A Major Mayor Problem

Once during winter, I was in our small town’s citizens’ advice bureau located in our townhall to renew my ID. I witnessed an entitled woman belittling a man for not cleaning up the mess she made in the foyer.

That ignorant woman had a temper tantrum like a toddler, demanding he get a mop and clean the slush she’d dragged in because she was too lazy to stomp her boots. She was screeching insults, asking how he dared to tell her to stamp the mud and slush off of her boots on the entrance like every decent being, and threatening to get him fired.

He alternated between trying to get a word in and just laughing in her face.

Meanwhile, her husband came in, took in the scene, and looked very embarrassed. With loud apologies to the man, he dragged her away, mumbling:

Husband: “Honey, are you nuts? He’s not the janitor; he’s the mayor!”

Admittedly, our mayor doesn’t really look the part — somehow, he always looks as if he’s about to sell you shoes — but it’s an extremely small town and he’s well known. He’s been voted into office again and again. There isn’t even an opponent. No one else wants the job.

That means that during his campaign the whole town is plastered with his face and his face only. Even I know who he is, and I don’t care much for politics. Mostly everyone knows him because he usually sells bratwurst during our yearly community pool fundraiser. I have no idea how that woman could get the idea he was the janitor!