No one wants to take care of the little things

Business, as I have learned it is all about credit. Who gets it, who doesn't, who wants it but has no way of properly staking their claim; these issues are what big business is built on. Working at this bank for a little over a year I have seen people hired, fired, and those that have quit by the droves, fleeing their eminent demise before someone else could release the guillotine blade while the masses chant "off with their heads!" (How appropriate considering this bank is French.) Those in power take credit as they see fit and those below them accept what crumbs discarded their way as some sort of semblance of gratitude for hard work done.

When undertaking a project one must realize that there are several steps that must be completed before things are in any sort of presentable manner. If said project is large then many parties must undertake such steps and divide the work up amongst themselves as they see proper. This is where the issues lie. If I must toil at my desk in front of the cold glare of a computer and spend countless overtime hours sitting in the flattering light of fluorescent office bulbs, eating cheap takeout and stressing if all the details are in order, why then do you get to put on your nice suit and dazzle the boardroom with your flashy powerpoint presentation, ( that I compiled) and bright smile pearlies? How is this at all fair to me? How am I supposed to reassure myself at the end of the day knowing that said presentation was built off of my technological skills? This is where the power and fear comes into play.

A sacrifice should be made at least once a year. An example to those in your midst, reminding them who has the power regardless if they continue to have the ability to keep up with the ever changing business world. I hear your stories of strippers sent to your office on birthdays. I smile and nod when you talk about the days past when bosses were stiff dicks with a willing secretary here and there. Some where along the line the world caught up with you, we have since surpassed you and perceive you as the relics that you are. Midlife crises have come and gone, second wives and families have been started and you see your mortality in the mirror every morning as you hopelessly push the remaining follicles on your head around with a comb. We support your career, your big house in the suburbs, your nice car, your children's college tuition, and what do we get in response? Money, medical insurance, a 401K and the knowledge that this year it wasn't me that had to pack my things in front of my peers and shuffle out the door to disappear in the that sad abyss where those with black marks on their employment record go to rest.

I watched you fire him, you said he didn't contribute. He did his part, he took care of what you couldn't. His shirt was always wrinkled and his English was tainted with sounds of his homeland, he wasn't slick or charming but he did what you hired him to do. In the end he made no impression because there was never anything soft enough to imprint himself on because in the end no one wants to take care of the little things.