Tuesday, 2 November 2010


I sat in the large room,
everyone plugged into their headsets
like lazy bees.
I was there for two months -
a temporary
Christmas job.

I sold Sky warranties,
but I didn't try too hard -
I'd preserve my sales
and have long,
drawn-out conversations
about BBC4
and Bulgarian orphanages.

'How are you today, sir?'
they'd all ask.
'Yes? Good-good.'
Their repeated disingenuousness
made broader compliments
rise from my bile -
such indifference to
simple humanity.

I worked with a cocky guy
with cocksure feathers
named Taz
who would sit back, smug;
prance around giving it the sales mouth;
I would sit there
and smile a deep, internal smile.

When I left for college
and my journalism course,
I told him:
'I hope you reach the top,
my friend; but don't
fall off'.

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