I got a fortune cookie a month or so ago and I’ve had the fortune sitting on my desk since then.
It says, “Service is the rent we pay for the privilege of living on this planet.”
Now, is that a perfect fortune for me, or what?
I like service and I appreciate it. I also like that service has a sort of intimacy about it.
Serving well requires knowing the person you are serving, their likes and dislikes, what they do and do not like.
Serving haphazardly can be more annoying than anything else.
For instance, I don’t drink coffee.
I won’t eat food that has a mocha flavor to it.
I dislike it pretty intensely, to a point that even the smell of it, particularly if it’s strong, will make me a little ill.
So, I remember being at a formal Leather Dinner years back and one of my slaves at the time went with me and was serving.
I was pretty annoyed when he offered me coffee.
Um, no. I’m sorry, have we never met before?
What that says is, I haven’t paid enough attention to know what you like, or don’t, what you prefer, or don’t. My focus has been on me, not on you.
Service is rent.
I find that it is also satisfying in ways that little else is. Serving others feed ourselves, I think, too.
I prefer to work when I go to an event, for instance. Now, it’s true, I want to do what I want to do. By that, I mean I don’t want to be a dungeon monitor, for instance, because I dislike doing it.
I am a dominant, after all. I like to do what I like to do, but it’s also true that I would rather do that which I am better-suited for, like presenting or running event. But just sitting there, not doing anything, makes me feel a little lost.
I should be paying rent.