Posted in Short Stories, Uncategorized

If Only We Had The Time To Help You

Are you feeling quite alright?
Would you like to tell me more?
I’d like to help you, if I can,
Just like I did before.

Except, the ‘help’ you gave was useless
You just gave me more work.
You sat and heard my problems out…
Well, you said you did, you jerk.

Look, I don’t see how to tell you
This workplace is insane
And you don’t care that it’s broken,
So, really, telling you’s inane.

You want to discuss this further
Have a meeting, talk it out.
But you’re flying off to Munich,
Oh, and once you’re back, you’re out.

Of course, my concerns are most important,
You’d like to give them proper time,
To think about the options
Without running overtime.

Is there no one that I can talk to?
Oh, yes, of course, they’re out.
On training sessions, workshops –
Well, maybe someone is about?

Underutilised, you say you are,
Well, that’s something we can fix.
Here, do more of all that printing,
Which any sane system would nix.

OK, sure, the job that you applied for,
And the one you daily do
Are nothing like each other,
But we’re sure the fault’s with you.

No, we take your thoughts, suggestions,
Very seriously, we swear.
It’s just that, as soon as you stop talking,
We lose them in mid-air.

Maybe we like to reinvent the wheel,
We love constantly hiring staff,
The revolving door’s not bad for us,
We enjoy all the extra faff.

Well, we’re sorry you don’t want to help,
By talking through your woes.
We tried to make the effort,
Active listening, heaven knows

We really value all our staff,
Without them we’d be lost,
We definitely respect them,
We’re sure they’re worth the cost.

Look. You asked me in five minutes,
To explain six years of Hell,
To people who don’t give a shit
About their personnel.

You couldn’t even find the time,
To sit and talk things through,
You want me to believe you’ll do the work
To improve the lives of ones ‘not you’?

Just go and reassure yourselves
That to work for you’s a joy,
An honour, and a pleasure,
For those in your employ.

Sure, it isn’t even slightly true,
But everywhere’s the same.
The standard’s slipped so deeply down
We can’t climb up again.

No, things are far from perfect,
But I’m sure things could be worse.
And I’ve used the remainder of my energy,
Trying to, with you, converse.


Writer. Crafter. Nerd.

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