Exemplary And Lavish Extravagance
Aaah, Madame La Pompadour needs time off
from the office they had built her, soundproof,
air-con, and everything she wants inside, today
she plays chauffer to the children in her neigh-
bourhood and visiting her mother in the old-age
home - she condescendingly told us - though
there is really no need why we should know
where she is, she is the free incumbent
Madame La Pompadour suffers agoraphobia
at home and claustrophobia in the office, her
problems are debilitating; she needs a bigger
office of course, with user-friendly interior
decorating - I sigh in admiration, such a very
exemplary and lavish extravagance, with the
cool presumption that a James Bond would
envy her, she does what she wants
Madame La Pompadour looks down on the
mundane civil servants - us - who man the
open-plan office, why should she earn her
salary like a slave when she gets it without
ever leaving her home?
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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A Prima Donna
Madame La Pompadour cannot come to work,
the world is spinning out of control, her dog
needs medical attention, her car cannot start in
the morning, her dog needs another vet, now
Madame Pompadour's newly built office is
empty - it was given as a compelling condition
for her return to work, yet it seems something
is lacking still, can we guess what it is
Maybe a chauffeur to drive her to work every
morning, a special kennel next to her office so
she can bring her dogs to be with her all day,
maybe a built-in a humidifier so she can breathe
freely without germs, maybe a Jacuzzi so she can
get rid of the tension right here at work, maybe
her own cook and kitchenette so she can order
the right meals with the same aplomb as
A Lady Gaga, surely Madame La Pompadour has
already dethroned both Madonna and Lady Gaga
for being a prima donna who gets her own way!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Queen à la Marie Antoinette
Come, let us toast, today and evermore,
Madame La Pompadour - Queen à la
Marie Antoinette - of Civil Servants
When continuous absence without leave
was revealed Management refused to be
blamed and called her breach of Labour
Regulations a regrettable psychiatric event
managers prove they were innocent by
rewarding her innovative behaviour
Building her a new office so she can come
and go as she wants, accountable to no-one,
no manager thus in dereliction of duty
Let us toast the eternal reign of the Miracle-
Working Madame La Pompadour, Scourge
of all Government Departments
Teaching common, inferior civil servants the
meaning of her New Imperial Reign over
Labour Relations!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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See Not At All
The high and mighty lady who seldom
honours state office with her graceful
presence told Madame De Lafayette,
supervisor - off for follow-up tests
Still not coming to the office while the
rest of us are threatened with legal
procedures should we violate any
regulation pertaining to absence
Stunned by these double standards
some openly mimicking Madame La
Pompadour's haughty manner - the
Calvinistic work ethic of colleagues
Enabling them to do her work also, no-
body lodges a complaint; such good
officials, used to oppression for no
apparent reason other than
Management's inefficiency which only
intimidate the law-abiding while serial
offenders are untouchable - best is
to see La Madame not at all…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Sudden Enlightenment
Maybe telepathic messages between people
do exist, I felt bad, then received SMS from
sis - in bed, ill with something, leading to sud-
den enlightenment when Madame Pompadour
sent her SMS: also in bed, sinus attack
really bad, pain and incontinence
I should never have speculated about lack of
telepathic communication, sis is connected to
a bed-ridden Madame Pompadour, my feeling
ill caused by vibrations from those two - let me
apologise to the genies in the sky for ex-
pressing distrust of telepathy
Today I know everything we think and feel is
diffused through osmosis and picked up by a
sensitive medium like me; let me lock mental
doors, only keep an aperture open for my
lovely colleagues: Pollyanna, Heidi, Maria
Von Trapp and Wendy who said
All is well in Neverland, God is in heaven and
Madame Pompadour in her bed – AMEN –
Heidi replied - eyes twinkling with
merriment…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Tales Of Horror and Suspense
