They’re calling you
The calls are falling through the cracks
All you can do is watch all the calls in queue stack
They soar past
The calls don’t match the forecast
It’s an attack, and today just might be your last
Let me ask you
Who’s watching your back?
Your supervisor?
His two eyes are on your scores, Jack
It’s a mess if you miss objectives
The nest of execs likes to press directives
All the reps are restless
Execs don’t get this
They don’t address the mess
They just inspect the metrics
I guess the stress gets the best of reps vexed
The next step’s retching – reject your breakfast
Every second’s getting monitored
You fret the checklist
So get a gin and tonic
Get set, forget this
Your desk is shaking
Nearly every call is escalating
You press release so recklessly
But all the rest are waiting
You’re hating this
There’s no break and so you shake a fist
You’re breaking wrists
It’s Carpal Tunnel
No debating this
So many pissed reps
What – there’s no wrist wrests?
No wonder satisfaction’s going under
It’s distress
The next step?
Get your self-respect back
The future of your neck and back health is jet black
NOTE: The effect of the above rap is intensified if, while singing out the lyrics, you proceed to raise your hands in the air, and wave them like you just don’t care.
DOCTOR’S NOTE: Greg is currently being treated for a severe case of Rapilepsy – a rare condition that causes him to break into spontaneous rhyme with little to no regard for his safety or his readership. He should be back to writing normal prose by next week, assuming he takes his medication and stops listening to Eminem.
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