Communal Radio Workplace Grievance Squad
Internal colleague station friction logged
The seething resentment, the silence in the staff canteen
Is bliss
‘Taste is subjective,’ they told me as they sat me down
And cleaned the wounds on my hands and the blood from my brow.
What can I say? I wasn’t myself that day.
A switch flicked inside me.
I woke with my hands pinned behind me,
My cheek to the floor
And a knee in my shoulder blades.
Thanks to Communal Radio Workplace Grievance Squad
I lost my mind but I kept my job.
The workers have gone round the bend.
Once again, it begins as a perk
And it ends in a law suit.
A minor dispute between friends escalates.
I swear I won’t touch that dial again.
One more inventive incentive designed to distract from the tortuous passage of time.
Oh, Communal Radio Workplace Grievance Squad
Restrain me.
Sedate me.
I feel another fit coming on...