Madame Pompadour honoured us by graciously
informing the Department a terrible bug bit her in
the neck during the night, must have been Dracula
we immediately surmised, she a Damsel in distress
trying her best not to waste her time with the rest
of us plebs in the open-plan office, her door must
have been open and the evil monster attacked
perfectly on cue; mesmerised by the marvellous
adventures of our haughty Madame keeping her
head high while one event is followed by the next
incident; her list of original excuses is growing and
soon we shall publish a book delineating the lovely
progress of her exciting life, enlivening bureaucracy
with tales of Horror and Suspense!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Drives To Tears
Oh happy day, Madame De Pompadour stays
in bed yet again, it's been ages since she saw
the sun, her majesty's presence is required for
celebrations indefinitely deferred until Madame
appears again, the brightest jewel on the velvet
background of our little office universe
Since taking cortisone some time after Monday
she has been nauseous, groggy and nauseous
again today, hearts bleeding in sympathy - so
much pain and suffering in one lifetime, it is
unthinkable, all tremble as they hear the
news, trying to determine
What medical abuse could be the cause of such
long, wasting illness, it sounds like radiation sick-
ness, a malady of heart and soul, though she looks
glamorous and young when she brings a surprise
visit to the office, it is just a ruse, underneath she
is most terribly ill, need's a specialist's skill
To get her up again and then it doesn't last long,
it is quite clear good health is just a mask she
wears - underneath she must be hiding a life
that is just wasting away, driving us to tears
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Accountable As Incumbent
We continue to admire the example set by our
high ranking official at work, she stayed home,
claiming heated argument with siblings injured
her health, she is a mess; won't do anything as
boring and trivial as come to the office
As she gets paid a large salary and car allowance
whether she comes to work or not, never fills in
a holiday or sick leave form to declare absence
because she has none left - yet everyone else
is constrained to live by bureaucratic rules
We just sigh longingly and wish we were given the
same freedom to do as we please, never comply
with the request to account for every breath, to
prove where we've been and explain where we
are going, wondering how it came about
That she was elevated above the Chief Director,
higher than the Minister, absolutely beyond the
requirement to be accountable as incumbent -
maybe she is related to the Queen of England,
such a fitting description for our illustrious
Madame La Pompadour, her bizarre behaviour is
condoned and encouraged in our Department -
though her burlesque is entertaining, she has
failed to gain any followers as yet, we seem
to be unable to learn anything from
Her continuous barrage of weird excuses to
explain her frequent absences - what is
WRONG with us?
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Thus Sinus Said (Revised)
Poor Madame la Pompadour must have been feeling
so down when she tried to get up two days in a row,
despite the Bogeyman behind her door, but Sinusman
claimed her in the end, a terrible attack, so she has to
stay in bed, cannot join us in the office
Like Tchaikovsky holding his head while conducting –
scared of decapitation if he let go, she too cannot move
for fear her head will fall; so she imprisoned at home by
Agoraphobia while Xenophobia makes any movement
outside her yard impossible,
She needs a cohort of doctors and medley of psychiatrists
to deal with her extreme symptoms, can no longer drive
endless miles from East Rand to the humble Kingsley
Centre where she is employed; but she concluded that
her presence is a great privilege to be treasured by those
She lords over, so she will only venture forth when she
feels as glamorous as Angelina Jolie and as impressively
aggressive as George Eliot or Virginia Woolf
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Awareness (Revised)
Awareness of beauty grows lavishly while seated
among Jacaranda trees, green canopies caress
the sun with more divinity than mere words
embrace – it makes my heart swell in music ‘til
lighter than air I float off on the breeze
Luckily we are government officials anchored to
chairs facing a grindstone patiently; at least my
brave Calvinist colleagues are the most upstanding
people I have ever met and cannot be deterred by
