Friday, July 6, 2012

Knuckle under. Or not.

From the moment you're born, attempts are made to get you to knuckle under.

You're meant to be well-behaved.
Clean your room.
You're meant to speak when spoken to.

You're meant to be obeisant to people bigger than you.
Or people wearing blue blazers.
Or people in uniform.

You're meant to believe what you're told.

That it's you they're thinking about.
Your future.
Your happiness.

You get this from your parents, the cool kids at school, your teachers and those sadists who make you feel if you can't climb a thick rope hanging down from the ceiling that something is wrong with you.

You're meant to knuckle under.
To believe they know and you don't.
That they're right and you're wrong.

Knuckle under.

Then you get into a job.
A job that's hard to get.
Where you see it's people who toe the line who get ahead.
The toads.
The ass suckers.
The brown-noses.
And you're stuck making shit because you're not one of the guys.
You're not knuckling under.

Somehow you progress anyway.
You earn a title.
Then maybe you get a client that's as blind as shit is brown.
They're after you too.
To make you knuckle under.
Life would be so much easier if you just would.
And about twelve people know the difference anyway.
Knuckle under.

It's there every day.
Knuckle under.

What do you do?