I'm working at the service counter of a
Big-box store, in an unavoidable extension
Of employment, instead of being retired,
After they eviscerated my pension.
I'm forcing smiles, and dealing with all
Sorts of customer jerks, all the while wishing
I was doing something else, less dull, less stressful,
Like playing golf, or deep ocean fishing.
The municipal service union job paid well,
And we felt like middle-class -- it all seemed
So secure, American Dream-like, until it fell apart,
And we joined the ranks of the screwed, the reamed...
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