Friday Humor: The Admin and the HR Rep

["Alex Silbajoris" <alsilba -at- hotmail -dot- com>]

When Jane Carnall posted "An SME (who sits next to me)" I thought at first 
of Little Miss Muppet.  Then I noticed that the meter matched The Walrus and 
the Carpenter.  When I read the original, I realized its story line was much 
closer to the tale of woe from EP Leigh.

This one goes out to all the good people who used to work at Qwest and 
Boeing and a hundred other places.  I was in the audience when Steve Case 
put on a CompuServe t-shirt.

The Admin and the HR Rep

The sun shone down on every page
of the Annual Report,
But through the reams, its brilliant beams
did everything distort.
For, truth be told, not much was sold,
and earnings were far short.

The Admin and the HR Rep
looked through the rolls one day,
they wept like anything to see
such quantities of pay.
"If we could only downsize this,"
they said, "we'd be OK."

"If seven hacks made seven stacks
of all their resumes,
Do you suppose," the Admin asked,
"They'd quit in seven days?"
"I doubt it," said the HR Rep,
"We'll try some different ways."

"Oh writers, come and meet with us!"
The Admin e-mailed then,
"We'll do a nice review or two,
so we will understand:
Just what it is we're paying for you,
as you feed from our hand."

The Eldest Writer read the post,
But nothing he did say.
The Eldest Writer went online
to post his resume.
This sort of thing, he'd seen before:
The dwindling, numbered Days.

But four young writers hurried up,
eager for doughnut treats.
Their laptops hummed, their coffee brimmed,
their ties were straight and neat.
They walked into the lion's den
and gladly took their seats.

Four other writers followed them,
anticipation keen,
And thick and fast they came at last,
the whole Tech Writing team.
They rummaged through the doughnut box
and squinted at the screen.

The Admin and the HR Rep
talked on, an hour or so;
they pointed to a dipping chart
of monies running low.
And all the little writers sat,
and listened in a row.

"The time has come," the Admin said,
"to talk of many things:
of billing hours while business sours,
of sheepskins and class rings,
of what we pay, and by the way,
of what return that brings."

"A sea of red," the Admin said,
"a shark-infested ocean,
is where you'll find our bottom line."
Then this, with no emotion:
"To improve earning, we are turning
to layoffs and demotions."

"But not on us!" the writers cried,
Yet, futile was their wail;
as each and every one of them
was kicked out on his tail.
Their cubes were cleared, the contents tagged
for liquidation sale.

"It seems a shame," the Admin said,
"to let them go like that,
in this job scene, they'll live as lean
as a starving alley cat."
The HR Rep said nothing but
"My bonus deal is fat."

"Oh writers," said the HR Rep,
"we've had a pleasant meet.
Shall we return to work?" he said,
to naught but empty seats.
The coffee cold, the doughnuts old,
the writers on the street.


- Alex Silbajoris


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