“There is management, and there are those of us who do the work… they are the Stained Arrangers, and we are the Shiney Doers.“

This is how Zach O’Reilly viewed life. “The stained arrangers are the power structure, mainly white men and the women they are sleeping with, who makes up the management team and the ones who do the actual work are the mainly non-white labour’s force and that is where I really screw them up; being white and being in the labour’s force and part of the Shiney Doers.”

He was tall and thin, about 30, with short black hair and blue eyes. He pointed to the name tag embroidered on his dark blue polyester shirt. “When they gave me this uniform, I asked why. Why do I need to have my name on my shirt? ‘So the tenants know who they are talking to.’ Was the answer. To wit, I replied, ‘And you don’t think I have the abilities to introduce myself?’ At this point, the conversation ground to a halt…

He was explaining to us how he lost his job, and he seemed extremely proud that he had.

“You see.” He said and continued: “There are 7 types of workers. There are those that can, and there are those that can’t. There are those that do, and there are those that don’t. There are those that will, and there are those that won’t. And there are those who don’t give a fuck… I am a danger to those in charge; the Stained Arrangers… I look like them. I can, will, and I do, do the work. And I don’t give a fuck for their pretentiousness.

Zach took off his name labeled shirt and replaced it one less intrusive.

“Ah… now that feels better.” Zach smiled and walked away… somewhere.