“I’m charging by the f—in word from now on.”

“The what word?”

I spell it out for my boss, “The f—in word.” 

Lucky for me, I know she kinda likes that word. 

“Are you ok?”

“No I’m still insane.”

Maybe you work in a corporation and you’re not.  Bully for you.  I’m imagining your super human qualities in my acronym-crazed head right now.

You must be very efficient at the workaround. 

And you can find your way around the matrix blind folded, can’t cha?  

Bet you can even give the ol push back and leave em feelin’ like they just had a good back rub.

Oh, I know.  These things are rudimentary corporate competencies.  But my feathers are permanently ruffled over things even more rudimentary.  Take, for example, the inhumanity of the parking lot.  Or the need for security badges.  And a policy that makes the receptionist ask guests whether they will need assistance in the event of a disaster.

Balls to that.

Who needs assistance when you’ve got the workaround.

My art flows from the patterns & paths of my lived experience which ⏤ like yours ⏤ are at once deeply personal and entirely universal.

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