R-E-S-P-E-C-T

It probably isn't a mystery to anyone that most coporate-type environments are run like African villages. At least, that's been my experience over the years. The women in the office hustle around all day getting sh*t done and the higher ups, mostly men, sit under the proverbial tree drinking palm wine until they cannot stand up. The whole time waving their arms around, yelling out an order or two, talking politics and gambling. Never, of course, offering up praise or, in most cases, help.

It's a sad metaphor, but so far, I have yet to see it any differently.

Many of us worker bees, in addition to the heavy workload, also have babies (figurative or literal) strapped to our backs, and when we return to our respective villages from a long day "in the fields" we are expected to prepare meals, issue tasks, scrub the children clean, address the dwindling sexual needs of the dominant male, and then, with not an ounce of energy left in us, fall into a dead sleep, only to do the whole thing over again the next day.

Sounds like fun, right?

This would, by the way, be a good time to give a shout out to the non-corporate gents who abstain from the palm wine and make it a point to shoulder at least half of the burden of life and work with the women. You are the rock upon which your children can comfortably lean. Here, here!

I recently resigned from the dysfunctional village. It wasn't for lack of love or lack of work ethic, but there comes a point when the sun blares too hot, the day is too long and the children are too neglected.

Yes, I am speaking in metaphorical code here, but it has a nice ring to it!

Or, there comes a day, when you are driving home from a long, long day at work, and the men under the tree decide that, in addition to your workload, they will throw coconuts at you and see if you can deflect them before they hit you square in the head. That is the a-ha moment.

At least, that was my a-ha moment. There is something wrong with popping two extra strength Tylenol, four Bayers, a Zantac pill and three Kava Kava every day just to make it through the morning. Washing it all down with a coffee you barely have time to drink and then somehow, being productive amidst insult, injury and flourescent lights.

Again, a bit metaphorical. My a-ha moment really took hold when I noticed the gray tinge to my colleagues' faces, and when I realized that I was training my future boss.

I guess I just can't swallow that much sh*t pie. It doesn't go so well with the breakfast cocktail of pain relievers and mood stabilizers. I generally like pie, but not that kind.

Ironically, I loved my role in the village. I ignored the men laying under trees and learned so much from the other worker bees and the amazing people just outside of the hive.

It's off to a new village, I suppose. Hopefully the chief is sober and the trees aren't for loitering.