The Better to Assist Me With

Little Red Nametag goes on a walk

She's spent half of her day at her job on the clock

And retail pays well and it gives her a living,

But customer service isn't worth the penny.

She starts her break finally, leaving her post,

And struts down the street to the local compost

It's the only place 'round here without managers,

And although it smells funny, this one place is hers.

Yet Little Red Nametag's in uniform still,

And as she sits eating her lunch on the hill,

A lone baby boomer walks up to her mound

And asks if she could kindly help him around.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said with a grimace,

"But I'm on my break, and my sandwhich's not finished."

The old man grinned from ear to ear,

And said, "The more time to help me with, my dear!"

"But Sir," cried young Red, "you don't understand!

We don't even carry the beets that aren't red!"

"The better to prove your cutomer dedication!

Call your competitor; get a recommendation."

Red was so pissed, she thought she might scream.

"Go make your own coffee with sugars and creams.

Go do your own research on coupons and pricing

And just let me finish my damn cupcake icing!"

The old man refused. He felt so entitled

To time and attention that he was reviled.

So slowly, while chomping away at the bit,

She found him his beets, and, finally, she quit.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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