I’m Working On It – Trust the Process
Every question has an answer, every answer creates a question
The boss is calling, IT stalling, suddenly the projects’ crawling
Fingers point while knives come out, chaos blooms in screams and shouts
Money slipping through the cracks, wonder who will get the sack
Desks aligned like combat bunkers, troubled faces wait the numbers
The masses stand, the guilty sit, the battle cry, “I’m working on it”
Words ring hollow when tempers flare, the interns cower, as if they care
The deadline looms and hours pass, the trenches of the working class
While high atop the ivory tower, men in suits defend their power
No cubicles or metal desks, not at all, they have the best
Wooden chairs with leather backs, tailored suits with trendy slacks
Yes men, yes women, a lengthy line, born from years of steak and wine
Pressure builds from down below, when sudden hiccups start to show
The delays are growing, too much to hide, the distant floors will soon collide
Funds are shifting, no pressure lifting, confusion reigns, focus drifting
An entire floor a teetering mess, the air stands thick with growing stress
“I’m working on it” a chorus calls aloud; some despair while others proud
Suddenly the sound of an elevator humming, frozen eyes, the boss is coming
Confidence erupted from his chiseled face, gliding slow to set the pace
Dimples from a knowing smile, grace under fire that went for miles
A well-placed handshake, backs were patted, calmed the ones who bordered rabid
Questions raised with true intent, he’s asking where the money went
Fearful faces and the excuses came, every person soon said the same
“I’m working on it” and then the blame, the manager could see their game
His well-placed sigh brought a stillness about; there’s no need to scream or shout
Will someone please take out the chart, the time-tested process was close to art
With every step, please name the names, what went right and what was changed
Somewhere in the process flow, someone chose to steal the show
A cowboy, rebel, or also-ran, thought that they could change the plan
Arrogant vision only they could see, thought they ran the company
Now every desk and every person, watching while the timeline worsened
Panicked looks and darting eyes, some look down, some at the sky
Which of you will take the blame, which of you will face the shame
The process is the golden rule, like facts you learned in nursery school
It’s honed and tested, we’re all invested, absolutely uncontested
Follow it until the end of time, or find yourself on the unemployment line
Additional Reading
R.J. (Ralph) Schwartz is an American poet, author, website owner, and online publisher. His writing spans several poetry collections—ranging from spiritual and romantic to fear-driven explorations—and even extends into science fiction. Notable works include:
-
Hope – Inspirational and Spiritual Poetry
-
Things That Go Bump in the Night – Poetry of Fear and Fright
-
The Lover’s Thread – Poetry for Couples
-
Poetry of the Human Condition – The Ups and Downs of Modern Living
-
The Secrets of the Moon (a sci-fi novel co-authored with his son Sebastian J. Schwartz)
Schwartz’s work is described as purposefully wordy, richly descriptive, and thematically grounded in nature, romance, antiquity, and forgotten histories. He writes regularly on platforms he manages, including The Creative Exiles, a collaborative venue for writers, and The Gypsy Thread, which delves into offbeat histories, pagan lore, and poetry.
- The Republic of Perpetual Outrage - March 7, 2026
- Thoughts Over Coffee – The Cereal Taxonomy Crisis - February 25, 2026
- Normal Was The First Casualty - February 23, 2026
