return to the track is uneven due to an appointment where two blogs
Chair King and not cover take turns on a common theme here is the
No 1:
native
department poultry
The chicken wings were the things he spent more than I could afford to buy at the supermarket. Of head-hunters had seen in many years, there was the polite and conciliatory, the brash and neurotic, hypocritical, and even cruel - what we enjoyed sending you down the street at the beginning of January. I was free to all past, everyone had always thought of myself as a company still needed, able to make his contribution to the cause, but then nothing. A cutter all, without an apparent quality, an anonymous one of those who know what they are doing, but that you also know that he is doing and that's it. A good quarterback, one who comes, look for the bottom and put a cross, not Maldini. Yet it was he who put me off. It was in January, just when I was called and put on hold, alone in a hyperbaric chamber where I could get acclimated to the shit from that day I was supposed to make me familiar. A voice scand my name, syllables without regional accents or cadences, was pronounced by outsiders for outsiders. I thought at best, something like a proposal, but instead I was put in front of the only alternative. Dismissed for reasons of force majeure, no longer useful to the cause if not in step aside, thus relieving the company from a fatal salary in times of crisis. The cutter looked at me, then looked at the paper, I did not have to say anything, just sign and just cause as to borrow a period of global difficulty. Unemployed and with morale in heels, no boxes to fill, without access to the news, just unemployed.
The chicken wings I said, I ate a dozen, were cheap, a true surrogate of the world that matters. In a few ounces of white meat, bones, and some pen - escaped the chicken coops of the machines cleaners - it seemed like you could put my peace of mind. The trip to the supermarket that day was the usual, large and slow, so as to draw a trajectory of well-being, a way to deceive those who were seeing me, one more person to be able to afford everything he needed. In fact I continued to substitute my desires and my needs in those silly chicken wings that allow me not to confront anyone. No words, no relation, extracted from a refrigerated, as well as any of the socks in the morning, the chicken wings were the way they were sunken my shame: a catalyst for social failures. I took a box packed up a fund in Styrofoam and sealed with transparent cellophane, but then, in that deep silence in which I lived, came a voice, a gentle sound that now I was not able to distinguish.
" You may change," he said and did so with the authority that her white uniform, complete with blue cap, appeared to give him regardless. "You could move on," he continued.
department workers butcher, my dear girl, you know that things go well at all, you are forced by sanitary regulations to keep the hair in a bonnet of raw cotton that makes you look much older than six. Cover up in unnecessary packaging meat from factory farms is a profession that you chose, you've found sewn on because of your desire for independence, or that with a degree in literature nowadays you end up packing chickens. Do you speak, you medical science, but your wisdom is contradictory in place of proper diet group at all now. Do you think even you can recognize me in one of those usually referred to curse, one that has done what he wanted, one who does not know the benefit of the doubt. You know my dear, this is not just thrown away your advice to reconcile, to reconnect, to close ranks in a company now in decrepit decline, all your efforts will not be enough, no will not suffice. But all that remained in my head, framed in a silent embarrassment, I could only say "Yes please" also placing the container with the wings in the trash. Perhaps the worst thing was my own sense of hostilities, a languid continuous, dull, persistent feeling of hostility towards others.
handing the card I had dropped in the silence of a drawer in leadership, even my humanity, I could not recognize any form of solidarity, the silence of my sense of community persevered in a sordid war. Despite his knowledge seemed addicted to the thing, immobilized negative evidence. I become like those who now thought they could do without me and maybe this was to make the dismissal so unbearable.
I went home, I cooked the chicken with joy to celebrate and also opened a beer, I heard the vent. I was conscious, aware that to blame the birds in the long run is useless.
Vincenzo Far
for another change on Chair King
