Dummy Spitters - Do we give a

[Sprog]

The Indispensible Man

Sometimes when you're feeling important,
Sometimes when your ego's in bloom,
Sometimes when you take it for granted,
You're the best qualified one in the room.

Sometimes when you feel that your going,
Would leave an unfillable hole,
Just follow this simple instruction,
And see how it humbles your soul.

Take a bucket and fill it with water,
Put your hands in it up to your wrists,
Pull them out and the hole that remains,
Is the measure of how you'll be missed.

You may splash all you please as you enter,
You may stir up the water galore,
But stop and you'll find in a minute,
That it looks just the same as before.

The moral of this is quite simple,
Do the best that you can - when you can,
Be proud of yourself - but remember,
There is no indispensible man.

[Wood Borer]

Sprog,

Yours are the best words mentioned on the topic so far.

- Wood Borer

[RETIRED]

My boss (when I was an apprentice) used to recite much the same thing.

I couldn't agree more.

[ozwinner]

My boss (when I was an apprentice) used to recite much the same thing.

Must have been a fun place to work. :( :(

Al

[RETIRED]

It was actually but he was making a point to all including himself.

[bitingmidge]

First time I actually saw a bloke do that was when I was a foreman on a small commercial job in the early 70's. Only he was mixing a mixture of the now highly illegal Lindane, Heptachlor and a couple of other nasty things as I recall.

He was the underslab termite spray-guy and I wondered how long he was going to be on this planet.

The bitter cynicism that has long since enveloped me must have been starting to form even then, because the words of that poem actually flashed through my mind as he laughed when I asked him to please desist using his bare arm as toxic test bed.

He didn't, probably died a long time ago, and we still have termite spray guys.

So there another bit of home-spun philosophy from the anecdote bank of the bitingmidge.

On the trivia side the thing was written by a girl (I think) called Saxon Uberuaga (if she's not a girl he can probably fight really well) and I was given in some notes in one of my Uni management subjects, then it seemed to disappear for the rest of the century only to turn up again on a soppy greeting card. (The lecturer must have been a poof**.) **Note the term "poof" here is not used in any intentionally derogatory tone (I don't want to be the next indespensable) and refers to a person of any gender who is extremely learned, loves poems written by girls, and gives copies of them to building/quantity surveying/architecture students, to be scorned at by all but the most eurodite of the bunch, who take those words, and apply them while idly watching suicidal work practices.

Yours earnestly,

BM