We all have the highest of hopes for our financial gain when the time of year for our annual “performance” (because it is, indeed, a grand performance to swallow shit every day) review rolls around. We truly believe, even after all these years of being disappointed by our so-called “merit” raise, that we’re going to get more than we ultimately do. But the corporation is stingy and self-serving–how do you think it stays in business, after all?
Even so, without fail, we walk into that meeting with our most pleasant, come-fuck-me face on in the vain hope that our combined air of chirpiness paired with a hint of sultriness will help our cause. Yet, like our initial presentation vs. actual product, our attitude is doomed to swiftly shift the moment the little paper gets gently pushed our way with the new salary figure on it. We see it and want to both cry and scream. Instead, we pout in acceptance, ourselves made further bare to the magnifying glass of the corporation as it sears us with the small hole of the sun representing their power, watching the scant money they give us slowly burn while diabolically laughing over how little it can afford us.