PART TWO: UPPER MANAGEMENT.

It was a few weeks ago, during the crunch of “month end” in the accounting department, that the regional marketing manager (the “Big Big Boss”) threw open the door and entered with the general manager (the “Big Boss”) into the domain of math, food, and disgruntled women.

I was at the typewriter in the back completing the Day Sheet when the two of them made the obnoxious whirlwind akin to any pair of physically obese and socially dogmatic bigots upon entering a room full of their’ inferiors.

People –ESPECIALLY BIG, FAT MEN THAT TALK LIKE PEEWEE HERMAN – like his tend to have many private conversations among themselves about such inferior beings (employees) in most annoyed manner, for the record…

 

The very first thing that the Marketing Dude says upon opening the door and setting foot in the Accounting Department, and at the top of his Pee Wee-esque voice, says is:

          “Everyone get your green cards out and ready to show ‘em to the guy that pays your bills…”

 fat crook

And, in spite of my own inner-hackles being thrust up immediately, and the quite instantaneous rise in my blood pressure, the two of them just casually walk right on into the main office area and Mr. Marketing repeats the stupid-ass green card comment a second – then, a third time just as loudly, to the rest of my former co-workers (several, such as my former cubicle mate and (by this point) good friend, are natives of Mexico – in my friend’s case, under sponsorship by her husband for citizenship at present).

The two fatties laugh at their own jokes and harass the assistant manager for a brief time before rolling down the hallway to a different department to undoubtedly tell the same stupid jokes and poke each other’s Pillsbury a few more times or whatever they do.

And, in their wake, NOTHING…the supervisors don’t show any surprise or disgust  at the racism that just dumped itself all over our entire office; nobody says a fucking word – besides me.

I went to the office manager’s desk and said,
“Did you here that?”

Her response (and she is a black lady):

“Nobody said anything when they were still in here, y’all were laughing along with them…don’t try to come in here now after they’ve gone and say something about it, don’t try to act like you’re offended or something…”

She looked me up and down as if to say,

“Why do you care anyway, you don’t have a green card?”

 

Fuck that place, I’m so blessed to have gotten out.

 

PART ONE: THE ACCOUNTING DEPT.

Shame on them all, the blind fuckheads that they are…how soon we forget where we came from.

  1. You’ve got Ms. Office Manager of “Deliverance”:
    too caught up in her own confusion and cluelessness to even realize what a mistake it was to put someone as lacking in workplace knowledge and ethic as herself in charge. She calls shots and plays smart as the accounting department goes to shambles because she doesn’t know shit about what she’s doing from day to day. Not cold hearted, but heartless. Not even kidding anyone about anything, despite her failed self-imaging of a Jedi Master.
  2. Then there’s lil Miss “Princess Complex” Assistant Manager:
    She’s like 12 years old, in every way besides her ungainly height…the very last kind of person on Earth you wanna give any control to because yeah, she likely blows kisses to herself in the mirror whenever she gets the chance. This one is single handedly holding up the accounting department, and this can’t last. The gods have put her quite the lose-lose predicament, though she doesn’t know it yet. Too young for me to really hate forever.

Next, there’s Wednesday Addams, the unknowing lame:
So what? Wow, she inputs data and walks around like a permanent Mad Dog, with the most miserably frowning face imaginable every moment of every day. She covertly snitches on co-workers, pays far too much attention to what everyone else is doing, and was personally offended by Miss Princess Complex’s promotion to Assistant Manager when it happened, talking long shot about the entire situation. I’ve never heard her say anything remotely positive about the company etc. If any workplace on the planet had fewer employees like her, the world would be a better place.

The kicker to this scenario is that the rest of “the team” bust their collective assets to hold everything together: good, bad or otherwise. It tolls heavily. Then, the instant somebody speaks up about the conditions that we’re working under, it’s announced that employees are not allowed to walk around expressing any type of dissatisfaction.
Well Wednesday Addams gets to walk around looking looking like her dog just got run over by a car.
Fuck that place, I’m blessed to have finally gotten out.

Number Crunched.

The department that accounts for things,
Holds very few true human beings,
Its evolved a new breed of “humanity”,
They’ve created a place full of resentment and greed.
The sound most often heard is the sniveling,
Of entitlement and its non-stop complaining,
To a point where nobody wants to be,
party to the effort made so bitterly.
Where it feels like an impossibility,
to face another day of such futility,
the management can’t seem to see,
Any sliver of what’s good, in reality,
They smile because they’re making money,
All the while, look at us in our misery,
Make it rain on us while outside it’s sunny,
We live like fiends on pay that cant keep,
Our bellies full, or make our ends meet,
There’s a child sitting in the manager’s seat,
And they call this “Dignity”.

Stand Tall.

Americana Injustica

Remember when you were small,

a future that made no sense at all,

hovered over your head all the time,

covered the dread too vague to define;

then the puzzles to Life seemed to multiply,

came the fizzle of fight in the blink of an eye,

lovers come and go without any preference,

scraps for the Scrapbook without significance,

days stack higher in a pile with Father Time,

nights drag heavily through the oceans cried,

Remember the day that you began to see,

how the world functions in all actuality,

remember cutting your lip on the brim,

and it dripped as you sipped at a future so grim;

these moments afforded no gracious subtly,

that slap in the face somehow still stings me,

the universe has its own separate itinerary,

and cares little for you and even less for me.

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