Wednesday, November 18, 2009

I don’t need to pretend I’m better than everyone, because I already am

Social Worker
Responsibilities include psycho-social assessments, individual and group counseling, documentation, outreach and marketing for the center. Bilingual in Spanish preferred.

Cry me a river, world. Everyone’s lives have been just SO rough and unfair, there’s a whole sector of the economy dedicated to listening to self-destructive weak whiners bitch and moan. Boo hoo, I sell my body for crack. Poor me. Boo hoo, my husband beats me daily. Please help me.

Seriously people, try finding a REAL problem, like living in your parents’ basement. I’ve had it worse than nearly everyone, and you don’t see me complaining to the masses, do you?

Considering I’m in no need of a codependent entourage of basket cases, being a social worker is definitely not for me. I don’t understand why anyone wants to dedicate their lives to helping people in general. There’s no money or advancement in that, hence no satisfaction. I think people only do it so they can hold a perceived moral high ground that only exists in their head.

For instance, let’s talk about Gerald the social worker. Gerald likes to go to parties and prance around with a high-and-mighty prick grin, so that when I tell him about my new Lexus he can respond by bragging about how many worthless space-fillers he’s “saved” from society’s underground. I’ll then leave the party, only to see one of Gerald’s patients, Crapo, stealing my Lexus. Of course, Crapo is running on a handle of Jim Beam and some tainted heroin, so he crashes the Lexus, throws some of his own blood at me and then takes off running. The next day, Crapo shows up for group counseling and complains to Gerald about how he was in a car crash and life just can’t get worse. Gerald comforts Crapo, gives him a handjob and then leaves to brag about it at a different party I cannot make because my ride is trashed and my suit is covered in Crapo’s blood.

So really, what’s so just and noble about that?

Verdict: Sorry, I’ll PASS.