Ch. 4
When I came sailing into my harbor of labor, my rigging knotted-up & dropped it's sails. I had run smack into my supervisor standing in the entry-way, Betty. She held in one hand a big #5 soup ladle & in her other a clipboard crammed thick with everything accounted for.
"Hi Clyde!" she beamed with teeth a-gleam ~ a mile-long smile on her face with which all I could do was fall in love ~ again again & again. She knew exactly who she was ~ the black goddess of work ~ sunrise, sunset.
She pointed with the big bent spoon in her hand at a list on the door I just cruised through ~ and this is what shredded my sail. "Look, Clyde. You got duty tomorrow morning!"
Sure enough ~ there on the extra-duty list, true and blue, was my name. I staggered around a little bit & finally come up with the question, "Why is it these days everybody is compromising my time?"
Betty's mind did a somersault & nimbly landed on its mindful feet. She replied, "Don't you want to be a team player?"
When I worked the morning-shift it set me back three days at the gym and at the computer-parlor. Plus, if I was on my feet too much, my 57-year-old left leg would swell-up. They knew there were reasons for my working part-time! Why did they do this to me?
"Yes, Betty. I want to be a team player," moaned I.
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crown:
"Somewhat Like Gold!"
artist unknown