Corporate Suits and Corporate Lattes

My latest poetic effort; a tongue-in-cheek reminisce about those times spent in the corporate world from where the obligatory uniform of suit, tie, briefcase and filofax over the years swiftly became, no suit, open-necked shirt, smart phone and man bag.

So pull up a latte or a mocha, throw in a Belgian bun or tuna mayo sarnie or two, and see if any of what passes below stirs a memory – or a shudder!

Corporate suits and corporate lattes

Are so very corporate things,

Symbols of corporate success

And the status that it brings.

As we strive to climb the ladder

Following the path of chosen careers,

Fashions change and then come back

Once in every twenty years.

Yet one thing remains a constant

That with the beverage of our choice,

When we look and ponder the menu

We wait for that little voice.

The one that swirls inside your head

Every time you join the queue,

Latte or mocha, skinny or full fat

What a terrible dilemma for you.

And if you frequent the high street chains

They’ll like as not offer an inducement or three,

For to those wearing the corporate suits

There exists the aura of much easy money.

Now some may think I’m being bitter

Maybe consumed by jealousy,

That the corporate world is now way beyond

Where I once strived to be.

But nothing can further be from the truth

For it as a writer where I prefer to be,

Wearing my Saracens top and track suit bottoms

And holding a mug of Rosy Lee.






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