Sob Stories

I detect a theme running here this month and that theme is how quickly things can change, long inert periods suddenly punctuated by moments of sheer terror.  I had a job I’d been doing well for years until one day I learned that certain individuals imagined my integrity was something they could play with like it was a little toy of theirs.  I declined to be viewed as endorsing that take on who I am.  I voted for my integrity and for that indiscretion I’m still paying three years on.  So the lesson must be:  “Screw your integrity”.  Because I’ve found that integrity is very expensive.  In strictly monetary terms the meter has run well into six figures and in personal terms this desire not to break with my sense of my own integrity has come close to ruining my life.  Sob.  Gasp.  But we can have a little fun with this too.  The following is a fictional take on an employment situation and what I refer to as “the culture of unentitlement”.  This poem is intended solely for the private, non-commercial use of our viewing audience.  Any similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

THE PRESENTATION

A slow death is always worth a pat on the shoulder
Good show for not complaining too much
Helping us look good is helping yourself
That’s how it works, it’s just business
We’re all in this together and thank you very much
Plunk!
You sitting at the staff waiting your presentation
She coming by pats you on the shoulder
Good guy, thanks a lot
She pats you on the shoulder

‘I tell you what…
‘We need to bring a great deal of force to fight a very big problem…
‘But first I want to thank you
‘Thank each and every one of you for being here and for helping
‘For making a diff–  ’
He was in his own mind, looking out at this bunch
Here they all were
The people he’d worked with fifteen years
He hated most of them, a few were all right, one or two had become
friends
He was in front of them all doing his presentation
‘Believe it or not I’ve never done this before, not even once…  ’
‘For helping us do what we do…  ’
‘Publishers love this, twelve hundred copies and this is just one
store…  ’

Pat on the shoulder a hundred thirty-seven thousand a year
You sitting at thirty-seven thousand
The truth was it felt good when she plunked you
It felt like support even if it wasn’t really real
The cupped hand landing on your left shoulder
On the firm broad shoulder of your consignment store coat
You’d barely entered the room and sat down and here she is
Kathunk!
‘Than’s a lot
‘Tha’s great!’
Helping us is helping yourself
That’s how it works
You dug your own grave
We help ourselves and pretend to care

‘I was only ever drunk once on the job…
‘I never stole a thing…
‘Okay a pen one time but it was an accident…
‘And in closing, again, I can’t thank you enough…
‘For being here and for making a diff–  ’
He was in his own mind
‘You remember the guy who woke up in the Ottawa River…  ’
Titters and laughs and Ben kicked his chair
‘He paid the price in blood and got old in a hurry…
‘They messed him up to begin with and it fell apart from there
‘But remember what the General said:
‘“Don’t hit ’em too hard and they won’t fall apart too fast…  ”
‘Now that’s a statement of compassion for your enemies…
‘Or an admission of sadism, we need to think about which…  ’
‘In closing…  ’
The hook was coming and staff were flooding the exits
‘Years ago you came here expecting miracles…
‘That somehow it was going to work for you.  It didn’t.  Now you’re
lost…  ’
‘I expect many of you will be desperate to contact your loved ones.’