A Symphony of Micromanagement
Oh, the dance of the managers, the masters of might,
Micromanaging the micromanaged in the dead of the night.
All to appease the ones above, a grand charade,
A puppet show where loyalty is weighed.
Gold, it seems, has tainted the mind,
Of leaders once sharp, now cruelly blind.
Today you may code in a tongue unknown,
Tomorrow, in another, you’ll stand alone.
For skill matters not, nor knowledge nor grit,
Only how well your whispers fit.
And lo, the wise ones, with wisdom so grand,
Have five vendor hands at their command.
While the worthy toil, unseen, unheard,
The bootlickers rise with a well-placed word.
Lies take flight like birds on the wing,
To the ears of the mighty, a siren’s sing.
A review they call it—oh, what a jest!
Not of labor, nor code, nor efforts expressed.
But tea, and talk, and the company you keep,
And where you wander when work takes its leave.
For life beyond these walls is a sin,
To be controlled, condemned, locked deep within.
But should success arise, oh, what a sight!
The chiefs emerge to bask in the light.
The toil of the many, the sweat, the pain,
Turns into their triumph, their glorious gain.
Yet when time calls to weigh one’s worth,
A PM’s effort is dust and dearth.
"You led the way, but you did not build,
So your cup remains empty, your hands unfilled."
And ethics? Ah, let’s not pretend,
Where whispers in chambers know no end.
With words that demean and jokes so vile,
Their laughter echoes down the aisle.
And woe to those who dare not partake,
For truth is a wound they’ll make you forsake.
Still, in this storm of greed and spite,
There are a few who share the fight.
Yet for every friend, a face you shun,
For daggers once drawn cannot be undone.
So hear my tale, let wisdom chime,
If work-life balance is worth your time,
Turn away, do not be swayed,
For here, your values will decay.