anything as fractious as sheer beauty;
Hanlie spreading good humour & delight wherever
she is; Hermien’s unselfconscious efficiency graced
with the calm of a state secretary; June brisk, tone
always crisp, laughter infectious, smile as precious
as jewels hidden deep in the earth,
And the boss Madame La Pompadour is an exact
replica of ‘Madame Olympia’, staying home under
various pretexts so as to not sully her soul by noise
of the open-plan office, and me growing more like
Madame Medusa in ‘The Rescuers’
Driving is my favourite activity, trying to beat each
other robot, succeeding mostly; slow lane overtaking
when the fast crawls at a snail’s pace, enjoying the
exhilaration of evading other motorists, my liberties
sometimes earn aggressive gestures
I merely respond with a smile, blissfully threatening
pedestrians with amazing goodwill while continuing
this enticing technological dance, my mind delighting
in nirvana of a Zen-like trance…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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A Passing Glance
Madame La Pompadour took hold of
my document, an anonymous letter to
the President descrying him as well as
the Government, and used it to attack
the kindest of beings in the office
building - I saw red - went mad
Exploded like a bomb, shouted like a
banshee, jumped up and down, nearly
burst a vein, muscles tightening with
hatred - deep, red, deadly - welling up
inside me for such nasty arrogance; ‘tis
a real test of character for me
To be free to CHOOSE my actions - I'm
turning the other cheek since I am such
a cheeky person, putting my power be-
hind the principles I believe in, choosing
the path of dignity - ugliness never is
worth more than a passing glance
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Mystified
We are spell-bound, gripped in the clutches
of a mystery of mind-blowing proportions:
Where is Madame La Pompadour, why is
she still gone, why did she SMS on gastro-
intestinal upset and lamenting her
awakening at twenty past eleven
Will she ever return to the office again, will
Human Resources one day carry out its
warning that she is not an asset to the govern-
ment, receiving a salary for no work done; one
long, continuous absence while others do
her job, when will she look at us
Disdainfully again, with the assured arrogance
of one used to command and only rising from
her bed if she feels like it - not very often; what
excuse will she offer next if her health does
not keep deteriorating: buying a night-gown
for mom, geyser burst during the night
A tree to be chopped down, car won't start, dog
to be taken to the vet; she feels depressed
and must see a psychiatrist, she overslept -
like today, her list of excuses being very re-
petitive - How long will Human Resources
and Management keep us
Happily engrossed in guessing the steps to be
taken to deal with the situation, will they give
her merit for the most persistent absentee
encountered in government service, creating
a marvelous plot more complicated than
an Agatha Christie suspense novel
Reminding of ‘They Came to Bagdad' - a
young girl lied all the time, when she finally
spoke the truth no-one believed her - we
are all riveted by the unfolding of this mystery
fascinated and mystified by the daring
exploits of our own Madame
Showing cowards how to go once started
on the road to flaunt the establishment,
we can only shout encouragement:
Way to go Madame, Good Luck!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Brave Officials Like Us
We sit in the cold of the North Pole with
air-con on freezing, stoically wrapped in
our blankets and wearing wool socks with
thick-soled shoes - not fashion material -
yet we are all here in the open-plan office
except Madame Olympia whose special
enclosure, sound-proof - separate from
the rest on this floor - is empty
We suspect she suffers claustrophobia as
we ourselves would if we sat there, though
she has her own special air-con - can turn
it on warm while we shiver out here; in spite
of our ice-trap, we are here and she does not
even call with an excuse, the psychiatrist will
probably say sensitive people like Madame
Olympia are too good to mix with pioneers
Like us who can work in all conditions - Sir
Hillary would have been proud to have us
accompany him on his trip up Mount Everest,
we would have put all the Sherpa's to shame,
if we were in the trenches in WWII we would
have won the war single-handedly - so it is
easy to see why Mme Olympia cannot be
among such brave officials like us!
