(This was written a long time ago, when I had a different job. But some things don't change much...)

TEAM PLAYER

As the Bean Counter
I've seen the gender-chasm
of wallet thickness
on payday.

White noise hums, hardly detectable;
state-of-the-art electronic magic
tucked behind the walls to hook up to;
we've-come-so-far in office ambiance,
cop a feel at the fax machine.

Quality control,
colorful ties,
manly handshakes,
debits and credits they can't distinguish between,
but I can.

(Necessary evil.
Non-productive overhead).

Talk of fast cars,
Tequila shots on Friday nights,
X-Generation boys with financial advisors,
Christmas in Hawaii.

The new gal has legs!
But can't take a compliment.

The word processor has a suggestion
construed as a complaint.

Fine fabric pockets too deep
to extract praise,
too shallow
to burden enlightenment.

Back me in the corner after hours,
no longer the Bean Counter
but a Team Player.

Game over.