Tag: work

Like Clockwork

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There’s a reason why people use the phrase “Like clockwork.”
Every gear must be in perfect alignment.
Every tooth, precise, as with every escapement, spring, and wire.
It all doesn’t just fall into place.
It has to be painstakingly planned and built to utter precision.
Every piece working together in harmony.
One piece out of place, and the whole mechanism fails.
It takes a steady, patient hand to guide all the pieces into position.
Then, snap the case shut, wind it up, and listen.
Do you hear the ticking?
It’s ticking. It’s breathing.
Another watch, another clock is born.
Amen.

Focus

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I had a boss who made the craziest demands.
Once, she told me to focus on everything.
No. Really.
Focusing on everything.
Isn’t that impossible?
You have to focus on something. And then, everything else goes out of focus.
When something catches your attention out of the corner out of your eye, you shift your focus to that.
And what you had been focusing on, you don’t focus on anymore.
How can you focus on everything?
One day, I noticed that she used a special bottle of eyedrops for her contact lenses.
It glowed green.
I quit the next day.

Push Pull

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Some doors say push. Others say pull.
And then there’s some doors that don’t say either on them.
You have to figure out which way they go based on the handles.
If there’s just a flat plate to push on or a bar to tug on, that’s easy.
Then there’s the swinging doors. You push on either side.
What if someone’s coming from the other side?
Best to push carefully.
Or, if you’re feeling like being really mean, why not just kick the door in?
Although, you’d better be sure the door swings that way.
Want to sign my cast?

Billy the Kid

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Feelin’ lucky tonight?
William Bonney over in Accounting was a renegade CPA who settled down and went corporate.
But during Audit Season, the Call of the West got in his blood, and he became Billy the Billing Kid.
Forms? Ledgers? Books?
He’s put them all away and reached for his sixguns.
He’d shoot down lawyers and tax agents and all sorts of credit service representatives.
Accounts Payable and Accounts Receivable became Accounts Dead when he faced off with them on Main Street at High Noon.
Billy wasn’t killed by no sheriff.
Downsizing, man. It gets us all in the end.

Boatsman

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Throughout the ages, the boatsman kept his fare the same: one soul, one coin.
It didn’t matter what kind of coin it was or how valuable it had been in the land of the living.
He liked to collect coins.
On the weekends, he showed off his vast coin collection to his friends.
The job called for a stoic, professional demeanor, so when he was given a coin he didn’t already have, he’d fight hard to keep his composure.
Nobody wants their trip across the River Styx to be performed by a giddy skeletal ferryman.
It’s not like you ask for “do overs.”

Haircut Time

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I’m overdue for a haircut.
I’ve got every barber in town calling my cell phone.
They’re bidding on the job.
Some of them are trying to sweeten the deal with things like limo rides, hookers, and a free shave.
This one stylist keeps sending me flowers. Huge flower arrangements.
In fact, when I open the door, the whole front hallway is just flowers.
How he got in here to fill the place with flowers, I’m not so sure.
Kinda scares me.
Maybe I’ll just donate it to those cancer folks.
Or shampoo with Nair and let it all fall out.

Mailed It

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When you can’t be there for someone, sometimes you do the best you can with what you have.
This wasn’t much comfort to Sarah, but she didn’t feel like wasting time complaining or getting angry over something she couldn’t change.
She kissed the slip of paper, put it in an envelope, and mailed it to her one true love.
The mailman took it for himself and hid it away in a desk, bringing it out every so often when he felt sad and lonely.
A coworker discovered the letter and showed it to their boss.
He growled and mailed it.

The Customer

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You know the phrase The Customer Is Always Right?
Bullshit. This guy is an asshole.
For years, he’s been plaguing me with stupid questions, begging for me to help him, screaming that he’s losing thousands of dollars because of me.
It’s because he’s a stubborn jackass. It doesn’t matter what instructions I give to him – he ignores them.
When I read the paper this morning, I saw his name on the front page.
Seems his house burned down and he died in the fire.
I guess he didn’t follow the instructions again.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

Hit The Road, Jack

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It was time for Jack to go.
When it’s time, it’s time.
He packed his things. They fit in a single cardboard box.
Jack never owned more than he could pack into a cardboard box.
If he ever bought anything, he’d give away something about the same size.
A new book for an old book. New shoes for old shoes.
What he bought to eat, he ate. The pantry was empty.
Balance.
He picked up the box and walked out the door.
Another man named Jack walked in, carrying a cardboard box.
A new Jack for an old Jack.
Balance.

Six Iron

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“What the hell’s that racket?” growls the boss.
It’s not a racket, I say. Joe’s been beating the copier with a five iron.
The boss tells me to make Joe stop, so I head for the copier room.
Joe”s got a five iron in his hands, and he”s beating the copier.
Pieces are flying all over the room, but the jam has yet to clear.
I sigh. This is not what it says in the owner’s manual.
The owner’s manual calls for a six iron.
I try to tell Joe this, but his caddy keeps me out of the drive-line.