Deliver me not unto temptation I can find it myself....

So, I was sitting having lunch with a friend in this hole in the wall not the slightest bit chic café frequented by blue collar workers. The people who own it are really nice, salt of the earth people. Now, I’m being all goodly on my diet and eating only judicious, healthy food…but then a luscious slice of the most divine looking chocolate cake comes out and is placed on the table as a freebie to us. Oh god. Don’t you just hate/adore temptation?  So, I’m looking at this cake. My brain is explaining to me that “we have worked very hard to be good. Don’t eat the cake, fatso.” My hormones are dancing naked and urging me on with seductive words to eat. “You are not fat. You are perfect in our eyes. You want the cake. It wants you. How can it be wrong?”

Bloody hormones. I ask you, how can a brain compete?

I only had three small bites. I didn’t inhale and I didn’t have sexual relations with that cake…god knows I wanted to…. 

Walk a mile…

 

I had a moment at work yesterday when the Business Manager said to me, as I was busy changing my new year’s hotel booking on the Cairns Esplanade – I figured I was worth a fantastic view of the fireworks over the Coral Sea and Trinity Bay and doing all this at work made sense because I had access to my bookers account, where I get rewards for booking travel and discounts and basically because I have too many other important things to do at home…you see the point don’t you? Of course you do. Anyway, so the manager person, who is going to get his bell to ring to generate ‘excitement’ in the office but little does he know it’s tiny because he’s a tight wad and he went for the cheapest bell, which was also the smallest  - tiny in fact – and I could have pointed that out to him but I didn’t want to because I want to see the “excitement” in his face  when the eeny, weeny, nimiscule bell turns up…where was I? Oh yes, the point is…he said to me ‘we need to get the cleaner to do all this extra work  while she’s here.’ I like the cleaner. She’s a battler and the salt of the earth and there’s no bloody way I would make her work extra without the extra dosh (money). Anyway, I spoke to her agency and explained what bell ringer boy wanted and they named an exceptionally reasonable price. I told Quasimodo (bell ringer boy) and he arced up (stamped his feet and pouted) because he is, as stated, a tight wad. He insisted she do it for nothing. Not on my watch.  

Here’s the thing with a lot of white collar workers – they have no concept of the wages and conditions of blue collar workers because they’ve never had to put themselves in a place where they have lesser paying job, that’s not glamorous, just to pay the rent and in many cases barely feed themselves. I say walk a mile in someone else’s shoes and then decide if you would do even more for even less.