[Work Chronicles Friday - 26 October 2012]
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Donkey Life 4 Office
today
i was sad
so.. sad...
i my office
officer
bite me
at hard words
words are very fool
so
i am not cool
i am very hot
so thinking
my officer words at home
i did not sleep well
i did not eat well
next day
i am going for office
not a healthy person
with patent
on body...
on mind...
office life is
donkey life...
what can i do...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Donkey Life
today
i was sad
so.. sad...
i my office
officer
bite me
at hard words
words are very fool
so
i am not cool
i am very hot
so thinking
my officer words at home
i did not sleep well
i did not eat well
next day
i am going for office
not a healthy person
with patent
on body...
on mind...
office life is
donkey life...
what can i do...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Wasted Life?
it's home
school home
then home
office
home
office
no other places
to go
no other places dared
some white sandy beaches
for sometime
a trek on a steep mountain
sometimes
visiting old folks
no questions asked
but only feeling also their
sense of
loneliness
or lostness in this vast
field of humanity
poetry
walk in the morning
poetry
noontime breaks
siesta
dinner with wife
and sleep
dawn breaks
stunning thoughts
arresting the self
on what next to do
home
home
home
a boring life maybe
but i think
it is not wasted.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Work Chronicles Tues 22.11.2011
Mary Poppins is dying of boredom,
don’t know what Pollyanna is doing,
Maria von Trapp is bustling as always,
Heidi is diligently doing administration
Madame La Pompadour discreetly stays
in her bed and only moves to her couch
when vertigo and double vision abate
What is the use of finding the element
of fun in every job to be done when the
cake Mary Poppins enjoyed in the park
before riding the Merry-Go-Round in a
race, is shrinking her mind - here is a
mystery that would have thrilled Anastasia
Krupnik no end: Why did Mary Poppins
Consume two slices of cake and why did
she have only one sinus pill - since every
good thriller needs a murder or corpse,
let us add, though we’re sitting on the
sixth floor which used to be a hospital,
we have not seen or felt a disembodied
presence or strange energy
This Kingsley building does not offer any
respite from breathing desultory air while
wondering how to kill time to get to the
end of this day…
Mary Poppins – Me
Pollyanna – Hanlie
Maria Von Trapp – Hermien
Heidi (Johanna Spyri) – June
Madame La Pompadour – our very sick boss
Anastasia Krupnik – character in a book
series written by Lois Lowry
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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In Her Dark Citadel (Revised)
I am so glad to be led by Madame Pompadour,
her employees are irksome self-motivated prigs
dissatisfied as their central value, the ethic of
the hard-working Calvinist, showing a lack of
ambition; is trampled beneath Madame's feet as
only dishonesty pays, she is ashamed of her
underlings; she says
Madame Pompadour shows grand ambition by
sneering at work ethics and showing utter
disdain for everyone except her own arrogant
self, she spreads the bitterness eating away
at her soul by destroying work enjoyment, re-
lationships and processes, she thrives
on discontent
She detests the culture of her underlings, their
behaviors, attitudes, assumptions, beliefs; it's
an affront contravening her ideal of sharing un-
happiness equally; she stamps on undue diligence,
the unspoken, unwritten rules followed by those
coming in early, leaving late, making every
due date
She counteracts them by staying home, not
being on time, shouting at clients and service
providers alike, playing cards at work; this is
her way to fulfill ambitions her behaviour
proclaims, belittling everyone without rank
or status to fight injustice when she rates
them badly or refuses permission to leave
She runs her world to her satisfaction, no ethic
or moral principle is brooked in her reign of
terror, making a stand Voldemort would envy,
a representative of Nietsche's Ubermensch,
hooray for Madame La Pompadour - supreme
in her dark citadel!
