Most of us get up in the morning for work and drive over the structurally unsound bridge and then pass the accident at that same place …you know, the dangerous intersection the city keeps ignoring. But it’s all good. The cop writes the tickets while the mechanic, the tow truck, and the hospital get their cut and, hey, now they captured it all on camera to maximize litigation. Then you make it to work and report to the Board-selected sociopath—who, surprise surprise, the governing board identified as the only personality disorder anywhere near the top of the food chain—a person whose sole, yet soulless, job is to figure out how to do more with less human resources. And you are a salaried employee, possibly in a right to work state, which translates as: you’re on call 24/7 and please work 50-80 hours a week or we’ll find someone else who will. Oh, and we can fire you without cause, just ’cause. You wander to the window where the facility guys have resumed emptying those skull & crossbone labeled barrels into in the culvert across from the park. Sure, the drinking water’s getting a little Flintier and the food is getting a little more salmonelliear, but we’re saving money, right?