I go to work, I serve my time -
I do it well! And for this crime,
you’ve sentenced me to “bonding” with my “team”.
My PowerPoints are fabled, I
make spreadsheets like a goddess! Why,
my pie charts are so sexy I could scream!
And still, I have to climb that wall,
to climb that bloody wall.
I graft for you! I don’t shout “jerk”
when you take credit for my work.
You’re paying me! That’s fine - I know my place.
But here is how you build morale -
free teabags! Hell, I’d be your pal
for posher pens, or Derek’s parking space.
But no. I have to climb that wall,
to climb that bloody wall.
The chance to hang with Harold in
his Rambo gear is not “win-win”,
my “brand cohesion” isn’t set to spike.
If swamp-mud was my thing, you see,
I’D JOIN THE EFFING INFANTRY!
(I’ll stick that in your inbox if you like.)
But for now, I have to climb this wall,
to climb this bloody wall.