DRONES...

I have one.  Well everyone in my apartment complex has one.  His name is Ty.  Which by the way is short for Tyler.  He is the new complex manager.  He is an idiot on so many levels that he reminds me of a layer cake.

He is approximately 25 years old and has sold his soul to the company.  Yes, he is a corporate drone.  He has secured his "future" while at the same time destroying his "present".  He is apparently happy and lord knows I use that term loosely.  He has eyes like Bambi.  I can't imagine what kind of bait the company used but he hit on it full bore and they reeled him in like a tuna.  How sad...

Now, as a caveat, I used to be corporate.  Very corporate.  Hell, I even had a corner office.  With my own secretary.  The whole nine yards.  I needed to be slapped.  But I never sold my soul to the company.  Did I gladly cash the paychecks?  Hell yes!!!  But I kept my soul safely tucked away at home in a drawer.  It allowed me to sleep at night.  The whole night.

This Ty guy is amazingly frightening.  When I go over to the office to put in a work order for a repair or drop off the rent check he spins on his chair like a top and starts typing away at the keyboard with a look like a deer in headlights on his face.  When he does that I automatically back away a few paces because I don't want to become infected.  Or assimilated.  I swear to god, the company lobotomized him.

He dresses like a hipster, wears odd pointy toe'd shoes and drives a white 2001 Hyundai Accent with a burnt out front headlight.  That alone just speaks volumes.

He is young enough to be my grandson.  I don't know who I want to hit with a brick first, him or me...