I have just finished
working
on my appraisal
(at the office) .
The most
difficult part
is having
to grade yourself
on a scale
of one to four
(one equating:
fire me now
& four being:
you're lucky
to have me) .
Normally
I go for three
all across
the board,
but
this year
I've thrown in
a couple
of cheeky fours.
Written by my late son Oliver(1984-2014) (c) I have edited.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem