Diary of an Overseer
I got promoted recently. So weird!
One minute, they’re taking the shackle off of my foot,
the next, they’re handing me an overseer’s badge and whip.
I had heard that the company promotes from within,
but I never knew if it was true.
I guess it is.
So far, so good.
The folks I used to work with, side by side,
seem to have accepted me as the new boss.
I think the badge, and especially the whip,
are doing most of the work for me.
I haven’t needed to use the whip much,
but just the fact that it’s there projects a certain…
authority.
I mostly get along with my fellow overseers,
but I think we don’t see eye to eye on some things.
The others are adamant that I don’t use the whip enough.
They apparently all agree that I’m not going to last long at this job.
I get the sense that they’re laughing about it behind my back.
Last week I got into it with one of them about it.
I had just finished admonishing my team to take frequent breaks,
so they don’t get heat-stroke.
(shoveling is hard work, I don’t want anyone collapsing),
When my fellow overseer, Joe, tapped me on the shoulder.
“What are you doing?!” he demanded.
Oh, here we go, I thought.
I sighed heavily and said “What?”
” ‘Take breaks’?” he snorted, ” ‘It’s okay to stop and lean on your shovel’? What are you trying to do? Make the whole system collapse?”
“Joe,” I said calmly, “If these people start falling down from heat-stroke, what will collapse is our production.”
Joe started to show some anger now.
“Damn it, man, this is supposed to be a work-camp, not a vacation!”
Now I was getting angry.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, “I thought it was supposed to be a MINE,
and that the point was to get ORE out of the ground.”
“Which takes WORK,” Joe shot back.
“That’s what the whip is for!”
“Tell you what,” I said, “lecture me about how to get ’em to work when your production numbers are better than mine.”
Joe looked like he wanted to hit me, but I took a stance that made it clear that would be a mistake. He stalked off back to his team’s work area and resumed loudly abusing them.
“Y’alright, Boss?” said a voice behind me.
“Get back to work.” I muttered.
So it’s not ideal, being an overseer,
but the pay’s better, and my back doesn’t hurt so much.
Anyway, I’d better get back to it.
OY, FRED! Lift with your legs, damn it!
And get some help with a rock that big.
You wanna ruin your back?
