My Dear Elite - by Lennora Esi

​My dear elite,

What's up? How's it going ? How's life up there?
Oh, I'm sorry … it's been a while, I know. It's me … your old acquaintance … the lower class.

I don't mean to bother you, I know you have WAY more important things to do. I just have to get this off my cheast.
I've been thinking … you know … 'cause we've been drifting further and further apart and all.
So, let's be frank here!
You are important for society. You represent everything that our time reveres: progress, innovation, intelligence …
Me, on the other hand, I simply stand in the way, like a kind of useless proxy; and when I do my job, if I at all have one, I never quite finish it … satisfactorily.
I ask for a tip for cleaning public bathrooms, adding to an already excessive income for this kind of work. And public transportation, which you use as an environmentally aware citizen, well, I just can't seem to get it to function in a time-efficient manner. And every time you allow me to dispose of your trash, I stink up your whole, otherwise, so freshly scented, street.

It's not you, it's me! I am holding you back from fulfilling your potential!

Which is why I have made a decision.
I'm leaving you. I'm clearing the way, so you can form a new society – where only people like you will live. A world of decency and a world of class!
Just imagine … a day in the life of a man of your station, without … me.

His alarm rings at six a.m. sharp. Yawning, he wipes the sleep from his eyes, stretches with a smile on his face. A glorious new day has begun.
Time for his morning routine: Exercises, followed by a hot shower, a cup of coffee and the online morning paper. Cheerfully, he gets ready to make his way to his private practice.
Ah! Blue skies, rays of sunshine, seems like it's going to be a lovely day - so he decides to take his bike to work. Halfway there, he thanks his mind for its amazing good judgement. Had he been sitting in his car, he would have missed all the beautiful melodies of the morning - birds chirping, the winds of the east, rustling through the trees, the chorus of horns … horns? He stops short in bewilderment! Rush hour i worse than usual, obstructing doctors, lawyers and other academics on their way. The streets are packed with Mercedes' and BMWs, honking and badgering each other, each one trying to pass the other.
Half of the drivers probably used to take public transportation to work. But thank goodness, that's done with - all those Bus, Train and Subway drivers whose intellectual capacities went no further than their routes they were given to drive.
After a few minutes he reaches his office. He opens the door, greets the empty chair where his receptionist used to sit and heads straight for the treatment room. The clock has barely struck 9 a.m. when it all begins: the telephone won't stop ringing and the waiting room is drenched with people. He spends his whole morning running from the telephone, to the waiting room, to the treament room, to the computer. His patients shake their heads in disbelief. This place is very poorly organized!
Finally … lunch brake!
Completely exhausted he leans back in his chair and looks outside to the street through the milky window. Wouldn't it be wonderful to see a piece of sky? Instead, dark spots and dried stains of rain dance upon the glass. Where is the cleaning lady when you need her? Oh yeah, that's right! Never mind, she only spoke spanish anyway. He's just going to live with this filthy window … though there is the option of cleaning it himself. But really … what would that look like?
He decides to close the practice for the rest of the day, take his car, drive out to the countryside and … wait … no, that might not be such a good idea. The streets outside of the city are filled with potholes as of late and if something happens to his car he won't be able to bring it to a garage. He scratches his head, contemplating.
Of course! There are still pilots! He will book a one-hour flight and be back by the evening. He tries to call a cab with his I-phone … this number is no longer in service … alright, the bike it is! But it will take him two hours to get to the airport by bike and, by the way … do they still have security at all?
He remembers his holiday at the hotel last week. After a 3-mile hike, he finally arrived at the hotel. Wonderful! No annoying bellman, taking his luggage away and no nerv-wracking receptionist assigning him a room. He could choose whichever key he wanted! After examining the broom closet, basement and supply room, he decided to take a suite on the 11th floor. Then, after a viggorous march of stairclimbing (apparently the elevator had broken down a few weeks before), he finally stood in his gigantic room. He first made himself comfortable on the … 6-months-old bed linen, before lunging at the … empty minibar. What a trip that had been …
Okay. He will just go to a nice restaurant and read his book. He decides to walk, passes by streets flooded with garbage bags and sits down in a pretty restaurant. After waiting for half an hour and no menu or meal magically appearing in front of him, he makes himself get up and, due to his complaining stomach, go to the kitchen and order the food himself, directly. Unfortuately, not one of those potbellied-cook living souls can be found, near or far.
Dissapointed, he leaves the restaurant.
He goes into a shop. Since cashiers ceased to exist, everybody could just take what they wanted … Fabulous! … now fresh fruits are rotting in their baskets, maggots bustle in the fridges and the shelves are empty. Thank God for Online Shopping. But how will the products be delivered to his house without mail and delivery men? Oh yes of course! Drones! Hopefully they still have enough in stock!
He stuffs a few cans in his pocket and rides home.
At the door, he's greeted by an incomprehensible, croaking sound from his dement mother, mixed with screeches from his children.
Somewhat irritated due to these altered circumstances, he goes to bed. But before closing his eyes, a slight smile flashes over his face. Tomorrow, he tells himself, tomorrow everything will look different.

So, dear elite? What do you think?

I won't be asking for money at public bathrooms anymore, you will have to clean up your predecessor's excrements yourself. My public transportation will never run late again ... it won't run at all. And instead of stinking up your street every week, you will have to smell the stink of your garbage ... every day.

I know you take me for granted! I know you think I'm uneducated, lazy and unskilled. And I know you give no credit to the every day, simple things in life. But am I really that simple?

Didn't you have a saying: A chain is only as strong as its weakest link? So, what? Are you just trying to sell slogans you, in truth, do not fundamentally understand?! Or are you scared because you know very well, you live that fancy lifestyle thanks to me?! Your architects can't build their houses without my workers. Your managers can't run their businesses without my employees. Your engineers can't bring a single car on the market without my assemblymen. Even your students can't pursue their happiness without my taxpayers.

It might be time to reconsider your mindset and attitute towards me! You don't have the right to trample over me like a kid in his sandbox, just because of your select genetic lineage or privileges of birth.

I would really like to know, if you truly are society's masterpiece, why do you constantly feel the need to demonstratively flaunt your superiority … over me