Sassy Quack

Aging

Growing up, I was taught, as so many are, to respect my elders. This included being polite and acquiescing to their demands.

I remember the first time I ever broke this golden rule. I was sixteen and working at a coney island. I'd battled my parents successfully in order to be allowed to work and was determined to make a success of it. Jimmy, the aging cashier, was of Middle Eastern descent but spoke better English than most of the others on staff; which he used to torment everyone else. He seemed to think all of the waitresses existed solely to obey his commands. The breaking point came when he dropped a dish of rice pudding and attempted to command me to clean it up. I lost it and much angry shrieking ensued.

He cleaned up his own mess.

In that case, Jimmy had no actual authority over any of us. Still, I felt some degree of guilt for yelling at an old man...however much he deserved it...though this was mostly overwhelmed by a glowing satisfaction with standing up for myself in the face of injustice.

Now, my world is populated with Jimmy's. Some actually have the authority to boss me around and some don't. For those who do, I wonder why it is that when we become successful, we think it is ok to demand that others (who are NOT our assistants) do things for us that we could easily do ourselves...interrupting their actual work. Are we so insecure that we must ensure that those "below" us know their place? For those who don't, I suppose they are just trying to make up for the fact that they never made anything of themselves.

I wonder why I listen to them. The sixteen year old deep inside screams out in frustration.

Perhaps getting older means that you develop the social skill of politely tolerating those who have none.

I have not yet worked for my own Devil in Prada. I know when she comes along though, I will be ready to face her-and resent her in silence.

Growl,
Sassy Quack