Starving to Death and Calling It a Diet Plan

I get to work this morning, and as always, I have light conversation with the guy I'm relieving.

He tells me he’s picking up an extra shift tonight — money’s tight.
He mentions he’s getting full disability from the VA.
I know for a fact he’s working seven hours a day, five days a week — because I relieve him every Saturday morning — and yet, he's still drowning.

I do the math in my head, and something’s not adding up.
But hey, it’s his story, and he’s sticking to it.
Math stopped making sense a long time ago in this country.

The conversation takes a few not-necessarily-sequitur turns, and somehow, we end up talking about Trump’s mass government layoffs.
(I should’ve known better; I’ve caught him watching Fox News a few times — and not even the smarter hosts.)

He’s nodding, half-smiling, half-bitter.
"Something had to be done," he says. "We’re a billion dollars in debt. Plus, they only fired the new people."

I correct him — that's not true.
In many cases, the "new people" were probationary because they had just been promoted, not because they were inexperienced.
He’s not listening.

I point out the obvious landmine:
"You know they slashed VA staff too, right? The place that cuts your check, books your appointments, answers your calls? You okay waiting six months instead of three?"

He shrugs.
"It always takes a long time anyway."

And there it is.
That battered, tired acceptance.
The kind you only see in people who’ve been fighting the same broken system for so long, losing feels like home.

The system is on fire.
But he’s been living in the smoke so long, he’s decided the burn is normal.
Hell, maybe even necessary.

It's easier to believe the people setting the fire have a plan.
It’s easier than admitting they’re just playing with matches and laughing while the walls come down.

Survival doesn’t just make you tough.
Sometimes, it makes you defend the very thing killing you.

I ended up just walking out of the room abruptly.
He followed, trying to keep the conversation going, but at that point, my blood pressure was rising.
Talking to these pseudo-Trumpers is like trying to teach analytical geometry to a K4 class at naptime.