I know I look like numbers to you,

but I’m  not.

I’m flesh and blood,

a complex being with complex needs.

I need a paycheck,

that sheet of paper you provide every two weeks,

that strips from your coffers.

That hurts your bottom line.

I work hard for you.

I leave my children for ten hours a day to work for you.

I do soul-draining, mind-numbing data entry for you.

All I ask is for my loyalty to be returned.

All I ask is to be able to live and provide.

Provide for my family.

While you cut us back,

and line your pockets.


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