Francis’ Workday

Francis’ Workday
by Rosemary French

Touches up chipped magenta nail polish
Attempts to move file cabinet in order to clean dust out from behind it
Finds file cabinet to be too heavy, abandons that idea
Pens name tags for the company party with an elaborate calligraphic flourish
Frowns at name tags and their elaborateness, wads them up and starts a new batch in block print
Lines up personal paperweight collection in rainbow order
Clusters paperweights into two groupings – “animal-themed” and “vacation souvenirs”
Re-clusters paperweights into two new groupings – “snow globes” and “artisan glass shapes”
Commences deep breathing exercises (15 minutes)
Rides elevator up and down
Goes out to her car, balances checkbook inside car, returns to desk
Replaces empty jug on the water cooler with a new one (a proud moment of incontestable productivity)
Presses vending machine button for Jujubes (reward for proud moment)
Jujubes make a quiet thud at bottom of vending machine
Shares Jujubes with company historian
Inquires about when company historian plans to finish biography on company’s long-deceased founder
Returns to desk, stares out window
Playfully claps papers together in the air, appears to be having a contained fit of mania
Takes note of the fluttery sound the papers make when she claps them together in the air
Removes portable cassette recorder from desk drawer
Makes a tape recording of the fluttery sound the papers make when she clap them together in the air
Rewinds tape and records over the fluttery paper sound tape with imitation dolphin noises
Labels the tape “Sleepy Time Sounds”
Eats a bologna sandwich slowly, taking small, calculated bites
Thinks about the way the bologna commingles so well with the Wonder Bread
Contemplates buying pre-sliced low-cal Swiss on next shopping trip
Makes furtive sideways glances and trots downstairs to parking garage at 4:55 pm
It takes five minutes to get to my car, Francis reasons to herself
Five whole minutes

1 thought on “Francis’ Workday

  1. Rosemary French’s poem creates an exciting poetic language of private, convivial and convenient involvement with a rant on
    writing from her illustrative voice and heart geared to her own encounters and arguments of discursive reality.

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