I was angry. He was sorry.
I was listening to a lot of bullshit,
From a very talented guy,
Who was holding his race responsible.
C was a good-looking,
In his late twenties, with a winning personality.
Just about everyone marked him as smart.
And it turned out he would “show-up”… except once.
C had taken a one day leave of his family
And called my office saying he was sick.
The next day he was explaining to me
His cultural and genetic problem.
C was the manager of a store
That was doing well,
Primarily through his efforts.
But now he was running a number.
As far as the job was concerned,
We both knew this would pass,
And we played our assigned roles.
I probably sounded like a drill-sergeant.
Having cleaned up his day at the races,
We spoke about his home life.
Then I became the wise old man
With scripted words to offer.
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