He had a ‘nice gig’ for me. Ah, I’ve heard that before. Usually, it was a removal with an inhumane amount of walking stairs, busting your back over ‘special transport’ or some other cumbersome fuss. That’s why getting up early delights me. Bring on your shitty gig, I thought. I’d mentally prepared myself on a long day of physical discomforts. Prospects improved dramatically once my supervisor explained the gig in more detail. I could use my joys and sorrows for an eviction company for a change. What a lovely prospect to act as a blunt prick and go mental. Enthusiastically I threw a crowbar in the truck, it might come in handy. With great anticipation I drove to the crime scene.
The vibe was great when I arrived. Well, at least among the employees. I was used to be welcomed with biscuits, coffee and a friendly chat as a mover. Reception gets a long colder once you mainly deal with deadbeats, squatters, drug dealers and the like. Needless to say, you often get into interesting scenes when you work for an eviction company. The man of the house had called in some acquaintances in this occasion. Not that it mattered: the accompanying police were far from impressed. We could get to work once they were all forced out of the house. So, let’s get started. Everything had to get completely FUBAR. Great, there’s no need to tell me twice. I grabbed the crowbar and walked back into the house. Carefully I scanned the surroundings for an easiest and juiciest prey available. Ah, a jam-packed bookcase. You’re mine! First I tipped it off, and then I completely trashed it beyond recognition. I also pulled out a curtain in all my enthusiasm. All the deafening noise didn’t pass unnoticed by the chief on duty. Suddenly he stood behind me to start barking. Apparently, I had to do a professional job instead of chopping around foolishly. With an overly happy Joker-face, I suggested tipping the (still untouched) wardrobe over the balcony. A private joke gave me the giggles, which fuelled his annoyance even more. His face was on fire when he walked off. He undoubtedly wondered what kind of vague figure stood in front of him.
It wasn’t long before my laughter gave way to disbelief. That I made some money off this insane demolition is all great and good and stuff, but what the hell are we doing? New electronics, specialized furniture, means of transportation, stuff that undoubtedly had sentimental value for someone. Everything ended up in the demolition truck without anyone batting an eye, regardless of the financial/practical value. A state of disbelieve overpowered me while it all happened in front of my eyes. I raised thoughts and questions that no one wanted to hear. The chief was far too busy to talk about the meaning and nonsense of this work, besides I’d already blown it with him anyway. His colleagues were barely more talkative, though they said enough to form a picture. Surprise surprise: money and legislation were the main reasons for this way of working. Bringing everything to a warehouse or thrift store requires more man-hours, transport, administration and other types of costs. Not for the first time, I witnessed the hard clash between the monetary system and the ecological world up close. The same applies to its constant recurring outcome. Money, as usual, is where the shoe pinches. Without too much fuss, sacrifice or impractical hassle, sustainability is beautiful and necessary, and so on. As long as it’s convenient and affordable and noble and desirable etc. Simply apply fitting statistics in a one-sided story, then something that sounds convincing or trustworthy is created. Matter dealt with and done for, as they call it. Now let’s carry on business as usual.
It bothered me that truly everything got demolished. I was playing with the thought of taking some stuff home, but I would be fired for theft if I did. Leaving all the goodies on the street was out of the question either. To make a long story short: everything had to be destroyed due to financial-legal constructions and fixated thought-patterns. Okay, fine. I decided to ‘just’ do my job. I went home with mixed feelings after all the furniture had been completely trashed. There I watched a documentary about the far-reaching consequences of climate change, overpopulation, depleted resources and destroyed ecosystems. I took a therapeutic (and overly lengthy) shower in a somewhat depressed state, thinking about what I can do with this alarming information. Maybe I shouldn’t have participated in the destruction of functional stuff? Then I wouldn’t have a job anymore, but that’s fine, someone else could take my place as a loyal worker. At least I would have plenty of time to address this insane self-destruction. Conviction and perseverance would fuel my persistence for quite some years. All sorts of idealistic and activist thoughts popped up. And that was all that happened. Obediently I set my alarm clock at half-past six. I’m pretty sure there are other ways to achieve change. It’s hard to get groceries without money, and besides, this paid workout is far too much fun to walk away from. So, yeah, see ya. Let the next generations do something about these kinds of problems. We’re way too busy for that nowadays.
Everything will be alright as long as it’s good for the economy, that’s what life is all about
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A Normal Day 