caught in the crossfire

Photo by Sonny Sixteen on Pexels

I couldn’t take it
being caught in the crossfire
of these competing personalities
both petty
both imperious
and yet both oddly obsequious as well…
it made no sense
anyway, it was utterly unbearable
and to just sit there
between them
pretending like I was cool
like it was all good
like the backtalk, the gossip,
and the complaining
wasn’t getting to me…
ugh…it was all too much
and so, of course
I felt pressured to take sides,
and naturally I’m going to
go with the more sensible one — 
the one who doesn’t act outrageous
ninety percent of the time,
the one who actually helps
and defends me once in a while — 
but I didn’t want it to have to be like that…
when you’re trudging through monotony
and bullshit, tedium and abject meaninglessness
for hours on end, any little thing can make
the whole game a done deal, makes you want
to pack it in, right on the spot, without warning,
even if all eyes are watching…even amidst all
the watchfulness and scrutiny, it had to end

---

Garbage Notes:

So, I wrote this poem about a situation I was in well over a year ago. I was working this sort of temporary job and I wasn’t too happy because the chemistry of the workplace just wasn’t right. There was a lot of drama. And this poem is primarily about being caught in the middle of two people bickering over petty things all day long.

The worst part was that I actually sat right in between them. And they would constantly go back and forth at each other, often in passive aggressive ways. You could cut the tension with a knife. It was so bad.

Now, as you might imagine, I’m kind of a sensitive person. I absorb a lot of the energy of the people around me. I pick up on shit. Non-verbal cues, the way people say insincere phrases, all their fake expressions. It’s all so glaringly obvious to me. And this was just, like, an onslaught of bad vibes. I couldn’t take it…

The crazy thing is both of these people ostensibly liked me, and I liked both of them. But they fucking hated each other. And so any little nice gesture that I would express toward one of them, was seen as a slight against the other. It came to the point where every tiny thing I did was being interpreted as an act of favoritism.

This was a very stressful situation for me. I started to notice my work quality went down. And I was beginning to lose my patience with the whole place. And even though I knew this was a temporary gig for me, both of them were kind of stuck there. That was, like, their career. So they were staying put. No foreseeable change.

Obviously, I left that place. It was inevitable. It was never my plan to stay there. I got another job and moved on. But these two coworkers, always fighting and trying to backstab one another, bitching about who was doing the most work and who was slacking—ugh, I fucking hate that shit. Like, why can’t people just focus on their own stuff? Why do people always have to be looking at their neighbor trying to see who’s getting the short end of the stick?

Human beings can be really small sometimes. I think boring repetitive jobs bring out the worst in humanity. But I also realize that there was something about me that was reacting to this in a more exaggerated way than was normal.

They had both been there a long time. I was the newbie. So I needed both of their guidance. But I couldn’t get it, because they were in constant destruction and retaliation mode. It reminded me of two parents arguing. It felt like my two parents arguing.

It brought me right back to that place where you’re a vulnerable kid, and you don’t know who to side with. You love them both. But if having to express that love elicits feelings of jealousy and covetousness and outright hatred, you’re gonna be miserable.

This poem isn’t just about two shitty coworkers complaining about who didn’t fill the paper tray. This is about getting caught in the crossfire of a situation you had nothing to do with. After a while, you start to think you’re part of the drama. It’s easy to get dragged down into the mud and feel like in some way the negativity is your fault too.

We aren’t responsible for the emotion regulation of grown-ass adults. Even ones who act like children when they’re supposed to be keeping their mouths shut and making a living.

You don’t have to like people to work with them. It’s a sentiment echoed by management the world over. And it’s true, but they don’t realize that people in the trenches of crap work are like soldiers, like brothers and sisters, and even the slightest discord between them could cause indelible ramifications.

So what else is there to say? Be kind to the people around you. Complain less. Try to do more for those who share in your labor. And I guess it comes down to the golden rule, right? Treat your neighbors the way you’d want them to treat you. Simple as that.

---

Franco Amati 2025

If you enjoyed this piece, a paid subscription would be the best way to show your support. But if you aren’t ready for that sort of commitment yet, you can always send me a one-time donation on my Ko-fi page.