I have been a social worker, with a bachelor’s degree, and I’ve worked with addics, mentally disabled kids, and LGBTQ* youth (three different jobs, not an all-in-one situation) for years. Had a massive burnout once my private situation went down the drain (not going into detail here) and once I had somewhat recovered, I decided to switch professions as I don’t think I’ll be able to shoulder that kind of responsibility again without being crushed under the pressure again. I have huge respect for people who manage to handle these jobs for years without going insane, but I am just not able to do that anymore.
I’ve been working as a cashier in a supermarket since then, but the notion of being responsible for everyone’s mental wellbeing is so massively hardwired into my brain that I often have to remind myself that things like misbehaving kids running amok in the aisles, customers chatting with me about their private problems, or overworked/understaffed coworkers not being able to cope with their workload are NOT my responsibility and that I should NOT volunteer to help others out if I don’t have the time and energy for it and NOT give customers/coworkers advice for their private issues. I always automatically have the urge to “help” and often need to actively resist it for my own mental wellbeing.
Sometimes I honestly envy people with a healthy amount of egoism, and I do not mean that in a sarcastic way.
There was an Arby’s near my home where I would get Jamocha shakes as a treat either as a reward or after special events. One day it was closed and soon after it became a pile of gravel, and now there stands a parking garage.
Call me old-fashioned, but I’ve always been a “beat 'em to death with their own torn-off limb” kinda guy. That’s how Dad did it, that’s how Granny did it, and hell, it’s a classic for a reason.
Hammer smash good but no slice. Axe slice good but no stab. Sword stab good but no smash. Virgin barbarian picks breaky spear. Chad barbarian picks stabby sword for squishy baddies, smashy hammer for crunchy baddies, and slicey axe for grabby baddies.
U shuld lern up before Thog start laughing at u again.
This is a good post, but I'm pretty sure most barbarians are illiterate. Not to underestimate them or anything, but i think this message will be best heard in a pop-up book.
Oh for crying out loud, that is such a Greek attitude. We barbarians are perfectly literate. Just because we don't read or speak Greek specifically doesn't mean we can't read anything. Can you even read Amharic? I can, but to you it all sounds like "bar bar bar" whether I'm speaking Amharic, Egyptian, or Farsi.
You need to look beyond your own borders and realise that "literacy in Greek" ∈ "literacy".
My aunt's husband died suddenly and i was initially sad even though we weren't pals, but when she was going through his papers she found out he was a chronic liar and con artist. he would claim to own a building and be getting money from tenants and it turned out he did not own that building- that kind of thing. he was also cheating. he lied about stuff that didn't even matter, too. so i was glad he passed away before he screwed up my aunt's life more than he did.
'Delighted' is a strong word, but two come immediately to mind:
First was an acquaintance I knew in high school, we had a few mutual friends but I don't even remember his name tbh. The one and only occasion he was ever nice to me was while off his face on molly; the rest of the time he was an erratic, unpredictably destructive asshole who I just avoided. Around age 17ish he wrapped his motorcycle around a lamp post and that was that. Of course there's a chance he might have mellowed out and grown up into a decent human being eventually, but far as I'm concerned he made the world a safer place by removing himself from it.
Second was a housemate who seemed harmless at first but turned out to be a compulsive liar with severe gambling problems - claimed to play poker professionally (he did play at comps, just wildly exaggerated his track record/earnings) and work at a local radio station (total fabrication). Amongst various other fuckery, he ran dipshit scams like selling nonexistent gaming consoles on eBay with our real home address/phone number on his profile, stole and pawned a bunch of our stuff, lied about paying his share of rent/bills while hiding our mail until we got hit with disconnections and eviction warnings, and then skipped town when it all unravelled and we threatened to go to the cops. Last we heard he was still up to his old tricks, and I know wound up serving time for tax fraud.
A decade or so later he was abducted and murdered in some kind of drug-related dispute, and his body still hasn't been found. It's a shitty way to go and I wouldn't wish that end on anyone, but he clearly hadn't learned anything or grown a conscience in the time since we parted ways, so it's a comfort that he won't be able to hurt anyone else now.
I won't go into the details, but my dad was a violent alcoholic and inflicted a great deal of trauma onto me as a kid. I had a job interview shortly after I got the text that he had died. I was in such a good mood that I aced the interview and got the job. Thanks for getting it right for once, Dad.
I wouldn‘t say I was delighted but when my grandmother died I didn‘t feel anything except for relief. She was unable to show any emotions and affection to her grandchildren. Moreover, she kept it a secret all throughout her life that her husband, my late grandfather, had an illegitimate child. She helped Granddad to despise the child all throughout his life and to dismiss the child’s claims, wishes and attempts to make contact. I imagine she would be furious to know that I contacted that same child, my (half-)uncle, and have established a good and friendly connection with him.
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