[ WP ] You are a worker on the Tower of Babel . You wake up one morning to find that nobody speaks your language anymore .

I have one job. 
 
 It is n't the most glamorous of jobs - I do n't carve the history of our people onto each sacred stair. I do n't teeter atop the tower on wooden stilts to try and reach the heavens first. I do n't ride up on the giant stone blocks, keeping the lines from tangling. 
 
 I just paint the signs. 
 
 My mother nags at me every holiday - `` Isis is a stair carver now, and your cousin Horus just got a position as foreman for one of the main quarries.'' I try to tune her out. 
 
 My work is important - they could n't build the tower without guys like me. We do n't get the praise, but they need us. Without the sign guys, there'd be a lot more confusion. 
 
 It bugs me though, that we do n't get the respect. My mother thinks I'm wasting my time in a dead end job. My son asked his uncle Horus to come speak to his class on career day, not me. 
 
 Worst of all are the other workers. Most of the time, they ignore the signs - barge straight past a wet-floor sign, hug the right hand wall when the sign says keep left. The sign is there for a reason! 
 
 And when they do read the sign, when it's something big and red enough that they bother to puzzle out the heiroglyphs, the complaints start. 90 % of the time, they do n't even look up when I say `` hi'', but from the way they complain in the canteen, you'd think I constantly yelled my warnings through a megaphone. 
 
 It frustrates me. The signs keep everyone safe, and if they ignore them, walk right past them, there is going to be an accident. Nobody understands how important the signs are. No one thinks about what would happen if there were no signs, if no one knew about the rules and the problems. 
 
 Something tells me though, as I pin the `` out of order'' sign up next to the empty lift shaft, that today is going to be different.
