Entitlement

(Written for the "Morbid and True" competition and dedicated to certain co-workers I have a major problem with—you know who you are)


What does the term “entitlement” mean?
That you are entitled to something?
Owed something?
Do tell;  I’m all ears.

You, who sits on her ass all shift,
Twiddling on the iPhone—
How ‘bout it?
What gives you the right to do that
When you know it’s not allowed
And you see the rest of us running around like idiots
Doing all the work.
Are you entitled?

And you,
Who would rather watch YouTube videos, than work?
I love it when I just know your balls are shriveling up inside your pants,
The minute I walk up behind you
And catch you unawares.
Are you entitled?

And how about you,
Who thought she’d rise fast through the ranks
And become supervisor,
A month after graduating from school?
Disillusioned to the point of not even wanting to work anymore,
Always asking to leave early,
Hiding in rooms where it looks like you’re busy
But I know you aren’t.
Are you entitled?

And you,
Biggest disappointment of all.
You started off well, years ago,
But now you’re nothing but a spiteful,
Smart-mouthed asshole
Who spends all her time on the internet,
Does only her immediate work,
And refuses to help the rest of us,
Despite the fact that it’s everyone’s job to do so.
Are you entitled?



When did things change?
You all make me sick
And want to throw my badge in the trash
And quit.

And why was it allowed to get to this point?
And why are none of you gone,
Fired,
Like you should have been long ago?

When did the rules change
And slip-shod behavior, coddled,
Instead of corrected?

I’m counting the days until I actually can throw my badge down,
And bail,
Because somehow, you’re obviously entitled,
And I won’t play that bullshit game,
Any longer than I have to.

My paper-trail will continue to grow,
Until then.