I wrote the poem "Experienced" in the early 1980's.
At the time I was working at a job where there were many women working together, and there was a lot of jealousy, rivalry, and pettiness. I was experiencing rejection from my co-workers as well as some harassment from my employer. Even though I liked my job and did it well, the pain and stress of the rejection and harassment got so bad that I dreaded to go to work in the mornings. I was in a heavy depression where I found I could not cope.
In the early 1970's when I was trying to acquire my first job, most employers were looking for job experience. In this poem I attempted to show that job "experience", which I now had, was not necessarily a positive thing.
Experienced
The sky was blue; the grass was green,
she walked, no, she floated as though she were a queen.
Her heart gave a flutter, oh, she was feeling so grand,
as she came from the school with a diploma in her hand.
She glided over the applications with all the ease
of a young woman searching for a job, eager to please.
Some wanted experience, some wanted it cheap;
others wanted beauty, but one job was hers to keep.
She set her mind to learn her present task,
to do it well, was all that she asked.
She gave it her best, and made many friends as well,
there was no way of knowing she was heading for hell.
"Two minutes you were late, you were sick once last week,
you made a mistake, were you asleep?”
“The coffee was horrid, you work much too slow,
if you don’t stop your talking we will have to let you go.”
She went back to work with determination and pride,
trying not to show she was dying inside.
Loyally she tried, but she only felt depressed,
for she found they were whispering about the way she was dressed.
Weeks burned into months, and months into years,
hurt into pain, and pain into tears.
Sensitivity was lost, and bitterness was gained,
a hardened shell was all that remained.
“You stretch your coffee breaks, you knit when we’re slow.”
the hard work forgotten when the work had to go.
With a heavy sigh she packs up her desk,
the moment to leave was a moment to be blessed.
The sky had turned gray; the grass was all brown,
people were grumbling, they want to leave town.
Her heart gave a shudder, her food tasted bland,
then she closed her eyes . . . a gun . . . in her hand.
Copyright 2010
Marilyn Warren
I finally ended up taking a medical leave of absence from my job for a few weeks. During that time I made the decision to give my notice. It was a good job, with good pay, great benefits, and a great retirement plan . . . but even with all of that . . . it just wasn't worth it.
