 |
Since 1996, I have harbored some
regret for quitting
my cushy, seasonal country club pool
manager job.
It was outdoors, I taught swimming, food
and drink
was provided, and I worked with nice
people. But for
some reason I knew I had to get out.
Volunteering tonight
at a fundraiser on the 76th floor of the
Columbia Tower re-
minded me why my decision to quit was
probably a soul-saver.
I don't know what it is about seeing the
gap between servant
and ruling classes manifested so
blatantly, but my stint as
"human photo album" quickly led to me
getting drunk,
despairing, and degenerate. And I don't
think I was alone.
It's just that maybe for those used to
prowling the corridors
of power, those modes are status quo. It
sure looked that way,
but maybe that's just Mardi Gras. Who the
fuck am I to judge?
There certainly is a feeling of
entitlement which comes from looking
down on it all. Decisions made at the
board tables of the Tower Club
change the face of the city lying at your
feet. The fundraiser tonight
was to benefit homeless teens, which is a
very nice thing, but I can't
help but thinking there's irony there,
somewhere, as the magnates
drink to charity and dream of their next
real estate schemes... |
|
|
