I’m going through some interesting growing pains here at The Salt Mill, Internet. Not in a bad way, but with a promotion comes new responsibilities and a different set of rules. I’m no longer the lackey fetching coffee and brown M&M’s. I’m still very much a lackey in some sense, but not the very, very bottom lackey. (I’m also not John Lackey the Pitcher or PFC. Leckie from the Pacific.) I prefer to think of myself as “Lord of the Lackeys.”

(“You’ve come a long way, kid! Treat yourself to some rust-proofing.”)

Once upon a time when I was a young Lackey Blogs, if someone said jump, I asked how high. If a person of particular importance were looking for something in the kitchen or supply closet, I would find that item immediately, even if it involved a trip to the store. That’s the way it works. The things I’ve done in the salt business are rivaled only by the absurdity of the next request. One time I had to try and trap a raccoon. Another time I had to model SWAT team gear. It keeps things interesting, but I don’t shine shoes no more. 

(They used to call me Spit-shine Tucker. Now I’m all dressed up and doing the town.)

Today I found myself in the kitchen looking for raisins. One of the lackeys was nearby and noticed me scrambling through cabinets. I muttered something like, “Oh, there aren’t any raisins,” purely out of observation since I didn’t really care and was happy with honey roasted peanuts and a few twizzlers. The Lackey was immediately on the case. 

“There’s (sic) no raisins? I can get some raisins.” 

I told him that it wasn’t a big deal, but he insisted. Trying to get ahead and climb that ladder, I suppose. I guess nobody told him that there are only two ways to advance in the Salt Industry: have a cousin who’s more successful than you; or blackmail. Either way, he was not going to be deterred from solving the raisin situation, and off he went. 

This made me feel bad. I knew what he was doing, because up until a month ago, I would have been doing the same thing. I just felt like he was barking up the wrong tree. I may assign him tasks throughout the day, and be in charge of his duties, but I am in NO WAY an authority figure capable of hiring, firing, promoting, or giving raises. I can’t even send him home early. Hmm. Maybe I’m not the “Lord of the Lackeys.”

(But I’m still done trying to trap raccoons.)

An hour later, the lackey appeared in front of my desk, proudly brandishing a box of raisins. I thanked him profusely then quietly cursed under my breath, because now I’ve gotta eat all of these goddamned raisins. Hey, the kid’s trying, except for when he isn’t. Shortly after the raisins arrived, I found out that what he should have been doing instead of this wild (and independent) trip for raisins was distributing our new Schedule. Kind of an important thing that I got yelled at about.

So now I sit here, eating rasins that somebody below me dropped everything at hand to insure I had while thinking about the person above me, who reminded me that I really haven’t advanced forward at all.

What a business.

End of line.