Oh. . . I Wish That I Could Be. . .

I must write this early as I need to be to the factory before dawn.  The CEO has called for a meeting in the wee hours, a celebration of the workers where they sit in a crowd and watch the big cheese on a stage.  It is truly an exciting day for workers when they get to watch the privileged and hear them crow about what a wonderful job they, the workers, do and, of course, how much it is appreciated.  This annual meeting gives the workers hope for the year to come.  There will be warnings, though.  Many.  Times are tough.  State regulations are making it tougher.  We face a trying future.  There is a danger of layoffs, but through the beneficence of our leaders, many have been avoided. Workers will be called on to give more than ever before, but they must continue to provide a quality product for their customers for less.  Less for the workers, that is.  The customers will have to pay more.  But the good news will be that we have many more new bosses, VPs and Associate VPs who have climbed the ladder of success, and the workers will give a rousing cheer knowing if they keep their noses to the grindstone, such wonders could one day be theirs.

Of course, there will be the grumblers and the company saboteurs, those perpetually pissed off people who have nothing but negative things to say about the way the company is run.  And they will gather in small groups and talk their talk until some boss comes up and then they will quietly disperse like vapor.

Otherwise and all around, however, people will sit and listen and then stand in line to get a complimentary boxed lunch and a soda or a bottle of water, and they will enjoy the warmth of comradeship and employment at the factory.  And I. . . I will think thoughts of factory glory instead of all those silly things I might have thought about art and literature and travel.  The factory. . . keeps me grounded.

Shit. . . I'm shivering just thinking of it.  I must get in the shower and do my ablutions in preparation.  I wouldn't want to miss anything.

Here.  You already know the Simon and Garfunkle version, but you may not have heard this, at least for a very long time.

They say that Richard Cory Owns one-half of this whole town
With political connections to spread his wealth around
Born into society, a banker’s only child
He had everything a man could want
Power, grace and style

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I’m living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh, I wish that I could be
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory

The papers print his picture almost everywhere he goes
Richard Cory at the opera, Richard Cory at a show
And the rumor of his party and the orgies on his yacht!
Oh, he surely must be happy with everything he’s got

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I’m living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh, I wish that I could be
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory

He freely gave to charity, he had the common touch
And they were grateful for his patronage and they thanked him very
much
So my mind was filled with wonder when the evening headlines read
“Richard Cory went home last night and put a bullet through his
head”

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I’m living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh, I wish that I could be
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory