Social-Justice Warriors

 

(I don't really understand the younger generation.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. Pretty much everybody in Korea lives in high-rise apartment buildings, and this can cause problems because rugrats enjoy tossing stuff out the windows. Anyway, a geezer in his 70s was killed by a rock thrown by a child from the 18^th floor. Because of the kid’s age, he won’t be charged with any type of crime. And I’m OK with that. The whole thing was a freak accident. Nevertheless, the victim’s family is both frustrated and angry.

I prepared bacon and hash browns for Rice-Boy Larry. He was sitting at the kitchen table playing a computer game.

I said, “I woke up this morning and found a lot of garbage on the kitchen counter.”

“What kind of garbage?”

“There was an empty noodle container and some plastic wrapping. But that wasn’t the worst of it. There was red sauce all over the place. It took me fifteen minutes to clean the stuff up.”

“That was me. I ate a snack last night. It won’t happen again.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “No big deal. You help me a lot now that your mother has flown the coop. I couldn’t live in Korea without you. So you’re free to trash the place all you want.” I paused for dramatic effect. “However, if you love me, then try not to leave me with a disaster area in the future.”

I do my best not to yell at my children. Instead, I use guilt and shame to my advantage. Make no mistake. It’s an abusive form of punishment, yet it doesn’t leave any physical marks. I learned this tactic from my mother.

Anyway, my day at work went smoothly enough. I sat with a teacher named Tabitha for lunch. The cafeteria served chicken and French fries.

She said, “I really have to see the principal this afternoon.”

“Why?”

“I want to give him some suggestions about the schedule. I believe that I can make it more efficient.”

I sighed heavily. “You want my advice?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I’m going to give it to you anyway.” I took a long swig from my juice box. “Leave stuff alone. You’ve got enough on your plate to worry about. So let the leadership go about their business without any interference.”

She smiled at me with derision in her eyes. “I’m not like you. I want to make the world a better place, and when I die years from now, it’d be great if a few people actually remembered my name. Plus I want to prevent this school from crashing and burning.”

“Crashing and burning? This place has been around for a long long time. But I’ve seen lots of teachers crash and burn. They take on too many responsibilities and eventually go insane.”

Sometimes, I have a hard time relating to the younger generation. It’s filled with social-justice warriors who have a savior complex. I find them rather tiring if you want to know the truth.

I eventually got home at 6 p.m. and sat on my sofa. I was supposed to vacuum my apartment, but I simply didn’t have the energy. So I watched several episodes of Wentworth instead. Thank God for Netflix.

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