Bear With Me, Till the Work Gets Done!

Another poem about my lack of pride at my job.

Bear with me, please, till the work gets done;
The job is so unimportant –
Transplant me to bask in the warm, bright sun,
Where trivial tasks are so scant!

Whether we’re bagging groceries,
Or bussing many tables clean,
Or checking a document series,
Or giving change in some retail scene…

This ensures that we make enough money
To survive and pay bills that we owe;
Staying busy is never too funny,
And keeps all of our ducks in a row…

But, sir, please check with me later
When all of the paperwork’s completed,
Because there won’t be any tasks greater
Than the documents keeping me seated…

Just deal succinctly with the person
Who’s saying the work’s far from done,
When that person’s soul will just worsen
As they’re told that the job is still fun…

But keep in mind that I’m lucky
To have this job passing time;
Bear with me, please, when I’m picky –
I feel like I’m way past my prime!