Except, it's been two years, two supervisors, countless other interchangeable staff, and only the same guy and I who've shared a workspace together for these two years.
Except he's not getting promoted, and neither am I. Two years, and two supervisors. We've won company-wide awards, in a multinational company; Earned raises, in a very noncompetitive market; Achieved certifications required for the work we do, in the nation we live.
And it's been two years, with two supervisors, whom we've never known – Two supervisors each, we've outperformed, outlasted, and outlived as far as the company is concerned. A congratulations, a supplemented bonus, and maybe an email saying we did our jobs – Is all we've really received.
Two years in the making, for two months in the busiest season our work sees – Without a supervisor. I'm next in line, and my coworker for his two years – Is next in line for my position. It's almost chemistry, how well things have lined up and to how things are supposed to be. (Perhaps in my biased opinion, and my coworker's.)
Except it's nearing close to three years counting, and they – The abominable they – Have made an offer. Not to my coworker, not to me – Rather, their third supervisor. Someone we've met in passing, true – But only in passing. A stranger entire to us, and us them. And the ever-abhorrent they, have offered this third stranger what would be our only steps to success in a vicious corporate ladder.
All I've come to wonder, as I get home from a very-late workday as I always do: Is this it for me? For my coworker? Will this really be the rest of my life? His?
Are we wood for a fireplace that's left to burn unattended,
unwatched as we're scorched in providing warmth and comfort,
and left alone to ourselves until a spike momentarily comes to poke the flame.
Until we're naught but ash and soot,
Echoes of our past and shadows prior;
And time comes for them to replace us,
As we've provided all we can for all they want.