Jamaican me nervous that you called me into your office

Jamaican me uncomfortable that you asked me to sit down

Jamaican me dwarfed by your desk chair, who knew chairs could be so big?

Jamaican me vulnerable after you exhale deeply

Jamaican me speechless when you say, “Some changes are being made”

Jamaican me anxious about how I’ll get another job in this unpredictable economic climate

Jamaican me resentful that I just moved apartments so I could be closer to the office

Jamaican me worried that I will break your stupid, oversized desk chair

Jamaican me curious as to how long it took you to man up and “let me go” (your words, not mine)

Jamaican me hopeful that this will turn out to be a blessing in disguise

Jamaican me confident that I deserve more than an office job, I deserve to live the life I want to live. Maybe I’ll move to Vermont, become a yoga instructor. Finally become the real me.

Jamaican me cynical because I know I’m not that flexible and that I hate maple syrup. Vermont will never work

Jamaican me all too aware that I should leave your office now

Jamaican me wish that I could tell Jan to stop staring at me and get back to her filling out her quarterlies. You still work here, Jan!

Jamaican me see myself out, thank you very much.