I’ll think twice, no, four times, before I’m drawn into another futile, unwinnable battle against the nefarious, illogical forces afoot in the land. Now, when I say forces, I mean bullies and when I say bullies, I mean the powerful villains who shake you down because they can. Or for fun.
You know the type, guys who make the rules, guys who make you fork over your lunch money. My insurance company does that. So does my bank. When asked why there’s a fee for paying my bill, they both said it was a ‘convenience fee’. Honestly? I don’t find it convenient and they wouldn’t tell me whose convenience was involved — mine or theirs.
I’ve tilted at landlords, parking enforcement, the cable company, wrong-headed policies. I’ve even tilted at winter, anything I’m powerless against. Those are the battles I picked to fight, the ones I can’t possibly win. There was a dumpster once, too. I limped away from that.
See, I didn’t care so much about winning. I cared about the standing up. I cared about not going gently, to mix my metaphors (or literary allusions). You know the old expression, you can’t fight city hall? Well, that’s a load of crap, of course you can fight city hall. You can go at it tooth and nail, hammer and tong. What you can’t do is win and that’s what pushed my ‘tilt’ button.
I knew it was pointless, I knew I’d pay a price, but I had to bump gloves and put up my dukes, you know?
I chafed and bridled and argued. I bobbed and I weaved. Then, KAPOW!, down I went, but not before landing a few punches. This was my way of protesting, my Occupy Wall Street. The difference is I didn’t have a prayer. Or a clue. Or the numbers. I didn’t even have Sancho Panza.
Right after my last battle, a thought occurred: this is stoopid. Then I said it out loud, through swollen lips and loosened teeth, thith ith sthoopit! And now, if you’ll excuse me, the EMTs are here.
Copyright © Publikworks 2011.