Boots

A week or so ago a man named Crown Prince Sultan bin Abdul-Aziz Al Saud died at an undisclosed location, most likely of colon cancer, and also most likely at a hospital in New York. His age was simply put as, “in his eighties.” His death made news because this man was heir to the throne of Saudi Arabia. He was the half-brother of the current ruler, King Abdullah. Now a new heir will need to be chosen by a group that King Abdullah created as part of his reforms called the Allegiance Council. Although I don’t know how much reformation this king can claim since this group is made up of his brothers, half-brothers, and nephews. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

Picking a leader by birthright is as foreign and abhorrent to me as breathing ammonia or laughing during an Adam Sandler movie, so I couldn’t care less which of these disgustingly wealthy, ancient men is next to occupy that throne. In fact as I read the article of this man’s death, words like prince, heir, throne, crown, royal family, and kingdom jumped out at me as archaic and downright alien. But it got me thinking. How can people live without objection in a place where their next leader is chosen by their current one? I know that the religious leaders over there are in cahoots with the family Saud - one side washing the other side’s hands, and away their sins - but I find I have little respect for people who sit by at let someone run things, collect so much money they live in palaces and light their cigars with gold bars, because some guy says God wants them in charge. Then I realized, their not that much different than you and me.

Here we don’t have kings of course. But we do let people ascend to leadership of us simply because of who they are related to; either by blood or acquaintance. In Saudi Arabia it’s called a monarchy, over here its called cronyism. Actually ascend not a good word to use because it suggests they moved upward when I reality they just did a lateral.

Where I used to work, the VP of Sales and Marketing was a friend of the president of the corporation, that president being the grandson of the founder. See the similarity to those men in Riyadh? In the time I was working there the Sales and Marketing VP brought in a friend to run the Fresno office, another to run the IT department whose job later change to something like Manager of Advanced Services, whatever the hell that means, and a third guy who once tried to have me written up for failing to renew a web domain by faking an e-mail message. It was a good thing he was so inept with computers, so I could prove he never sent the message and exonerate myself. Unfortunately my boss was the IT Manager and his buddy, so my exposure of his weak and fraudulent attack when nowhere. Just before I left the Sales and Marketing VP’s wife started working there and yet another friend came onboard with an equally undecipherable title as the Advanced Services guy. While the one pal was IT Manager he took so many days off we started a spreadsheet to track them. It ended up being 62 days in one year, that’s a day a week plus 10 more. The man running the Fresno office once replied to a computer tech who asked him a question, “Don’t address me.” They might as well have just put on crowns and told us to eat cake.

I understand getting a job through a friend, and I wish I had one who could get me employment, but to be so blatantly lazy or aloof?

Today, Sunday, I took a morning walk. As I passed a bus stop around the corner I saw a pair of work boots neatly tucked under the bench. I snapped a photo with my cell phone. I envisioned some blue collar guy who might have changed out of his work clothes, including foot ware, for his commute home. Maybe he wanted to travel in clean clothes, or maybe it’s a requirement of his job. His coveralls perhaps in a grocery bag, maybe even a tool bag at one knee. Perhaps in his excitement about having the next two days off he neglected to bring his boots on the bus when it pulled up. I hope he notices before Monday morning so he can either replace them, or hunt them down. I’d hate to think he would have to take a day off, and/or lose pay, so he can replace those boots.

I doubt if either the cronies at my former workplace or the brothers, half-brothers, or nephews of the king of Saudi Arabia ever forgot their work boots under a bus stop bench. I doubt if the cronies ever rode a bus, if anyone in that royal family could identify either a bus stop or a bus, or if anyone from either group ever wore anything that could remotely be described as “work” boots.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe those people at my last place of employment are hardworking and intelligent. Maybe the men, it will always be men, who run Saudi Arabia are the best qualified to run that country. Maybe those boots were left by the president of a local company who rides the bus as an example to his employees and he has dozens of other pairs in his humble closet at home. Maybe, but I doubt it.