Tag Archives: job

I can #interviews

My tux folds on me like boxes in a warehouse,
And my tie blends in the picture, not even a fibre
Seems out of place, and my mind is ready.

Yessir, I can pivot Excel tables, and make them do hand stands,
And watch the data seek goals on football pitches with vlookups.

Yessir, I can animate the entrance and exit of Powerpoint
During a presentation by the boss, with charts and SmartArt

Yessir, my Python would swallow your bugs in the libraries
And in the HTML of the pages looping until break

Yessir, I can troubleshoot the engine performance with gun in hand,
Aiming for the injection timing, with no backlash, from a gear train

Yessir, the transistors have transited in the back of my brain before,
And I see most CMOS circuit victory boards with my names on them

Yessir, I can sell a salesperson to a salesperson, and close the deal
With bang, starting a big cycle of upward scaling income in a single comma

Yessir, I can audit your processes like an Audi at a T picking left or right,
And discern where you earn, where you burn, and what you should therefore learn

Yessir, I can lead your team, but still leave them feeling light, which they can
Follow to make you more successful, I’d lead you to a new dawn too, if you let me.

Yessir, I can do anything, and I can do something, and
(on request) even nothing,
I fit the bill, I’ll fit the role,
Just say you’ll make me a piece of you.

(c) nyonglema

Tired #workDay #9to5 #labour #job #fatigue

Pins are pricking my poor body;
It’s night and the owls are gone.
The roar of horsepower have replaced their song,
And night is now a lonely toddy.

8 hours on farming my payroll eagerly,
With sweat and tear; each minute is scarce.
So rushing around the hive, looking for my fares
I don’t feel pins pushing into my day’s load stealthily.

As the night crawls in, and the boss calls out;
And the office shrinks, and the lights go out,
And the files pile up, and litter sleeps about,
My face sinks as this routine goes day-in day-out.

Don’t think wrong, my love’s my job;
But just like Job asking the Maker about woes,
I scratch my pain, stretch my back and nurse my throes,
And watch these pins sinking in like desert drops.

At last at home, lying on a couch to think
And scribble my thoughts in a big blot of ink,
I start to feel the pins relish as they sink
The pain of fatigue into each one of my limbs.

(c) Nyonglema