From Megsong, February, 2010:
I had to write a poem for English class this is what came out. Hope it cheers you all up at the least.
More than Automatons (It isn’t our fault)
You look behind the counter and you see,
no human being, your slave-to-be.
A dignity to soil.
Prices too high, make tempers boil.
Like lava, destroying all that is near.
Scream at the cashier!
It must be all their fault,
Those who make minimum wage,
Deserving your rage.
Those endlessly working, retail slaves.
You do not know us, we weary warriors.
All you see is the world made for you.
Except in retail, this must be true.
Demanding my discount,
because you’re my ‘friend’
when all that would do,
is make my job end.
Hauling your books from the back to the shelf,
handing you things you can get for yourself.
Three pallets per day, at least.
Four hundred fifty titles this week.
You think our job’s easy,
just toss out some books.
ignoring the endlessly angered looks.
We wearied warriors,
This one a model,
that one a writer,
Over there, the online freedom fighter.
All you see is the faceless drone.
Manning the counter to serve you alone.
The line getting longer and still you cry,
“You’re against me!
Bring your manager nigh.”
My manager who, is ringing up books by my side.
When policy is against you,
it must be our fault,
we ‘lied’ it cannot be true!
Any blame for books missing,
on our shoulders fall square.
When it’s the week before finals,
YOUR BOOK WON’T BE THERE!!
Some teachers forget too,
Their orders we need.
Before we can order the title with speed.
The speed of great Hermes.
please take a moment to meet our ‘crew’.
You’ll find we are human,
Just like you.
And struggling with classes, and text books too.
Meet our eyes.
Use our names.
Let us be human, one and the same.
Put yourself on our side of the counter.
Little time to eat, no time to play.
That is the ‘rush’ week way.
You rush in for books,
and then rush back out.
Complaining of prices,
And cashiers no doubt.
To make you less furious.
The average book weighs around five pounds.
Times four hundred and fifty,
the title amount.
That’s 2250 for one of every book.
Is it any wonder how tired we look,
with twenty-five members per class.
Half a million nearly.
Divide that by ten, our employee roster.
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