A Day in the Life of Sachi

First, I would like to clarify that Pirate Dude was most certainly NOT attractive. He was scary, staring at me with his one good eye…. You can’t just randomly say “Aaargh!” to people! It’s not allowed in polite society.

Now, I would like to do something that I don’t often do on this blog. I’m going to get semi-political. Before y’all switch off and close the window, hear me out. I’m not going to preach my politics to you. I’m just going to discuss something about what it means to be a public servant and why I’ve chosen this for now.

The founding fathers of the county came over on the Oregon trail between about 1890 and 1910. My family was a part of that group. Back then, when the area was a new settlement, the founders had a very large interest in how their local government would be run. Those families all had a finger in the pie. I am only the 4th generation in this area. Most of my generation moved away, at least temporarily, like I did. There have been many more families who have moved to the area in the last 50 or so years that came here as the result of the military influence in the area. Many have moved up from California (which is only slightly annoying).

I’ve come to the realization that my values are different than most since I am only 3 generations removed from the area’s frontier days. My family taught me to care about what happens to the land, the people, the roads, the lakes – I learned how important it is to have local government. Unlike many other government offices, my local government is helpful and careful and thoughtful (or they at least genuinely try to be). I learned my work ethic from this place and that carried over to a very fast-paced climb up the corporate ladder in my last job. My time working for the county as a teenager taught me to work hard and that good things come to those who fight for what is right.

Note that this is also how I gained my over-developed sense of justice.

As per usual, I’ve drawn this out to the point of rambling.

My point is that I chose to go back to the county because I think that we can do better. With all the political crap that we deal with on a daily basis, I want public service to go back to what it was originally intended to do; provide a service to the tax payers. In my small circle of the world, local government still does this.

We can do better than Bill and/or Hillary Clinton, George Bush, Dick Cheney, John Kerry and the like. With all the brilliant minds in this country, why aren’t any interested in social service? Because we tax the hell out of everyone, no one feels like they should do anything to contribute to the public arena. After all, they’re already giving their hard-earned money, right? They pay taxes so why should they have to give their sweat too?

I’m tired of waiting for something better so I signed on to do what I can, one individual.

Here’s a news flash. I pay taxes. That means that I pay my own salary. How much does that suck?

We can do better. I can do better. I took the job because I hope that, some day, someone at a slightly higher level of government can look at a county that isn’t bankrupt, morally or financially, and ask themselves what they are doing that is so different from what we are doing. On that day, I hope they find the answer.

For me, the answer is that I care about what happens to this place that I call “home”.

True story. I couldn’t make these things up if I tried.

Yesterday, I was covering the front desk while a gal took a break. I was in the middle of doing random stuff when a guy hurriedly walked up to my desk and said something. I’m not entirely sure what he said because I was preoccupied but, most customers are just lost and asking me for either room 106 or room 274. I knew that he didn’t say 274 so I looked up at him to beg his pardon.

He was a guy around 25 years of age wearing an eye patch over his left eye. He wore a fleece beanie and shorts. He had what appeared to be a tattoo on his neck.

Me: I’m sorry? Did you say Room 106?

Guy: Aarrrrgh!

Me: *blink, blink* Um… *blink* OK. Well, you go back around that corner and there will be large double-doors on your left and they’ll be open.

Guy: Aarrrrgh! Thank you, m’lady. *walks off doing an excellent Pop-eye strut*

Seriously. I couldn’t make this up if I tried. Were I still in Los Angeles, this wouldn’t have surprised me at all. But given the size of the town, the wacko-to-normal-person-in-public ratio is greatly diminished.

I will now randomly say “Aaarrrrgh!” at awkward times. So now, everyone at the office (and outside the office) is making wench jokes, calling me “m’lady” and saying “aaaargh!”.

We suspect that the tatoo on his neck was a parrot.