I’m not a monster

They said I was a monster in the press. Everyone I thought I knew turned their backs on me. I went from everything to nothing. But I was going with what worked, and what worked made money before it all blew up.

I worked for a successful company, that operated in an economy where similar businesses ran against each other for years. Without any issues or social justice warriors interfering. No one was even paying attention at first.

I’m not able to tell you yet what I did or where I worked. I’ve already served my time, and the world has made its own opinion of that business, after a few people decided that what we did was inhumane. Unethical. Criminal.

It affected people, sure. But we didn’t know how much of our decisions actually led to what happened.

Those “affected people” were taken care of by us. They often got hurt on their own accord in our facilities. Sometimes we just couldn’t cover the costs of meeting their needs.

Starvation. Disease. Fatal injuries. It happened. Not intentionally. We just didn’t have enough eyes on the floor, so to speak.

The issues started to add up and the law shut us down.

That’s all they saw, though. The press, the public, the law. They only saw the bad stuff.

And this is all I get for my years of leadership. I ran the whole company. I ran operations. I oversaw everything. I didn’t kill or harm anyone personally, my job was to run the business. Things happened, bad things. Yeah, they were my facilities. But I wasn’t there when anything happened. I manage money, employees, development.

I can’t tell you what my job was yet, my career. I can’t tell you the name of the corporation I started. I won’t do that at all. It’s all attached to a demonic perception the media created about it now.

I can’t help anyone they say I harmed. Or killed.

I still get emails and phone calls from journalists, advocates, and family members who’ve been affected. I can only answer them one way.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

The audacity of me to even ask is offensive. I know that. But before we got caught that sort of answer ensured whoever was bothering us thought we cared. When honestly, we didn’t. We just cared about money. Classic copy paste answers to tough questions.

So, that’s all I can do to help is tell you that. No one has got your back. No one is going to be accountable until they’re forced to.

This is all I got commemorating my hard work by the way. Over thirty years in the business. This is all I got. This shitty home made plaque. Some anonymous prick sent it to me. I guess his mother died in one of my facilities after he lodged a complaint - I asked him “is there anything I can do to help you?” Then I blocked him. Then he waited years to send me this after I got busted.

But I deserve this.

There aren’t any days I have now where I wish I’d been someone else. Where I wished I cared. Because now I’m without my own representation. Without my own advocacy. Without anyone to ask if they can do anything to help me. Even insincerely.

I’m not a monster. But sometimes I wish I was. Monsters often do terrible things because of the terrible circumstances they were born into. Hideous creatures, repulsive to all. Who acted out on this because the world treated them unfairly from the start.

I had a choice. I could fix the problems my institutes caused or ignore them, because those who were affected meant nothing to me. To society. Their circumstances made them repulsive and they were used to being treated unfairly.

I took advantage of them. Because I thought they were monsters. Homeless, depraved, poor. I provided them a substandard group of residential facilities where their disability benefits covered rent and meals. I didn’t do much other than collect the revenue for it.

And I didn’t care if it was hell in there. Rats, disease, violence. Lack of support staff. No kitchen staff sometimes.

“They had a free place to stay. They should be grateful.”

I’m not a monster, but I’d trade places with one any day. I really would.

I’m worse than a monster.