So, I was washing dishes at work today – more in para 2 – and I discovered something that disturbed and intrigued me. And I wanted really badly to blog about it. AND I managed to remember what it was when I got home ( which I then promptly forgot in favour of ignoring my twitter buddy ( who I really wanted to talk to ) to finish reading xkcd. A feat I have now successfully accomplished, you’ll be over joyed to know. )! Wooh!
[ A quick warning. This post may actually and honestly offend people. I'm sorry if it does. I don't mean it that way, I was just thinking. You'd be surprised how much room washing dishes by yourself gives your thought patterns to stroll. ]
Work tonight was actually alright; things have been kind of awkward lately since we had five staff abandonments in less than a fortnight. Tonight I was on dish duty – something I actually really enjoyed. I impressed the manager twice with my much improved dish-washing skillz ( ie – it doesn’t take me three hours to wash roll pans anymore ) and I kept everything pretty much caught up ( except for some slacking at the end. ). While I was washing out one of the batter mix pans ( the pan of mix you dunk chicken into between batterings to make it delicious and crispy. Well, I wouldn’t know about delicious, but it certainly makes it LOOK crispy, at least. ) and there was a black fly trapped in the water. Over the time it took me to wash the dishes around that pan, the fly managed to crawl his way out of the liquid – his wings completely useless and flat in the wet – and was just stumbling up onto the outer edge when I came to empty the pan out.
I had two options. Save the fly by scooping him out of the liquid and putting him somewhere safe -or- dump the liquid down the drain and swish him away with it to his fate.
I chose option two. The reasoning behind that was: I work in a food place. Food places don’t like flies because they’re evil and unsanitary and make customers unhappy. Unhappy customers mean unhappy managers which equates to less hours and less pay meaning reduced probability of mountain trek/quest/journey with him. This is undesirable. [ Well, okay it was actually: I work in a food place. I saw a fly embedded in the bottom of a cooked roll once. Fly + Food = Bad. ]
So I sent the poor little creature down the drain along with batter mix and doughy flour.
And as I was rinsing out the pan and pumping the drain under the sink ( if you don’t pump it, it overflows, then you have to clean the floors a lot more than you would have had to if it didn’t [ I just remembered that I can do italics here. I'm not tweeting! I can actually stylize my text!! I could change the colour if I wanted to, too!!! ] overflow due to your negligence… ) I tried to suppress my guilt over the little fly’s life – it’s sort of part of the job description, keeping pests dead – and I thought, quite unintentionally, ‘this must be what the Nazi soldiers ( that weren’t heartless ) felt about the Jews they persecuted and murdered. And that doesn’t show my [ non-existent ] hate for Jews. It shows my appreciation of life.
I wondered, as I washed the dishes and with a slight air of “If I remember to blog about this, I bet a bunch of people are gonna get po’d and thing I’m being horrible when I’m really, really not,” if those soldiers felt the same desire to save life but a similar duty to their higher power – ie, the government and its ideals, or, the chicken place – that they felt, as I did, left them no choice. Their first duty is to the people that give them money, protection, stability, a chance to better their lives – not to some unnamed creature that is obviously bad because Big Brother says it is.
I’m not saying that Nazi soldiers were in the right. They weren’t. Killing people because of their religion is just as stupid as killing them because of the letter their name starts with ( or kissing them for the same reason, come to think of it… ), and is inexcusable.
But, I wonder… There are people behind statistics. Those soldiers were real people, who felt and breathed and loved just like me. And, undoubtedly, they felt that same duty-constricted remoteness towards the objects of their cull. Or some of them did, at least.
I don’t seek to excuse, just to point out that at least some of them probably felt bad. But felt like they had no other choice.
In retrospect – I should’ve saved the fly.
And I might stay vegetarian.
xxdruxx



