I’ve been at my present job for about 6 months now. Outside of the president and myself, the most consistent person here has been the guy that comes in and cleans the office every week. Despite his propensity to blare gospel (which I occasionally counteract with some Spank Rock), he has been pleasant and professional.
Last week, he asked me if I could help him reformat his computer. I hesitantly agreed, since it would set an awful precedent. As much, as I wanted to show him the “How about no” bear:
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… I figured since he is a small business owner in a down economy, I should help the guy out. Plus, I have a hard and fast policy: be supremely nice to anybody that has access to your shit, particularly roommates and people that prepare your food.
Sure enough, today he came in with his laptop and I helped him with it while I picked through my email. When I complained about the situation to my friend, she asked, “How’d he know you could fix it?” to which I responded, “I think he had a hunch when he noticed the four 22-inch screens on my desk.”
In retrospect, I realize that it might have also been influenced by class guilt. In my vernacular, class guilt has replaced white guilt since (1) I’m not even white, (2) I probably would have done this for a white guy. The people I might have a chance of throwing the “How about no” bear at? English majors.
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PS: to Scott Adams and the operators of dilbert.com, your search engine could use some work. I had to pilfer this image from elsewhere.
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