The "Dumb" Working Class

Donald Trump is not my candidate. I actually liked him on The Apprentice. He seemed serious, sensible, and savvy (the three "S's). Then he decided to run for president and opened his yap. It's not so much his bluster that offends me; it's that I've never been able to discern his "plan", if he has one, which I suspect he doesn't. But trust him, his plan will be huge, and it'll Make America Great Again. I don't have a lot of faith in candidates who bathe themselves in opaqueness. I'm not a Democrat.

But if Donald Trump turns out to be our nominee, I will vote for him. I'm not going to whine and throw a tantrum -- "I'll just stay home then!" Like some conservatives did with Mitt Romney, and in the midst of their sulk, handed the election to The Big O.

Even though I'm not a Trump-ite (I sort of like Trump-et -- I think I will coin that. C'mon, don't steal that from me and make tons of money or I will hunt you down and bitch-slap you, because I am poor and I could really use the bucks! Note to self: Copyright "Trump-et"); even though he's not my guy, (and I fully understand there is a woman running for president on the GOP side. "My guy" is just an idiom. Don't get all micro-aggressive on me!), I defend anybody's right to support him, even if they're just dumb working class people. People I know and like support Trump.

I was reading a letter to the editor in the Wall Street Journal the other day (yes, I actually know how to read) and the guy's remarks dripped with condescension regarding the "dumb" working class people who support Trump. We educated people, I'll have you, don't ascribe to the notion that Donald Trump would encapsulate an ideal candidate for high office. It's simply the dregs of society, the non-educated masses, who continue to prop up this dreadful campaign. Shouldn't there be a financial qualifier for actually being allowed to vote? In the name of Dow Jones, our Creator? Now, Jeeves, go fetch me a dry martini!

Here's the thing: I've had an assortment of jobs in my life. I've been a receptionist, I've been a motel maid, I've been a catalog store clerk, a hospital ward secretary, a medical claims examiner, a manager overseeing one hundred and fifty employees, an educator.  The secret is this: There are assholes in every profession. Some may be highly educated assholes, but nevertheless. "Asshole" is universal.

Don't even begin to tell me how much smarter you are than me. When I was promoted to manager in 1991 against my wishes, because the new project I was assigned to oversee looked to be a total morass and was beneath my abilities; when all the other supervisory staff clucked their tongues in pity at my awful luck, then when I garnered a corner office, tramped past with their noses in the air, envy seeping through their pores; even then I was no smarter than I was when I was punching buttons on a switchboard and sorting mail into little baskets. Nor when I was swishing my hand through a dirty toilet bowl.  In fact, I might have been dumber, because my brain was swelling with spreadsheets and performance reviews and strategic planning.

In 1974, when I was married, if I wanted a home that belonged to me, guess what choice was available. A mobile home! You know -- trailer trash. Funny, I didn't think of myself as "trash"; I just thought I was "poor". I didn't go to college because I had no aspirations to become anything in particular, except a mother. I graduated from high school in 1973. Then, every girl's goal was to get married and start a family. Crazy; quaint in its obsequiousness. Unfortunately, even though I became a mom, those pesky bills still had to be paid, so I settled into an array of part-time jobs. I took what there was. And, strangely, I was proud of every one of them. I wouldn't give any of them back. Every single one of those jobs shaped me in one way or another.

So, I resent the moneyed-class highballs whining that I'm too stupid to be allowed to vote. You know, Ronald Reagan didn't pander to working class people in order to get his name punched on a card. Reagan would be completely comfortable sitting at a mobile home kitchen table, sharing a beer with a guy who'd just torn off his stained deli clerk apron. Reagan wouldn't even notice, much less sneer at, the fake wood paneling that covered the walls. Ronald Reagan wasn't an asshole.

If the working class has elevated Donald Trump as their champion, I'm good. Good to go.  How dumb are they, really? They know how to spot terrorism at least; unlike someone who shall remain nameless, who is supposedly the smartest man in the history of the world.

I'm not abandoning "my guy", but I almost want to become a Trump-et © just to piss off the supercilious blowhards who forget we are the ones who fuel the world.

We're here. Can't silence us. Or kill us.