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room2593

Equality

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I've been doing a lot of thinking about equality lately, and . . . I think it's all f-ed up. Really.
I heard a story from a professor who said that he saw a construction worker in the street and thought "poor guy, he never went to school and he never learned to think!" But then he realized that the construction worker was probably just looking at him and going "poor guy, he never learned how to work with his hands, and he's never accomplished anything in his life!"
Since I can't put myself very eloquently outside of writing a story (I'm a writer by hobby), I wrote a story. I don't think this is the right thread for this, but whatevs. This is the internet, I can't be sued.

He stretches and yawns. His jaw pops. Getting up from the desk, the man walks to the copier to see if his papers have finished. They have. The man slumps back into his chair, the picture of weariness. He's been at the office all day with too much to do. There are reports to prepare, a project to finish, a lunch to eat. He glances at the clock and amends his lunch to supper. Another yawn strips him of dignity. So much work and so little time. He digs an again with the apparent gusto of an arranged marriage.
His mind begins to wander and he repeatedly snaps back to focus. Suddenly he realizes that he's been reading the same line again and again. Which is stupid, because it's a memo that he wrote. He needs to wake up. He stands up and starts walking, because it's the only way to get his blood pumping.
He sighs. Why is he doing this? Family? Fame? Money? Well, definitely money. I'm sure family works in somewhere, too, right? He stops consoling himself and buries his thoughts in this new truth. His son left home a month ago and his wife is still grieving. Randy is gone to college. The man can't understand her worry. College is normal. Everyone does it. It is an odd sensation, not understanding her grief. It is putting cracks in their relationship, driving a wedge between them, seperating them. He doesn't like it, but he can't do anything to change it. His wife would just have to deal with it.
His relationship isn't the only failing in his life right now. He's falling behind at work, just a little at a time. His peers seem to have endless wells of time and energy. Right now, his closest rival is doing more work than he is. She drinks as much coffee every morning as he does in a week. She is doing so much that would kill him – break him – buckle his soul. Just watching her makes him tired. It isn't fair.
Great, now he is frustrated. At least anger keeps him awake.
He walks back to his office, steaming at the injustice of the world. When he turns his chair to sit, he notices something outside. There's a bright flash of orange. Is it a bird, or – and there again. It's a hard hat. He smiles a bit at his foolishness. Wishing for a bird of that color in July is like – is like – well, it's stupid, that's what it is. The construction worker stops to wipe the sweat off of his face and neck and leans on the jackhammer. The man in the office stares at the man on the street. How lucky he is, to be inside in the air conditioning. He has a well-paying job in a good business. He has job security and self fulfillment. He gets to think for a living, rather than suffer for his bread.
He starts to think about how good he has it here. It's nice, being able to wake up in the morning and go to work, knowing that he'll return a better man than he was when he left. It's nice, being able to make an impact on the world. His efforts will help build this company up into a world-wide corporation, and where will that jackhammer artist be? Still on the streets, pounding cement into tiny little pieces.
Accomplishment. That's what he has. It's enough to make him content.
As the man sits there, musing, the construction worker looks up and stares at him. The man in the suit wants to say to the man in the hard hat “Look at you! Look at what you've done with your life! Go, be productive, go to school, make something of yourself!” But he can't. There's glass in the way.
The man turns back to his work, renewed. He is driven now. He wants to have his life mean something more than a tiny pile of cement.

It's hard work, but it keeps food on the table. He turns and grabs his disgusting yellow jacket off the bench. Walking towards the site, he swung his lunch box in his hand, whistling to himself. He whistles everywhere.
He arrives and looks for the forman. Finding him, he calls out. “Gary!”
Gary turns and looks for the voice. The man calls again. “Gary!”
“Ah, I was wondering when you'd show up. We've got to put in the sign tomorrow, Don, and we can't get started on that project until you've finished.”
“I know, but it's hard when you're trying to --”
Gary cuts him off with a wave of his hand.
The man walks sullenly to his jackhammer and picks it up.
Concrete melts like butter when you put enough force on it. He is good at what he does, and he enjoys the satisfaction of watching the bits of solid concrete turn into powder. He laughs as impotent chunks of concrete bounce off of his legs. He is invincible.
His troubles with the foreman started at the very first day. Don has friends in the business, and one of them scored him this job for him. However, Gary didn't want to employ him – his rates were too high. Gary had to concede that he is a good worker, but still – anyone can pulverize concrete, right? Eh.
Gary doesn't like that his authority was undercut, and he takes it out on Don every chance he can. Gary jealously guards any opportunity to throw his position in the Don's face. It's getting old. Really old. The man just has to grin and bear it, though. With the utter dearth of construction opportunities, he is strapped for cash, and the kids at home don't care about slump markets.
He stops working, just for a moment. His helmet is sliding down his face. Sweat stings his eyes and leaves salt in his mouth. He wipes it away and stretches his neck.
He sees a man in the office building opposite him. White on black – clean shirt, nice tie. Disgusting. Those are the sort of people who ruin people like him. Don sighs.
All the people with money want to keep it. The rich idiots skimp at paying good money for labor, and when they build, they end up with shoddy work for cheap. Any construction worker who wanted could find work, but at what price? When you know that it's your stupidity that caused the building to cave or the roadway to crack or . . . it would kill him, being rushed to do bad work.
He has integrity. See? Integrity. Something that a man in a suit can't understand. Working with your hands, now there's a way to prove your worth. When you work with your hands, you've got something to show for it. When you work like that man up there, all you've got is 'figures' and 'percentages' and 'projections.' How long will that last?
Don shakes his head. Sad, really – the depths to which a man can sink. He turns back to his hammer, happy. He whistles a little, and then watches the concrete break.


Edited by BuffaloHelp
Do not edit moderator's quote (see edit history)

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room2593,DO NOT REMOVE MODERATOR'S ACTION ON YOUR POST.I have placed QUOTE tags because it's a copy and paste from another site to our forum. Please review our forum rules about copy/paste and plagiarism, even if you wrote it--when you post in our forum and to another site (even on your own site) it's double dipping on our credit system.

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yeah, but the most important thing is, whehter a person in current condition is happy or not. I found labor more happy than millionaire. Formal education dont guarantee good life but there are many example of people who are teachers of many educated people. I am mixing both poverty and illiteracy. but in both cases i found the similar situation.

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I have placed QUOTE tags because it's a copy and paste from another site to our forum. Please review our forum rules about copy/paste and plagiarism, even if you wrote it--when you post in our forum and to another site (even on your own site) it's double dipping on our credit system.

My sincerest apologies. I didn't know that you added the quote tags - I thought they were automatic. Also didn't see that in the general forum rules - I have been informed. I thought that anything that was mine was fair game.

My thought about equality still stands, though. What do you say as to the discrepancy of obama vs. a whigger in a trailer park? Is the president inherently a better person, because it seems that way. No matter how happy that trailer park junkie is, he still doesn't have the same level of accomplishment as the president. In a world where worth is established based on achievement, how can we say that happiness makes all people equal?
It doesn't seem logical.

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