The Rise and Fall of the Houseman

Written by REVSCRJ

Okay now, this "face" job required I don one so thick I was like a soothing automaton of pure upper-class public service. Truly repulsive--felt like a pane of Plexiglas between me and my soul. If you are rich let me ask you: why the fuck do you want people to act like this around you? Is it that you need to think that you are the only "real" person in your world? Is it that you view other people as meat-with-a-purpose-for-you? Do you just care so little about the beauty of life that you'd rather be surrounded by functions than beings? If any of those are the case: fuck you.

You deserve to be strung up and bled like a deer. You make life worse for everyone. You are a pox on Humanity and I am not the only one who thinks so. Shape up. Humans are beautiful, if you don?t try to make them fit an unnatural mould; if, on the other hand, you do, they warp and twist. Check it out: the bulk of the clientele at this place were wealthy golfers who'd come to spend $500+ per day to shoot golf at Pebble Beach and the like, then atop that a few bills a night to sleep at the B&B. These were the kind of young rich fucks who'd try to be all chummy with you, come off as relaxed and casual, but would complain if you didn't laugh at their jokes or if you showed a counterpoint to some racist or classist remark they'd make. Speaking of which: if you volunteer your opinion, expect to be challenged, if you don?t want to be challenged SHUT THE FUCK UP! Fucking cancerous shoulda-been-smothered-at-birth-bitches.

"Hello. My name is Sean. I will be your houseman for this evening. If there is anything you might need- directions, dining suggestions, locations for dancing et cetera- please, please don't hesitate to ask me. I have set out hors dourves, should you desire, there is wine and other beverages for your taking. I will be clearing them in about an hour, so feel free to eat, relax and enjoy your stay on this lovely peninsula. Again, my name is Sean, and I am at your disposal. Thank you."

What really gets me about that speil is the "thank you" at the end of it. I mean: what the hell had they done that I should be thankful for? Sure they indirectly pay my bills by picking this B&B out of the dozens that litter this place, but that is no excuse for the treatment I would get from them. It was like this: I was a machine with a placid face, period. I was a means to a certain end, a few keystrokes on a computer. A totally unhealthy way to view another life form (as they are a different species than the bulk of humanity) that promotes a self-centredness so deep that they miss out on 90% of the beauty of life (because most beauty has NOTHING to do with you, and especially them). Bastard wants wine, Sean BETTER get it now. Bastard wants a softer pillow, Sean BETTER quickly, calmly, and quietly get one here A.S.F'N.P! Calm, quick and quiet is a really annoying state to have to be in. No matter how tense a given situation might become it was elemental to my job that I always appeared totally unmoved and in control.

I was fired from this job by a manager named Julia and I think it was because she had a grudge against me for almost killing her one time. Sure, the official reason was that I forgot to put out a tablecloth- god damn ME, I am such a no good slacker--but after I nearly offed her she really never treated me the same. It went like this: I was responsible for making hordevours for the guests and every day I would concoct some sort of creative mousse. I became pretty good at it: raspberry chocolate topped with black berries, ground pecans mixed into a double sweet vanilla- fuck man, you don't even know how tastey those things were! Anyway, one day I make this chocolate-almond mousse laced with Kaliua and I'm in the kitchen writhing in this rich culinary narcissism when Julia walks in.

"Oh hey Julia, you GOTTA try this- its amazing!"

"If you do say so yourself." She was a drop dead gorgeous woman with a smile that could melt you. She was very aware of these traits and used them as tools of power, ie: a woman to stay the hell away from.

"Hell yeah I do! Here." I hand her a spoon of it.


"And some other stuff. Divine. TRY IT!"

"Okay, okay." She puts the spoonful to her mouth and gets that very particular expression a woman get when you feed them something sweet- you know: eyes roll back under the lids, chin lifts and the whole head swivels on the neck in a tiny fast "S" shape... sexy stuff... anyway this time I am watching her do this when suddenly her eyes snap open and fix on me slightly frightened. "Is... that... 'almond'?"

"Yep, goes so delicately with the Kal-"

"Oh GOD, I'm REALLY ALLERGIC to almonds!!" and she turns and BOLTS out of the kitchen.

I pull off my apron, grab my coat and dash out to see if she needs any help- like for me to drive her to the hospital (its the least I can do, really). Only about 2-3 minutes have passed and I find her getting into her car. She says to me:

"No ish okay Shawn I jush haf to ge' ta the hoshpital, I shink I can make it."- like that because her tongue had already swollen up that much. She made it to the hospital barely able to breathe. Oh me! Faux pas.

Up until then she'd been a pretty good employer, but a manslaughter attempt will alter your perception of an employee. Oh well, chalk it up to luck. This job was innately against my nature anyway. Fuck rich golfers, the less I deal with them the better. I suppose I should have thanked her for firing me.