It was just a wasp
Epiphanies happen at the oddest times. At work most mornings I open up a small, remote building that houses some vending machines. No one works there, but in a given day 40-50 people pass through. The tiled floors are dirty, smudged with old spills made by thirsty people who believed they could walk and drink at the same time. The liquid mated with dust and formed something nastier than the sum of it's parts. The other morning I walked around a couple of such spills and made a mental note to get someone over here with a mop.
The walls are bare but show signs of past life; staples that once held holiday decorations, bright rectangles where pictures once protected the paint, and a plaque bearing the name of a former employee, and a former person now that I think of it, who managed this space when it was a walk-up lunch area. Sandra was old, and really only worked to support her parasite of a son, but sometimes I forget that I let her go when I shut down the walk-up feature. I shouldn't forget things like that. Not now. Another mental note.
I usually buy a soda and that morning was no different. Something with caffeine since I don't drink coffee. So as I turned to leave I noticed a large wasp moving along the floor. Funny I hadn't seen him as I approached, since he wasn't moving fast, or much at all. He kind of lurched forward on some of his legs, dragging the others and falling back to the ground with each burdened step. He didn't walk any straighter than he did gracefully, and while I watched he changed directions several times. I'm not sure he was trying to get somewhere in particular and failing or whether he was aimless. Well, no. I guess it looked like he had an aim, but it was to simply move. I think he thought or instinctively grasped that stopping was akin to dying, so he moved, painfully. Do wasps feel pain?
I watched him for several minutes, feeling like a voyeur peeping at his struggle. I thought about what I should do. What should I do?
I've recently taken over the leadership of the agency where I work. We provide services to people who have disabilities. Words matter, and I monitor my thoughts and language when referring to the people we serve. It's important to promote their personhood and to see them as dignified adults pursuing the same types of life goals we all pursue. We look at strengths and abilities first, and challenges only when we must. We try to avoid seeing people as struggling and we try not to stand apart viewing them. However hard we try though, we often see people's differences. We stand apart. I do those things. Most people we serve have some type of brain or neurological damage that impedes their self direction cognitively, and in some cases their mobility. It's hard not to see.
We are poorly funded and so our staff are poorly paid. We may be facing layoffs. The staff's personal issues are different, but most of what I said about the people we serve applies to the people providing most of the services. That morning especially I thought of how many of them are hanging on financially. I thought of how many struggle. Being poor is such hard work. I stood away from them and watched, and I saw difference. Damage. I pulled a staple from the wall and tossed it aside, and I ran my hand over Sandra's old name plate.
I turned to walk back to my office, and I thought of the wasp again. He was moving slower now, looking smaller. We spray for insects and I'm sure he was damaged neurologically from contact with the chemicals. He came in this building to escape the cold outside world, and.......
I thought of the rush of people who would soon poor into the building. If he lived for 30 minutes they'd be here and he'd surely be crushed then. Maybe I should end things for him right now, I thought. He might have been suffering, and I couldn't put him back in the cold. I looked at him there on the floor, small and wounded and waiting for his last end. I couldn't wait any longer, so I decided to give him the 30 minutes alone in the empty building. That was big of me. It wasn't so much a decision as a choice not to decide. Fvcking decisions.
I walked out of the building and didn't give the wasp another thought.
The walls are bare but show signs of past life; staples that once held holiday decorations, bright rectangles where pictures once protected the paint, and a plaque bearing the name of a former employee, and a former person now that I think of it, who managed this space when it was a walk-up lunch area. Sandra was old, and really only worked to support her parasite of a son, but sometimes I forget that I let her go when I shut down the walk-up feature. I shouldn't forget things like that. Not now. Another mental note.
I usually buy a soda and that morning was no different. Something with caffeine since I don't drink coffee. So as I turned to leave I noticed a large wasp moving along the floor. Funny I hadn't seen him as I approached, since he wasn't moving fast, or much at all. He kind of lurched forward on some of his legs, dragging the others and falling back to the ground with each burdened step. He didn't walk any straighter than he did gracefully, and while I watched he changed directions several times. I'm not sure he was trying to get somewhere in particular and failing or whether he was aimless. Well, no. I guess it looked like he had an aim, but it was to simply move. I think he thought or instinctively grasped that stopping was akin to dying, so he moved, painfully. Do wasps feel pain?
I watched him for several minutes, feeling like a voyeur peeping at his struggle. I thought about what I should do. What should I do?
I've recently taken over the leadership of the agency where I work. We provide services to people who have disabilities. Words matter, and I monitor my thoughts and language when referring to the people we serve. It's important to promote their personhood and to see them as dignified adults pursuing the same types of life goals we all pursue. We look at strengths and abilities first, and challenges only when we must. We try to avoid seeing people as struggling and we try not to stand apart viewing them. However hard we try though, we often see people's differences. We stand apart. I do those things. Most people we serve have some type of brain or neurological damage that impedes their self direction cognitively, and in some cases their mobility. It's hard not to see.
We are poorly funded and so our staff are poorly paid. We may be facing layoffs. The staff's personal issues are different, but most of what I said about the people we serve applies to the people providing most of the services. That morning especially I thought of how many of them are hanging on financially. I thought of how many struggle. Being poor is such hard work. I stood away from them and watched, and I saw difference. Damage. I pulled a staple from the wall and tossed it aside, and I ran my hand over Sandra's old name plate.
I turned to walk back to my office, and I thought of the wasp again. He was moving slower now, looking smaller. We spray for insects and I'm sure he was damaged neurologically from contact with the chemicals. He came in this building to escape the cold outside world, and.......
I thought of the rush of people who would soon poor into the building. If he lived for 30 minutes they'd be here and he'd surely be crushed then. Maybe I should end things for him right now, I thought. He might have been suffering, and I couldn't put him back in the cold. I looked at him there on the floor, small and wounded and waiting for his last end. I couldn't wait any longer, so I decided to give him the 30 minutes alone in the empty building. That was big of me. It wasn't so much a decision as a choice not to decide. Fvcking decisions.
I walked out of the building and didn't give the wasp another thought.
Total Comments 0
