I am sorry that this guy who jumped out of an airplane is getting a lot of press right now. I really am.  I am not dismayed because of the fact that the revelry of his actions makes our culture look like bumbling fools. Not at all. I am not upset over the fact that the glorification of unnecessary and flamboyant overreactions is commonplace in our society.  Not in the least.  There reason why I am upset, and blazingly so, is that the recent actions by this Jet Blue employee—I refuse to even mention his name—is just another obnoxious outburst in a long line of “service” personnel going nuts.  The problem is that it should be the rest of us going off, not the flight attendants of the world.  

How many times have you encountered this scenario: you are in line at the post office.  It is the middle of the day.  Nobody should be there—everyone should be working—but yet there is a line 40-people-long.  It perplexes you.  Could it be the week before Christmas?  Is Mothers’ Day around the corner?  You remember it is August, and nothing really needs to be mailed for another 4 months.  You scan the room. There are ample kiosks from which any number of people could be getting service.  Strangely, all but one—or on a banner day, two—of the kiosks are empty.  The one that is staffed is occupied by the most foul-dispositioned, ungrateful, snarling postal employee this side of the planet.  Your fellow line-standers appear to be aging before your very eyes as this monster plods along, glaring and sighing with each request as if every query had to do with the postal worker volunteering a kidney for transplant.  After what seems like eternity, you are at the front of the line and have your fill of abuse.  

Sound familiar?  I know it is for me, because it is the same scenario each time I set foot in a post office.  And yet, someone going nuts at work is called “going postal,” fashioned after a postal worker who evidently couldn't handle the strain of not working very hard, and being unavailable for large parts of the day.  If the people at my local post office are that distressed from what they are doing, they could never function in everyday life without their heads blowing up.  The kid at 7-11 does more and faster work that every one of the people I have to interface with at the P.O. Postal workers have about as much right to “go postal” as I do entering a triathlon; and with my weight and cholesterol, exercise is the last thing I want to think about.  Too painful.  Either the post office finds the most unmotivated and surliest people they can, or there is something very wrong with the economy of attitude in this country.

Allow me to put forth exhibit B: Border Agents at the US-Canadian Border.  I know these folks have a tough job, and they are doing their best to keep us safe, and I applaud that. I really do. But would it kill you to have a shred of personality or grace while you do it?  Recently I had to get out of my car at the border and go into the processing room to pay some taxes on all of my wonderful Canadian souvenirs (have you tried Kokanee? It’s delicious!), pretty standard.  What wasn't standard was that I was the only person waiting to do anything inside the processing room.  There were at least 8 agents milling around.  After 10 minutes of standing there, I approached one of them.  He shot me a death stare that would have made Darth Vader jealous.  “Excuse me sir,” I began. “I was wondering if…”

“GO SIT DOWN!” Hand on gun. Laser beams for eyes.  Canadian face ready to pop.  I was instructed by the border agent I was talking to that if I wanted to be helped, a border agent would be around to see me.  The other 7 border agents looked on and nodded in agreement. I decided not to push my luck. 45 minutes later, one of the original 8 got bored with the conversation she was having and sauntered over to help me with my problem.  I said I needed to pay taxes on gooda.  The next 20 minutes were spent by three border agents looking for a binder that told how much the taxes were for different items.  Darn those Canadian 3-ring binders, so efficient and contemporary, yet so elusive!  I eventually paid my $3 in taxes and left behind an hour and a half of glares and awkwardness.  How do people working at “The Peach Arch” stay so pissed off all the time?  They must have part time jobs at the post office.

It is ironic that the third, and maybe one of the most undeserving of a freak-out, are all airport and airline employees.  From top to bottom, ticketing to security, gate agents to flight attendants, airline personnel are some of the rudest, most snobby people in the biz.  That’s what makes this yahoo that jumped out of the plane such a joke.  From what I know, he got fed up with a customer and freaked out.  What about the rest of us customers who are fed up, right up to our freaking eyeballs, by the time we even board the plane?  We have gone to ticketing, been treated like children, gone through security, been treated like criminals, gone to the gate, been treated like idiots, and finally crammed into a shoe box for hours on end.  Flight attendants stroll through security, stroll up to the gate, shoot the shit, then do their eight hours of work passing out drinks.  Then they catch a nap in Miami, and its back to Seattle for three days waiting to go back to work.  I am sorry if I don't think that the life of a stewardess or steward is all that daunting.  And this joker on the Jet Blue flight, being touted as a folk hero for acting just like the rest of his co-workers at the airport, an over-coddled, power-rich snob getting fed up with someone paying $350 to go from Milwaukee to Chicago.  Shame on us, America.  Heroes are people who do their shitty jobs with a smile on their face, as if having a job were the work of God parting the skies and handing the W-2 directly to them.

I am not the world’s best employee.  Not by any means.  I don't like what I do most of the time.  But I have enough respect for people to do my best not to let my disdain for my job pour over onto them.  And if I am having a terrible day, I don't bring my guns to work as a matter of principle.  So take note, those of you in the service industry.  Whether you are working for the USPS, the FAA or the DMV, it is your duty to get your head out of your ass and do your job right. And may no one in these fine United States ever take notice of your bratty complaints about your cushy jobs ever again.

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