Corporate, Smorporate
I thank the universe every morning that I'm not still in the corporate world.
Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack. Keep up, keep up, keep up.
What a good decision, I say to myself. What a lucky escape. What a bunch of trumped up, self important fakers.
Bill every hour, bill every hour, bill every hour.
Welcome to the real world, I tell myself in the mornings when I am standing in my kitchen and it is light outside and I am drinking my first coffee at the pace your first coffee of the day was meant to be consumed.
I feel sorry for them, those I left behind, to tell you the truth. All that hot air, all that self importance, all that delusion about thinking they are, actually, doing something worthwhile, something real, when all they are doing is racking up as many billable hours as they can. Sad really. Actually, tragic because they are now jeopardising the health of the planet with some of the projects they facilitate. As well as kidding themselves, every day of the week. So much nothing propped up on hot air.
All those baby lawyers worked to the point of death, to feather the dinosaur’s nests.
Year in, year out, they are all lucky if all they get is gout.
All those little graves dotted along the corporate track, holding all those little bodies of all those baby lawyers who didn’t make the cut.
And I was one of the lucky one, as I was good at it, a bloody great success… what a mess.
I needed to get out.
Blahdy, blahdy, blahdy blah, blah, blah!
"Yakety Yak," let’s try to get back on track.
Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack. Keep up, keep up, keep up.
What a good decision, I say to myself. What a lucky escape. What a bunch of trumped up, self important fakers.
Bill every hour, bill every hour, bill every hour.
Welcome to the real world, I tell myself in the mornings when I am standing in my kitchen and it is light outside and I am drinking my first coffee at the pace your first coffee of the day was meant to be consumed.
I feel sorry for them, those I left behind, to tell you the truth. All that hot air, all that self importance, all that delusion about thinking they are, actually, doing something worthwhile, something real, when all they are doing is racking up as many billable hours as they can. Sad really. Actually, tragic because they are now jeopardising the health of the planet with some of the projects they facilitate. As well as kidding themselves, every day of the week. So much nothing propped up on hot air.
All those baby lawyers worked to the point of death, to feather the dinosaur’s nests.
Year in, year out, they are all lucky if all they get is gout.
All those little graves dotted along the corporate track, holding all those little bodies of all those baby lawyers who didn’t make the cut.
And I was one of the lucky one, as I was good at it, a bloody great success… what a mess.
I needed to get out.
Blahdy, blahdy, blahdy blah, blah, blah!
"Yakety Yak," let’s try to get back on track.
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