Cinder blocked
This was not my dream job-
pricing cinder blocks daily.
.025, .0315, .0426 x 500,1200
or 825 for 8 hours cramped
in a tiny trailer with 3 others.
Renee, busty, baudy, and loud
in accounts receivable an expert
at deception supposedly
working thru lunch had me
bring her take-out while making
personal calls never arriving late
as I got nixed for getting stuck
in traffic.
Then there was old man Bob with
wrinkled jowls slick gray hair
the sleazy salesman eyeing my fresh
from college body with Xray vision
blocking the doorway
making me squeeze past
his protruding belly telling crude
jokes with that guttural laugh.
Virginia, the boss lady dressed
in her proper gray below the knee
suits with eagle eyes
watching the minute hand of the clock
for tardiness and rule infringement
making My life
under the scope miserable.
After six months of this I flew the coop.
Went to lunch never looked back.
11 thoughts on "Cinder blocked"
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Engaging title and first stanza—many readers can relate to metaphorically feeling “cinder blocked” into a shitty job—and double whammy, the persona on this poem feels it literally too!
thx! Yes we all have had shitty jobs!
funny how those early in life jobs stick to the memory, as the specifics in your poem show
Fun poem! Glad you made your escape.
Love the last verse!
Shudder…”squeeze past/his protruding belly”
Glad you got outta there!
I can see all the characters
I love how cramped the verse is with numbers. Nice details as love your escape!
Great character descriptions. Reminds me of some early jobs of my own.
Great cast of characters nicely drawn. I often wonder how those early jobs affected us. Did they add anything? Most of mine had little to do with my life as I wanted it. Love this walk back in time.
I was ready to escape with the speaker. Well told.