The Retirement Of Maybelline May

It was Mabelline May’s retirement day
It came on the first of September
And may or may not go down in history
As a day to vaguely remember

Some photos were posted on Facebook
The crew sitting round looking dumb
Centered round congealing Entenmann’s cake
And slightly obscured by a thumb

Would show them all awkwardly gathered
Their postures were stiffened with fear
To crouch clumsily to be caught in the shot
But hopefully not get too near

Conversations attempt reminiscing
Around a pathetic potluck
The best they could do was come up with
The time that the stapler was stuck

And everyone said they were hoping
She’d stop by once a here and now
But everyone knew that she wouldn’t
Or wanted her to anyhow

And so the clock ticked well past noontime
She stared at a gluey croissant
And thought of strained hugs, sticky kisses
She hoped not to offer nor want

Anxiety crept in her chest then
Until the point of downright scary
She scurried to the nearest restroom
Neath the sign that said See Ya Mary

Resolved she rushed right past the stalls and
Past mirrors and sinks she’d continue
And without a pause she proceeded
To crawl right out the bathroom window

And once her feet met with the pavement
Without a turn back she moved on
Cheap champagne flowed in the office
They never realized she had gone

This blog is dedicated to Bitter Ben, even though he’s not retiring, just flying the coop. Nevertheless, I imagine his goodbye party to be something like this.

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71 thoughts on “The Retirement Of Maybelline May

  1. Your humor really is glorious, the way you hide wisdom within it all, I just constantly go, “Omg Yes!” Through everything!!
    I’m stuck on your using of Clocked. The rhythm pur-prose, the multiverse of meanings…I could go on and blah blah blah about how much I see in what seems a typo, but even that little “mistake” has its own reason and being. Like I said, clocked has me struck, in a very very good way ๐Ÿ™‚

    • I like the idea of ghosting but rarely do it. I always think the most fun of the night is saying hello and good bye. I’ve probably ghosted before but only if I’m being ignored or not having much fun…like poor Maybelline!

  2. This one was so real, Marissa. My own last day was a lot like this. My party was a potluck and the organizer came and asked me what I was bringing. To my own luncheon??? Tacky! I didn’t crawl out the bathroom window, but wished I had the guts to do it. I’ve gone back to visit a few times and you’re right, once you’ve left, nobody really wants to see your ugly mug anymore… unless you intend to sit down at a desk and help them make phone calls. ๐Ÿ™‚

    • Ha, ha! Too funny! I was inspired to write this, partly because of Bitter Ben, but also because my mother -in-law recently retired and posted some pics of the party on FB. How utterly depressing!

  3. The party reminds me of school teacher parties with flimsy cards, small cakes, stale chips. . . Oh, that wasn’t school teachers, that was what room mother’s brought in on holidays to serve children they thought “too young to know the difference!”

  4. Ouch – the worst cut of all is having no one notice you’re gone.

    … and I’d like to know what company today allows their employees to drink champagne on premises – cheap or otherwise. Back in the “olden days” when I first started working, the company I worked for allowed drinking in the production facilities on Friday afternoons. That sure doesn’t happen any more!!!!

    • Ha, ha! Well funny you ask! I haven’t been around here lately because I got a very low paying writing job at an online magazine and then have also been writing for another online magazine writing reviews on music and the arts. All that has me so occupied I haven’t even been able to think about poetry but if I come up with a brilliant idea, I may be putting them in the blog.

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