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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1808108
An everyday occurance during a holiday where I currently work.
As we’re stuck at work, on this holiday,
working for such miniscule pay,
we stare at our screens in an empty gaze,
with our minds in a cloudy haze.

We have no work coming in to do,
and our desks don’t even have a decent view.
We long for a chance to leave this place,
hoping to leave in a rapid pace.

We keep our eyes on the man in charge,
hoping for a signal, so we can barge,
to his desk to get that VTO*,
the coveted permission for us to go.

None has come, which makes us weep,
and that much harder to resist sleep.
We still have hope, which is diminishing,
and with every second that passes, more grimacing.

I head to lunch to nourish myself,
and return to a rumor which surprises thyself.
As I was gone, on my favorite break,
VTO was offered for everybody to take.

I missed my chance to depart this place,
and anger becomes clear within my face.
So I gather up courage and face without fear,
my manager, who smiled, and said “get outta here.”

*VTO = Voluntary Time Off
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