Where's your casual friday???
Welcome to corporate living. Telecom accounting number punching big business bullshit. Welcome to kahkis unfulfilled dreams and collared shirts. Welcome to meaningless small talk fake empathy praying for friday life. Join the office. Here's your ID security electronic leash jon you never wanted. Please enjoy your cubicle. Feel free to post non offensive pictures and posters. It's like your own office. You are special. Don't worry that what you're doing doesn't mean shit. Please figure out a way for our company to save a dime. Everyone is a huge asset to the incorporation, well that is until you fail to complete your meaningless task, or if we lose an account. Welcome to the real world. Welcome to "Office Space." Sad.
Yeah it's a negative view, but really I can see it in everyone's eyes at my temporary place of employment.
Here's the scoop. I work for a Temp Agency. Someone goes out of town? Need a quick fill? Here I am to take your 10$ an hour, your temporary solution for the little problems that arise. Currently I am being employed by a company called Electric Lightwave Inc. It's a telecom company that has lost a lot of money since the tech bubble burst. It was at one point very large I hear, but apparently a loss of a few major accounts threw back the whole communications conglomerate. Shutting down many offices and shrinking it's bank roll and therefore it's amount of employees.
I am filling in for a old man that reminds me a lot of my dad. His name is Clarence. He is a grandfather and a very sweet guy. Probably approaching 75 years old. His look, similar to my dad is best described as Santa Claus. You can see things have warn this man down. He is working as a mail room clerk. Everyone seems to love him, well the ones that take the minute to listen to him. He just wants people to care about him. And even after one day with him I do. He told me about his terminal son, dying at the age of 50 from throat cancer. I could feel the hurt in his voice. He is off on vacation this week and I will fill in for my minimal 8.50 an hour.
The job is worse than boring. Hours of waiting. Sad people come to visit, share their stories. I can see the eyes of the little girls inside these middle aged divorced women. Life didn't turn out like they had planned, there was ballerina there one time. Now it's rush hour traffic and long nights. I see the boy who was going to be an astronaut, or a firefighter, who is now a computer tech.
So I'll work for Clarence this week, and wish him the best with his life. But only for Clarence, I will never work at a place like this.
Fuck casual fridays, let's be us, all the time.
I hate the real world.
I hate that these jobs have to exist.
I wish we could all be NBA stars, actors, musicians, ballerinas, and models. I'm sorry world.
Now here's something totally different.
Imagine Sexily
Imagine.
The shape me and you,
Squeezed and twisted into sexy.
Blurred into a piece of a clay puzzle
That fit juuuuuuuuusssstttt right
Learned parallels and perpendiculars
The geometry of love
Each angle forever
Chosen since the time no one can remember
Since before we
And continues plenty after
Example of animalistic
Skilled on passion
Taught by love
No need to imagine
Who could forget
Let's burn this down and make our own real world.
Yeah it's a negative view, but really I can see it in everyone's eyes at my temporary place of employment.
Here's the scoop. I work for a Temp Agency. Someone goes out of town? Need a quick fill? Here I am to take your 10$ an hour, your temporary solution for the little problems that arise. Currently I am being employed by a company called Electric Lightwave Inc. It's a telecom company that has lost a lot of money since the tech bubble burst. It was at one point very large I hear, but apparently a loss of a few major accounts threw back the whole communications conglomerate. Shutting down many offices and shrinking it's bank roll and therefore it's amount of employees.
I am filling in for a old man that reminds me a lot of my dad. His name is Clarence. He is a grandfather and a very sweet guy. Probably approaching 75 years old. His look, similar to my dad is best described as Santa Claus. You can see things have warn this man down. He is working as a mail room clerk. Everyone seems to love him, well the ones that take the minute to listen to him. He just wants people to care about him. And even after one day with him I do. He told me about his terminal son, dying at the age of 50 from throat cancer. I could feel the hurt in his voice. He is off on vacation this week and I will fill in for my minimal 8.50 an hour.
The job is worse than boring. Hours of waiting. Sad people come to visit, share their stories. I can see the eyes of the little girls inside these middle aged divorced women. Life didn't turn out like they had planned, there was ballerina there one time. Now it's rush hour traffic and long nights. I see the boy who was going to be an astronaut, or a firefighter, who is now a computer tech.
So I'll work for Clarence this week, and wish him the best with his life. But only for Clarence, I will never work at a place like this.
Fuck casual fridays, let's be us, all the time.
I hate the real world.
I hate that these jobs have to exist.
I wish we could all be NBA stars, actors, musicians, ballerinas, and models. I'm sorry world.
Now here's something totally different.
Imagine Sexily
Imagine.
The shape me and you,
Squeezed and twisted into sexy.
Blurred into a piece of a clay puzzle
That fit juuuuuuuuusssstttt right
Learned parallels and perpendiculars
The geometry of love
Each angle forever
Chosen since the time no one can remember
Since before we
And continues plenty after
Example of animalistic
Skilled on passion
Taught by love
No need to imagine
Who could forget
Let's burn this down and make our own real world.