Kiss ass or die

I saw her bragging about her Dream Home,

Which I never had.

It was cleverly disguised as a complaint

On the social media.

Look what the hurricane has done!

It littered the back yard with debris

And messed up the swimming pool

With parts of broken trees.

The house is intact,

But could be worse…

I stare at this mansion in the tropics

And feel the pain of my life’s curse.

We met decades ago,

Both interns at marine science camp.

By any means, no equals:

She’s an American,

Already owned her car in early 20es,

And had a family to lean on.

It’s no big deal unless

You have none of it.

A foreign exchange student,

I had no solid footing

In the new country —

But my home planet was exploding

In slow motion, so to speak.

So I was back in Florida to work

At the same place again…

I hoped to gain prosperity

But never felt so weak.

She changed…

Now in the management position

No longer cool and friendly —

The kind of gal I liked;

Now it was all about the rules,

Regardless if they sucked.

I tried so many times

To bring it up

That employees are not small kids

And micromanagement isn’t needed;

That we are scientists and not jocks,

Which made it odd

That one would keep or lose their job

Of a science instructor

Depending on their speed of swimming,

Since we were also lifeguards.

I did enjoy the course

Of rescue skills,

But the swim test was the real killer:

Unless you’re trained for many years

To be a swimmer at Olympics —

You’re fucked,

And your science knowledge doesn’t matter.

I had seen some blockheads

Who taught regardless,

Because they were fast swimmers.

Huh?!.

She had seen it too —

That, and how overworked we were

With so little break time;

How very stressful it had been

To not have showers for the staff

And have to stand in line,

Then — military rinse

After the students,

And hurry to set up the labs

For the upcoming lesson.

She knew there was no internet at camp,

No laundry setup either,

So everyone was forced to drive someplace,

And that’s all we could squeeze

Into meagre off time.

She knew about the prohibition

To have booze on site,

But I had noticed

She was sneaking in some wine

To have a little party

On her private house boat.

No doubt, she had to endure

Same limitations as the rest of us

Before the higher rank was granted.

That’s a relief for those

Who keep imposing those on others.

Does it really matter

That this isn’t working

To make one last?

They just re-hire every season.

I really don’t know what it takes

To bite the bullet,

To turn a blind eye

To things which feel so wrong.

I couldn’t. I spoke up

And was accused of “treason”.

Who? Me? That alien

Who should be grateful?

I was. If anybody thinks

I didn’t try hard enough —

I can’t convince them.

But I’m likely not the best career material,

If that depends less on my knowledge

And more on playing by the rules,

Hoop-jumping, apple-polishing

While smiling and pretending

That nothing’s wrong —

Then yikes.

I see this same pattern

Repeating time and time again

In personal life, as well as my career.

Some things I can’t accept —

And because I can’t

I don’t get the benefits,

On which I depend…

Vulnerability is hell.

Why can’t I have the money,

The house, the relationship —

All things most basic but so hard to get?

Perhaps because it means

Dealing with people —

And that sucks.

If people can’t handle the truth

Then I can’t handle them;

Truth and people

Must be the opposites.

What’s wrong with me

If I can’t “get a life”

Based on lies?

The suffering is REAL

When I’m deprived of things,

Which could be gained

At this teeny-weeny flash sale price

Of losing myself.

10.12.22.

N.B.