On Thin Ice
So here I am –
God’s representative, so you say.
Christ, times must be hard.
He’s going to call me in, I just know it.
Probably Friday afternoon.
That’s when it usually happens.
And I’ve got no one to blame but myself.
Slacker!
Squanderer of talent,
Spoiler of skill,
Waster of ability,
Master of nothing.
He’ll have trouble making eye contact.
There will be silence, then throat-clearing,
then the usual platitudes:
I’m afraid it’s just not working out.
It’s not a good fit.
We just want to go in a different direction.
I’ll understand,
and graciously accept the final gestures
of common courtesy in these kinds of situations:
a handshake,
two-weeks’ severance,
and a letter of recommendation.
.