Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Day Three-Ninety-Two: Workplace blues

Today was the first day in a long time where somebody didn't ask me to do something.

I got up with everyone else at daybreak, feeling rather grumpy at the prospect of helping around town. I was sore, I was tired, I was distracted - but I was, and still am, the mayor. It's my duty to help out my constituents however I can. I'd been out of touch a few days, so I started off by asking Harold what was on the itinerary. He had a full listing of things:

- Work on the wall
- Hammer out more weapons
- Harvest the last of the winterweed before the snows melt
- Start building the base of a mill for grinding grain with Libby's up-and-coming water wheel
- Work on the water wheel
- Assist the newly-arrived Weekendists with finding a source of rock for their new church (yes, I forgot to mention, a bundle of them showed up Friday, looking to settle down here - our resident member of the sect has already taken control of 'em, I've heard)
- Normal daily chores

In short, lotsa stuff. I asked Harold where I would be needed most.

"Er…" He looked the list over a few times, comparing it to the workers trudging out of the pub under my dad's watchful eye. "Hm. I think all of these jobs are handled, actually. A lot of new workers have been showing up, almost to excess."

"Huh." I tapped my chin. "There're no shortfalls in labour anywhere?"

"Not… really…"

"Huh. Well, I mean, I could still HELP, right…? Like, harvesting… could help there…"

Harold fidgeted. He, along with everyone else, knew quite well that I was bad at safely pulling winterweed out of the ground. I have a tendency to wreck more plants than I successfully cultivate.

"Okay, well, how 'bout the Weekendists? I should help 'em out. They're newcomers 'n all."

"They'll… probably be gone already. I sent them with a few hunters. Won't be back for most of the day. Sorry."

"Oh." Pause. "Isn't there anything I can do?"

Casting his eyes about, Harold eventually settled on a shovel propped near the door to the pub. He grabbed it and handed it to me. "You could clear some of the roads? The horses have trouble in the snow…"

Irked, I took the shovel. Then the irrational desire to bop Harold on the head with it filled my brain, and it slipped out of my hand. "No, apparently I can't."

It's strange. When we began building Pubton, I prayed for the day it would become self-sustaining. People wouldn't need to look to me for everything! Arguments would fall apart in favour of getting shit done! Progress! In short, less work for me! That was a glorious, secret desire of mine, selfish though it sounds… and now it's happened. People find their own work, all directed at the betterment of the community, and Pubton continues to grow. Hell, even the constant battles between the peasants and the nobles have settled down significantly, with both sides sharing the bulk of the work.

And you know what? It kinda sucks.

I was a lazy guard in my former life. I avoided work. Work was a sucky thing you did at a job, and jobs are lame. Being mayor, though… that's a career. As much as I've bitched about it in the past, I liked to feel needed by people. I enjoyed helping out, even if I sucked at farming and building and stuff. I was leader of a community, I made decisions that swayed the community, hell, I founded the community.

And now it's not mine anymore. It belongs to everyone else. I'm just a figurehead. It's like King Gok said, all those months ago: "Ye just need to be a symbol for yer people. They'll do all the hard stuff." Sure, he was talkin' about me being a king at the time, but it still seems to apply. Everyone else does the hard stuff, all the working and legislating and decision-making… I'm just the symbol.

It's boring being the symbol. Real boring.

I realize now that it kinda snuck up on me over time, as well. Didn't just happen today. I've been talking less and less about work stuff over the past few months because I've had less of it to do. Sure, I've had to deal with a bunch of OTHER crap that dominated my time, but my absences haven't mucked with the construction of the community much. Hell, in some cases my not helping out probably made certain jobs easier.

Behold. I am Dragomir, mayor of Pubton. I am superfluous. I play board games with a prisoner and doodle all day. What a boring job.


Dragomir the Mayor


  1. Sounds like my kinda work. I'll do it for ya, Dragomayor.

    Organ-Monkey for mayor 2013, Spoony Bard Assistant for vice-mayor 2013!

    1. That flag in today's pic, just inspires Patriotism. So all rise for the Pubton National Anthem (Which...I think? I have to state is a poorly ripped off version/parody of the song O'Canada. Just for legal reasons, in-case the government decides to send a Mountie/Beaver task-force to kick/chew down my door.):

      O' Pubton!
      Our Home and Unrelated Land!
      True Patriot Love in All thy Pubtonians Command.
      With a Floppy Hat, Our Mayor Leads
      The True Pub Strong and Free!

      From Far and Wide,
      O'Pubton, We Stand on Guard for Thee.
      Dragomir Keeps Our Lands Jeffrey Free!
      O'Pubton, We Stand on Guard for Thee.
      O'Pubton, We'll Tell "Screw Off!" To Jeffrey! (If he's still alive)

    2. Please. My government is too busy tossing crumpled paper balls into trash cans across the room to do anything valuable with their time.

      And the Mounties are either dancing with horses, or... dancing with horses.

      Very important stuff.

    3. Yes, and we can't forget about the VERY important research they are doing. Such as the recent study of "Can Maple Syrup replace gasoline?". Which of course was a obvious failure, yet delicious at the same time.