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.