Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Whistle While You Work





Here at my job
I am in hell
Getting kicked in the face
As they wish me well;
Making barely enough
To put food on a plate
While shrewish voices
On my nerves do grate;
Veiled threats and barbs
Are casually thrown
By ruthless women
Who drag me down;
Half of whom can't spell
Or speak their mind
Unless it's petty,
Catty, evil, and unkind;
Who talk behind backs
And smile to the face
Making every passive aggressive effort
To put one in their place;
Surrounded by cunts
Who leave one out of their clique
Behaviour not fitting of work and superiors
Enough to make one sick;

Superiors - a strange word indeed
For it is the furthest from the truth
Superiority in name
Only under this one roof.

Perhaps it is me
I ask myself day to day
Who takes it to heart
When I should just walk away;
But I've always maintained
That I wish to try
To give the benefit of the doubt
Without asking why;

So while I search for another
Job that will fit
I try to pass the time
While I'm mired in shit;
I dream dreams of the wicked
Of retribution and pain
Of my victory in their debasement
Of their losses and my gain;
Yet all it really does
In the end, I must admit
Is remind me the need
To just up and quit.


Bastiids.

2 Comments:

Blogger Metabolic Karma said...

LMAO
Oh god - I don't know whether to laugh or cry - both from sheer empathy.

2:38 PM  
Blogger Sportive Tricks said...

Did anyone ever tell you you are one wicked wit when you're angry?

2:26 PM  

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