As usual I arrived at my table at work early this morning, well before anyone else. It's a gray day here in the city. In fact, the only color seems to come from the lavish advertising placards urging you to vote for this or that candidate. It's primary day or election day, I'm not sure which, and the candidates are as blah as the weather.
I have a lot of shit to do at work. But since my illness I have been somewhat lacking in my usual passion. I worry about my tendency to work too hard. And my agency's tendency to not reward that work.
The "contract" between us is broken. I am supposed to work my ass off. Only to be told "we didn't make our numbers and perks are small or frozen."
I suppose I am considered just another stray bit of "wretched refuse," and therefore too stupid to know when I'm being lied to. Sorry. I'm not that stupid.
In any event, I do the work they ask of me. And since they keep asking, I must be doing it well. Or well enough.
But I know my heart ain't in it.
Because their heart ain't in me.
5 comments:
And there ain't nothing you can do about it.
In that case, I recommend you listen to Stan Getz/Joao Gilberto
Sean, I've got Anita O'Day on...That ain't bad.
Bukes, nice photo.
george
rethink and recalibrate..your illness was fate trying to send you a message. how many heartbeats do you have left to expend on your timesheet
rethink
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