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Twisting of words and turning of phrases by Robert Cameron Hazelton
It's a familiar story to probably just about anyone with choppers, a good tooth gone bad. But of course with all the activity in my life lately and my usual dentist having retired, I let it go until it was good and infected. On top of that, work has been unbearable lately, bringing new products and machines online at a breakneck pace, plus trying to maintain normal production, all with the most miserable prick of a CEO ever born breathing down everyone's neck. The building I work in has 5 floors with about 40 machines now, and I'm the only quality person there still, so needless to say I run up and down a lot, and every step was a throbbing headache in more ways than one. It finally hit me one day that this buffoon of a 'leader' was just like my toothache in many ways, and as with anything so diseased either you cure it, or remove it. Seeing as I don't have the power to remove anyone from where I work (fortunately for a few) I realized I had to get myself away from there. I began to strip the walls of my office which I have inhabited for 18 years now. I've been working there a total of twenty and it is so difficult to imagine that part of my life being over, but I will bow to no one. When it comes to work, and I mean actual physical labor, I haven't met too many people that can keep up with me. I've learned many things since starting there, and have taken on many responsibilities above my station, but have no formal education to boost my nominal salary. That has always been acceptable in the past because I felt like part of a family, and I'll do anything for family. But the last couple of years the work has become increasingly more than the pay, not to mention the political bull of newer 'teammates' that have done nothing but talk smack about me while creating that extra work. Oh well, time to move on. So I'm ready to go and who comes walking through my door? The owner of the company. A very nice man that has trusted me with some very important tasks over the years. He says, "What's up Hazelass?" I say, "Not much, I was just waiting to see you so I could tell you to your face why I'm quitting." Well this really got his attention. We sat and talked for a while, after which I felt slightly better. I told him I'd stay but in my mind I was already gone. I just couldn't understand why he was putting so much of his trust (and money) with these people that any hourly laborer could see were incompetent. Memorial Day weekend was approaching, so I figured I'd get out of there for a few days and hopefully things would get better next week, the mantra of the working man. The band had a gig on Monday which had me pumped up and sooner than I liked it was Tuesday, time to go back to the hellhole. I sat at my desk and opened my mail and -BING- there was a letter from John the owner saying effective immediately he had launched the loser! It was almost surreal. I whooped really loud and heard an answering call from the warehouse outside my office. The few of us in the basement got together and laughed, it was glorious. This man had belittled everyone in the company at one time or another. The next day John came in with a big smile
and said "I was tired of that guy beating up my buddies,
he's outta here!"
Robert Cameron Hazelton lives in Amsterdam, New York and writes the poetry blog Average Poet. Send Bob a message either directly or using the Word Catalyst feedback form. For more from Bob visit the Word Catalyst archives or his online home. |
Cheshire Cat
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