First humbly comply,
An effort making to apply,
Self assuring that they would reply:
That God shall your needs supply,
Your forms to shorter routes ply.
Yes, first boldly apply
And you’ve succeeded to imply
That you shall never away fly
When “Dear Sir” decides to be sly…
The Doubting Christian Applicant
Sometimes forgets he is a communicant.
Thirty hours early for her interview.
Impressive or ludicrous?
She ordered everything on the menu.
Wanted to taste each dish before accepting position.
Is she the new chef? I inquired.
No, a potential hostess.
I stared at the woman.
She looked more like a bouncer.
Will she fit into the skimpy kitty cat uniform? I asked.
And if she does not, will there be a discrimination lawsuit?
We were consternated, confused, worried, concerned.
She are her feast daintily, holding her pinkies up.
Confident that in some way or another it was a win-win for her.
Not her first rodeo apparently.
Should one merely settle for the word ‘Style’
In lieu of the more appropriate ‘Guile’?
A secretary asking an applicant to wait for a while
But still not nearing this anxious file;
Letting the doomed document and others pile,
Sometimes taking this to a shocking mile:
Many false phone calls and not-to connect dial
Freshly asserting how Man has been shoddily vile.
Even when Applicant starts raving, secreting bile,
Feet noisily attacking office tile;
He, mentally wishing for the contents of a poisoned vial
Or resourcefully arguing his case, Fertile River Nile…
It’s all BUREAUCRATIC GUILE!