Hardly Working at Sweet ‘n’ Sour Inc. (Postscript to “Every Bad Job Ever Rant”)
To be a functioning member
of the Privileged Working Class,
is to be in a rush to a job
where you mostly sit on your ass.
changing bulbs that don’t need changing
just because the schedule says so.
There’s no need for rearranging.
Checking off the little boxes,
putting in for overtime,
going through the daily motions.
Status Quo is not a crime.
It’s “Not my circus. Not my monkeys.”
–every day (or every night).
Can you really pick your battles?
Then chances are you’re male, and white.
Class is dismissed as he-said-she-said.
“That’s not my job” is used five times a day.
And it’s hard to tell who’s minding the store:
when the Fatcat’s away, the mice will play.
To be in the Privileged Working Class,
is to numb oneself to questions of power.
You pray at a flickering altar of apps
as decades go by in what feels like an hour.
Original poem by Mark Nielsen, writing his way out of (or drilling deeper into?!) a dark hole of career dysfunction and generalized social/existential dread. April 7, 2017.
Have a nice day.