Metrics of Care

The metric confirmed contact came,
Then quietly borrowed relief’s name.
A message was sent,
So the dashboard content
Called the shape of support and the same.

They counted the visible trace,
Not the change in the person’s hard place.
A prompt and reply
Made the numerator high,
Which gave absence a measurable face.

A checkmark can say, “We were there,”
But not whether anyone could care.
The metric was clean;
The relief was unseen;
The distinction was costly to air.

The metric of care was achieved,
When the automated message was received.
We counted the ping,
As a comforting thing,
Though nobody actually grieved.

We measured the volume of sighs,
To optimize future replies.
The graph went so steep,
It made management weep,
Which we added directly to pies.

They say that the check-in of old,
Was worth its own weight in pure gold.
We click it today,
In the very same way,
But the legends are starting to fold.

The form has a box you must check,
To keep the directors in spec.
It asks if you felt,
That the sorrows would melt,
So I checked it to save my own neck.

The system recorded the strain,
And filed it under “The Rain”.
The count was exact,
A verifiable fact,
That accompanied nothing but pain.

We measured the care by the pound,
Whenever a human was found.
The data was sweet,
The coverage complete,
While the error was rotting the ground.

The dashboard reported the care,
By counting the prompts in the air.
The humans felt worse,
And started to curse,
So we printed the chart on a chair.

The metric of care was achieved,
When the human successfully grieved.
The number was stored,
By the governing board.
No further requests were received.