Sunday, January 26, 2014

Call Center

Upright I sit in fear of the Oso who eats the floor. The man who feeds on our diversions. We are his stepping stools. His stairs to the upstairs. Like magnets to my fingertips the thick black keys pull me in. The screen stairs back at me. It's not a contest but technology knows no end to games. It waits obsessively for the next case, the next tab, the next page. A flash of red and a voice hits the brain like a tambourine. A flood of information pours down the ear canal and all I want is a problem, not the whole war. I cover my walls in memories, reminders of the life outside this florescent lit strain on the retina. We seek a little sunlight-nothing more than a distant window can be seen, only if you dare to stand up to the shadow in the corner of the room. Through that door is a portal only he can enter and exit, unless your are invited. Do I wish to be invited? No! I prefer to stay with my compañeros, waiting for the Oso to stroll through the endless cubicles of slavery.

1 comment:

  1. Another perspective on the workplace:

    Bananas and coffee are a great way to get going in the morning. So much caffeine and potassium gives me a kick in the fingers to run through the calls. I am vigilant. It helps me to exuberate my confidence. I know no amount of vocabulary will push me forward in this work place but the pace I work at secures my seat in a swarm of immaturity. Still, I am entertained by these misfits. They keep me young an understanding. Who am I to judge those who live their life through pleasure. I would only hope that they would continue to have interest in knowing the unknown. I'd never force it but I would find ways to influence those around me.