It's My Job...

You like Jimmy Buffett?

He said, "It's my job to be cleaning up this mess
And that's enough reason to go for me.
It's my job to be better than the rest
And that makes a day for me."

One of my favorites...

Don't know much about this man. First amendment rights and all that, but if he worked for me, I wouldn't want him talking about the customers like this.

Had a friend, her father was a big man too, also a trash collector. He seemed happy enough. It was his lot in life, and he accepted it.

Do your job, buddy. You don't like it, work to get another one.** Yep, even in this economy.

Media: Can't you just stick with the racial warfare, or do we have to go exploiting poor* trashmen too now, just to get the president re-elected?

Fwiw: here's the next verse:

I got an uncle who owns a bank;
he's a self-made millionaire.
He never had anyone to love,
never had no one to care.
He always seemed kinda sad to me,
and I asked him why that was?
And he told me it's because,
in my contract there's this clause...

Chorus:
That says, "It's my job to be worried half to death
And that's the thing people respect in me.
It's my job but without it I'd be less
Than what I expect from me."

----------------------
* Not in a financial sense.
Like busdrivers, union trash collectors are pretty well compensated for their work. Relatively speaking.

** Nothing personal, but I'm sure there are plenty of men willing to step up and take your job -- and your paycheck -- if you're so miserable working for others. Comprende?

"It's my job, but without it I'd be less than what I expect of me."



PLUS: From Mitt Romney's book (p. 251):

“During my campaign for governor, I decided to spend a day every few weeks doing the jobs of other people in Massachusetts. Among other jobs, I cooked sausages at Fenway Park, worked on asphalt paving crew, stacked bales of hay on a farm, volunteered in an emergency room, served food at a nursing home, and worked as a child-care assistant. I’m often asked which was the hardest job – it’s child care, by a mile.”

“One day I gathered trash as a garbage collector. I stood on that little platform at the back of the truck, holding on as the driver navigated his way through the narrow streets of Boston. As we pulled up to traffic lights, I noticed that the shoppers and businesspeople who were standing only a few feet from me didn’t even see me. It was as if I was invisible. Perhaps it was because a lot of us don’t think garbage men are worthy of notice; I disagree – anyone who works that hard deserves our respect. – I wasn’t a particularly good garbage collector: at one point, after filling the trough at the back of the truck, I pulled the wrong hydraulic lever. Instead of pushing the load into the truck, I dumped it onto the street. Maybe the suits didn’t notice me, but the guys at the construction site sure did…”

Can we go back to covering the news, and let the chefs stir the pots? Thank you.