Saturday, January 28, 2012

Punched-Out

Your shift is over,
It’s the end of the night,
Better stamp your time card,
Lock up and turn off the light.

A twelve-hour day
And you simply sat on your ass,
Thinking your charming smile
Would get you another free pass.

So don’t be surprised
When you get to work in the morning
And your locker’s cleared out,
Because I gave you fair warning.

Nevertheless, it was expected,
Predictable given your age,
So I left your final cheque in the mail,
No overtime, just minimum wage.

And if you should ever need a recommendation,
Don’t bother coming to me,
Without the favors I used to do,
You could never afford my fee. 

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