Thursday, October 4, 2012


Johnson Beach

He taps his pen on the desk, purposely overhears a conversation in the next cubicle.  His mom had always said he was of the curious sort. The last of her three he had been born with such ailments as to warrant a lifetime of bless his heart. With this came a certain acquiesce to the powers that be or he respected authority depending on the way you looked at it. Look him straight on and decide he was wimp or a wuss but tilt your head just the slightest and see he saw the need for organization. Hierarchy in his opinion was not necessarily a bad thing.

He had not accepted money for his role as company narc. The thought of being cast into upper management would mean that he agreed with them as well. He didn't. The people around him were unconcerned with the company and most of the time it seemed that the company was as well. It had gotten hard for anyone to tell.

It was relentless, that daily struggle.

Today I am grateful for people who care about their jobs, their work, their kids, their role as a son, a daughter, a friend.

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