To all my struggling brothers and sisters out there, this one’s for you.
I’m typically not one to complain, but I will call you out when you add insult to injury. Today you called an “important” meeting for twenty-five employees. We walked into the meeting room sketchbooks in hand, anticipating some message of substance. To our surprise, you called us in to insult our work ethic — not to accuse us of being lazy or inept, but to truly devalue our work at it’s core. Your speech went a bit like this, “Now what I’m about to say may not apply to all of you but it will definitely apply to some of you. Some of you may have been under the impression that you are allotted five paid sick days. I don’t know who spread this rumor but it is not true. Also, the firm does not cover dinner unless you work late — late meaning past ten o’clock. And take it easy on the alcohol, the budget just doesn’t add up. I know the prices can change a bit when alcohol is in the mix. Let me tell you, I’ve worked here for a year and I’ve never missed a day or had dinner on the company budget. Did anyone have any questions?”
Your invitation fell flaccid to a silent room as we stared in stupor after your ridiculous and condescending message.
I know full well what I got into when I took this job and for the record, I enjoy what I do and the people I work with, but I do not need the constant reminder of how degrading you are making the profession of architecture. Did it ever cross your mind that the reason you never had dinner on the company budget was because you were never paid three-hundred-twenty bucks a month while having to pay four months rent for your apartment in advance? The very fact that you called a meeting rather than sending an email is an indication that you believe our being cognizant that we must earn our five dollar dinner has priority over our tasks at the office. This is where you insult us. And only did you do so by taking us away from our work, but you made a mockery of our contribution to the office and further slander us by implying we have an alcohol problem.
So here I enlist the help of Kanye West and Mike Monteiro to recall the thoughts in my mind, “Hold on, imma let you finish, but fuck you, pay me.”
I’m kidding, I’m really not too mad about the financial suffering, but it’s the disrespect that vexes my soul. And if it’s money that buys respect, I applaud you for your $100,000 sportscar that you hired a driver for…
Seriously, put that shit in a trust fund for your kid — oh wait, that must have come from my free dinner budget.
One of Many
[Disclaimer: The ideas portrayed in this post do not necessarily reflect the thoughts and feelings of BuildingSatire staff. We appreciate your not firing us.] Sike.
If you’d like to share your story of pain and misery, please send it to us at buildingsatire[at]gmail.com. Perhaps we’ll post it. Be safe out there and use protection.