Number Four

MEETING MUSCLES

It takes more muscles to frown
Than it does to give up and lie down
It takes more muscles to smile
Than it does to just wait a while

It'll take better slogans at work
To keep me from being a jerk
As in: "Meetings prove that none of us,
are quite as dumb as all of us!"

To truly feel part of the team
I'll need Valium topped with Jim Beam
To enjoy our group bonding sessions
I'll need self-lobotomy lessons

Dialog's the catalyst of great change-
May I leave and let things stay the same?
Motivation builds from synergy-
May I hope that the Sea Change is me?

If one must be the change that one wishes to see
I envision myself with that door behind me
If your attitude outward's what you'll be receiving
My attitude is "I give up and I'm leaving."

---Mark Trail


A traveling salesman named Franz Kafka stops by a farmhouse in hopes of finding a place to sleep for the night. The farmer reckons that it would be okay, but allows that the only sleeping space available would be in the bed with his buxom, young daughter. Kafka agrees and, after downing a sumptuous meal, climbed into bed with the nubile young woman.

The next morning, after a fitful sleep, he awoke to find himself transformed into a giant bug.

--LJC


I’m afraid, my friends, that that was the last of the Kafka jokes. They were all written about 20 years ago out of sheer boredom. You see, one of The Many Jobs of Len was a long-term temp position with the quasi-governmental entity FNMA, better know to the mortgage lending and borrowing world as Fannie Mae.

I was enlisted as part of a huge effort to computerize and balance all the files of that huge organization. By the time I was brought in, the work of the group I was assigned to had been pretty much done. I did some idiot job for about two weeks and then was informed by my supervisor that there was really nothing else for us to do.

Fortunately, our jobs were not going away, just the work. Our group turned into a kind of social club, and we amused and entertained the 100 or so other temps on our floor. (Those poor schmucks had to actually work every day.) As part of my humble way of keeping myself from going insane, I used to draw cartoons and write poems and other strange things on the blotter that I inherited as part of my office furniture.

I filled up sheets with my doodlings, including one that was entitled, “Spot the Firesign Theatre References.” The Kafka jokes developed from a little drawing I made of a nondescript building. Under the drawing, I put a caption that went something like this:

“Franz Kafka’s last apartment, located on the third floor of the Prague Arms, which can be found next door to the Prague Legs.”

After six months or so of this amusement, I decided to get into the legal assistant biz. More proof about suckers being born every minute. My great victory on that job was this: My boss’s boss, Wayne, on my last day asked me if he could keep my blotter sheets. I hope he still has them.

--LJC


There was a lady who worked for the temp agency on that job whose duty it was to come remove anyone who was being terminated. Her name was Romina. A coworker dubbed her “The Ax Lady.” I immortalized her and the job thusly:

(to the tune of “I Just Called to Say I Love You”)

No donut day,
Vacation pay.
You’re on the skids.
Just hit the bricks
And go away.
Romina’s here.
Your future’s clear.
‘Cause she’ll stop by,
You’ll look up and hear her say,”

“I just called to say ‘You’re fired.’
I just called to put my ax in play.
I just want to say, ‘You’re fired.”
And we don’t even give you sev’rence pay.”

We’ll eighty-six
Your benefits,
And we’ll deny
Your reasons why
You need a raise.
Romina’s here.
Her ax draws near.
And she’s not come
To coo and hum
To you your praise.

“I just called to say ‘You’re fired.’
I just called to put my ax in play.
I just want to say, ‘You’re fired.”
And we don’t even give you sev’rence pay.”