rearmost seats. Just pricier and haughtier.
I had the self-realization just a few days ago that I am uncomfortable being served. It can be in a restaurant or someone to clean my hotel room or someone to park my car. I have this feeling of shame and overprivilege. I don't like anyone doing for me what I could easily do for myself, but find disagreeable. And I suppose that's why I dislike bizniss class. I hate to be coddled. It's patronizing and weakening. I'd rather be in the back with Everyone Else. Take the five thousand extra bucks it costs to put me here and do something useful and meaningful with it. [this an empty shout to my company and similar companies everywhere] I don't need free drinks, upgraded food, and a seat that reclines like a lay-z-boy. Liberal guilt? Slightly, perhaps. I prefer to think of it on a more practical level: a better use of money. For example, of someone I know personally whose house is being foreclosed and could really use the money. Or sending an inner city kid to private school for a year, I don't know. I've sat in coach before; I can do it again. Twelve hours of modest discomfort and less inebriation? Priceless.
"you are not the bright center of the universe! you are not a special and undying flower!" - tyler durden
occasionally, my company will slip loose the wallet and fly us in overcoddled comfort to japan. It costs something godawful and it is populated by middle-aged or older men (at a spritely thirty, I'm pretty sure I'm the youngest one here). Maybe nine out of ten are men here. Men, in overstuffed reclined chairs with slippered feet and pillows jammed behind their heads.
The flight attendants serve us needless food and drink, running up and down aisles while we sit in absurd leisure. Any minute now I expect someone to come peel grapes and fan people with ostrich feathers. Not that it's all luxury and circumstance; rather, it is a similar sanitized, plastic-baggied world as in the rearmost seats. Just pricier and haughtier.
I had the self-realization just a few days ago that I am uncomfortable being served. It can be in a restaurant or someone to clean my hotel room or someone to park my car. I have this feeling of shame and overprivilege. I don't like anyone doing for me what I could easily do for myself, but find disagreeable. And I suppose that's why I dislike bizniss class. I hate to be coddled. It's patronizing and weakening. I'd rather be in the back with Everyone Else. Take the five thousand extra bucks it costs to put me here and do something useful and meaningful with it. [this an empty shout to my company and similar companies everywhere] I don't need free drinks, upgraded food, and a seat that reclines like a lay-z-boy. Liberal guilt? Slightly, perhaps. I prefer to think of it on a more practical level: a better use of money. For example, of someone I know personally whose house is being foreclosed and could really use the money. Or sending an inner city kid to private school for a year, I don't know. I've sat in coach before; I can do it again. Twelve hours of modest discomfort and less inebriation? Priceless.
"you are not the bright center of the universe! you are not a special and undying flower!" - tyler durden
random bits cobbled together by j-dub
1 Comments:
Buddy, I hate to argue, but I think that maybe you are the bright center of the universe. You are definitely a special (and hopefully undying for a long time) flower. Well, you are. Don't deny it. Now make me some oven fries!
Post a Comment
<< Home