Drugs at Work

I just came back from the caf
with disbelief in my eyes

I thought, "what kind of place
puts drugs in machines
where there ought to be candy--
Nestle's, 3 Musketeers."

I know it's only aspirin
it shouldn't be a big deal
But what does it say
about life working here?

And what's the next step?
Intravenous cocaine?
From a drip bag at my desk--
Does this really sound sane?

'Cause when people get headaches
at work (and they do)
It's not from lack of drugs,
it's from working with you!

Yes, YOU-- not just the boss
who denied you your raise
Not just the weirdo one desk over
eating hot dogs with mayonnaise

Not just the vice-president
with his prime parking space
and the clueless interns
wan'dring all 'round the place

But YOU-- because you wouldn't smile
and never stopped to say "hi,"
because you were just too busy
You just didn't have time

to stop for one second
and talk over coffee
just five precious minutes
would've helped stop the bleeding

And you were there!
You should have seen!
Your co-workers aren't cardboard!
They're flesh and blood... they're real.

But it was easier to treat with drugs
the pain caused by other people
Easier to drink, make them forget
soak up comfort from the point of a needle

And put ibuprofen next to Nestle's
and Bayer aspirin; you'd allow these
Next week come strawberry daquiris
and maybe marijuana brownies.

So go back to your cubicle,
it's all you have left.
Don't come crying to me
when they empty your desk

and drag you out screaming
kick your ass out the door
and give to some intern
your place on the floor.

---

NOTE: Although the first vending machine I ever saw that sold painkillers was at the Syracuse Post-Standard in Syracuse, N.Y., this poem's criticism is not limited to them and could include almost all except my former employer, the Lowell Sun.