A Life In Sales

Another hotel, another town

Prices are up and sales are down

Seems to wear a permanent frown

In alcoholic beverage he will drown.

He thinks about his stressful life

In a Travelodge on the borders of Fife

Hides the booze as he skypes the wife

Her indoors or the trouble and strife.

Imagines his boss with a tail and horns

And himself with a crown of thorns

Had steak last night and is off his prawns

Closes the menu and yawns.

Can’t decide whether to dine alone

Or bury his head in a heavy tome

Sales conference next week in Frome

Will be drinking wine when in Rome.

Writes in his diary with an antique pen 

While checking the dollar against the yen

Falls asleep watching CNN

He’ll have the last laugh when.

The oldest salesman on the books

Got the job on his dashing looks

Now he doesn’t give two fucks

And will be retired by next year.