[ORIGINAL]
I am so glad to be led by Madame Pompadour,
she says her employees are irksome by being
self-motivated prigs who are dissatisfied as
their value of a hard-working Calvinist ethic,
shows a lack of ambition in a world where
only dishonesty pays, she is ashamed of
her underlings, she says
Madame Pompadour shows grand ambition by
sneering at work ethics and showing utter
disdain for everyone except her own arrogant
self, she spreads the bitterness eating away at
her soul by destroying work enjoyment, work
relationships and work processes, she thrives
on discontent
She detests the culture of her underlings, their
values, beliefs, assumptions, attitudes and be-
haviors, are an affront that contravenes her ideal
to share her unhappiness equally, she stamps
on undue diligence, the unspoken, unwritten
rules followed by them by coming in early,
leaving late making every due date
She counteracts them by not being on time,
staying home, shouting at clients and service
providers alike, playing cards at work, this is
the way to fulfill ambitions, her behaviour
proclaims, belittling everyone without rank
or status to fight injustice when she rates
them badly or refuses permission to leave
She runs her world to her satisfaction, no ethic
or moral principle is brooked in her reign of
darkness, making a stand that Voldemort would
envy her, hooray for Madame La Pompadour, the
embodiment of Nietsche's Will to Power -
in her dark citadel!
[Based on an article found on the Internet, Voltaire's
Candide and with a reference to Voldemort, the evil
protagonist in the Harry Potter series by JK Rowlings]
http: //humanresources.about.com/od/organizationalcultu re/g/what-is-culture.htm
Culture is the work environment supplied for employees.
Employees are motivated and most satisfied when their needs and
values are consistent with those manifested in your workplace
culture. Culture shapes work enjoyment, work relationships and
work processes.
A particular culture is developed by the employees who work in a
company. Culture is made up of the values, beliefs, underlying
assumptions, attitudes, and behaviors shared by a group of people.
Culture is the resulting behavior when a group arrives at a set
of unspoken and unwritten rules for working together.
The manager controls the key factor necessary to add to motivation,
her relationship with each employee. The second factor is creating
a work environment that fosters employee motivation and engagement.
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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For The Rest Of My Life
for the rest of my life
i will take the same routine
home, office, school,
home office, school,
a straight life confined
in a certain space
too confined and too
tight for my soul
and too boring
for my body
home, office, school,
school, home, office,
you ask me if there is
something wrong with
my life? there is nothing
right in it, everything has
always been wrong
and everyday has always
been an attempt to correct
it, but nothing
nothing has fit into it
to cut the routine to
break me from the
chains of everyday
nothing comes and nothing
goes, i think, that is how
it is meant to be,
i think, i simply have
to imagine, make some
figments of stars, and moon
and sun and mountains
and seas and valleys
and castles and princesses
and kings and queens
and too they become routine
too, some poems and stories
some people that do not
actually exist, some imaginary
earth, imaginary creatures
they are all here, in this routine
of imaginations, of poetics
of illusions and allusions,
these lines, my life, these routine
and all my excuses, you and I.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This is going to become a battle for access to your home and office plus mobility. It's about who can provide the biggest and least expensive and fastest pipe to your home and office and offer you a mobility feature.
quote by Steve Largent
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Care For The Elderly - A Conference
They gather in the Greeting Place
A smaller flock than once expected
Still elated - out from work and office
All around - the empty space
Is pressing on the keen - collected
Taking pointers - out from work and office
Inside the hall there is small trace
Of anyone to ‘stand corrected'
They're all working - inside work and office
Still curtains drift - in finest lace
The certain eyes not disaffected
Hide behind the lace of work and office
And speakers high in group embrace
Speak on and clap in unelected
Fluffy tones of every Higher Office
The higher speakers high disgrace
Is hid below their undetected
Lack of use - their waste of work and office
In keening grief - tears hid from face
A speaker - practical - affected
Brings human life within their work and office
And human thoughtfulness will base
Its Older Care on need selected
From that shown - away from work and office
Its time to fix he High and chase
By methods certain - unsuspected
Out form power - out from work and office
Foregather - follow to their base
See them - incestuous - connected
By wires unseen - inside work and office
27Mar2011 CPR
poem by Charlotte Peters Rock
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