In the past week, two big headlines stirred the hearts of a lot of people. But not in a good way. In a bitter and judgmental way. I'm talking about the United Airlines CEO response to accusations of violating the civil rights of one airline passenger and the Sean Spicer flub where he said Hitler didn't use chemical weapons on his people.
I'm sure everyone's Facebook feed was chock full of countless comments about these incidents. And, it seems, the general consensus appears to favor a highly critical stance against both
I'm not defending what they said or their actions after being attacked by the media in general. But I just want to point out what seems to be a growing trend among, really, all of us. And it points to an emergence of a Culture of Blame.
Remember a few months ago when I spoke of this invasive attitude that looms over my workplace like an evil and malevolent smog? Well I see now it's just a microcosm of a greater trend that's enveloped the nation...if not the world.
The hyper-scrutiny of pitchfork and torch bearers to root out the sinister Frankenstein monster among them has made for a natural phenomenon to inevitably occur in the statements and actions of the victims of their ire. Flop sweat. Like an actor who gets so nervous on stage in front of an intimidating audience that they break out in a visibly glossy, and unfortunately, uncontrollable flop sweat, which, in turn, makes the actor MORE nervous since he/she knows the crowd can see their fear and makes them even MORE likely to make the error they're praying they don't make like fuck up or forget lines, freeze, or, probably worse of all, run off stage.
I think this is what happened in the case of both gentlemen spoken of above. And, frankly, I feel sorry for them. The mistakes they made were, in my opinion, only made because there was such intense negative attitude directed toward them that they simply got flop sweat and fumbled it. Then the flop sweat vultures pounced. And never let up.
I've had my own experience with flop sweat vultures this week and let me tell you, it ain't fun. I armed myself each day with an attitude that I'd best the enemies I apparently have in droves at work and I'd shine triumphantly above it all. But the vultures don't just wait for you to present their carcass to them, they hasten your death in any way they can.
Suffice it to say, I haven't committed any transgression as bad as the United CEO or the president's press secretary, but I feel I gushed a couple of gallons of flop sweat out of my pores the past few days because I'm trying too fuckin' hard to be a good boy and subsequently made a few boneheaded screw-ups.
We'll see if these fuck-ups come to any fruition as the week bears down on me. This anxiety and stress is freakin' NOT what I bargained for from this place.
These fucking flop sweat vultures are fierce scavengers and I think before long they're gonna try to pick every speck of flesh from every fuckin' one of my old, brittle bones.