I decided to write a poem with a title, and of course, with each word spelled correctly and the proverbial “[sic]” following its presumptuous explanation and indignant author history. 37 might be a cucumberous lurking creaturesque outrage to further understanding or grievance.
A___ough e_ou_ue__ _o_e___ … Yeah, not enough.
Without fail, my manager, the district manger always uses a phrase on our conference calls every Monday and Friday. I had a pretty good idea what it meant, but when I got the same phrase in an email sent to all stores, I knew exactly what she meant.
“Work smarter, not harter.”
Hey, it rhymes.