A poem about hypocritical HR and farcical business cultures - where the words and actions don't match.....
I’ve had bad days but not
as bad as John J. Macreedy’s in Black Rock,
A day for him that began as
he stepped off a train and into a world
Of secrets and lies, an
isolated place of menace led by Reno Smith
And his heavies, Hector
David and Coley Trimble. Spencer Tracy,
Robert Ryan, Lee Marvin and
Ernest Borgnine got on with their day
And I went to work in a
period of bad day after bad day after bad day.
We were a ‘respect for the
individual’ company, modern guru claptrap,
Mouthed by old-school
bosses who couldn’t give a toss about changing,
After all, the old bark and
bite ways worked. “Just bloody well do your job,
Or else!” Big
bully boss-boys and, sometimes, girls dressed themselves
In the morning with a
sneer, a grimace, ready to belittle, begrudge, be a bastard
Or bitch because that was
their fun, that was ego in top gear. “JFDI” –
“Just fuckin’ do it” – a
mantra behind the wafer-thin curtain of culture,
A workplace on paper that
looked like Disney cartoons, wholesome,
Encouraging, celebratory
and proud. Away from the bullshit, smeared
On wall posters, on
pocket-size leaflets, on badges and message pads,
Stone-faced business
tyrants, Renos, Hectors, Coleys, underestimating
Us Macreedys. “JFDI,”
they’d bawl. “JFDI.” Until one of our number, hit back,
Just like John J.
- “You're not only wrong. You're wrong at the top of your voice.”
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