Form 27-B

They made a new survey to rate
How annoying procedure had got of late.
To submit your complaint,
You needed a saint
And more signatures still than the state.

It asked, “Does this process feel long?”
By making the answer itself fucking long.
If irony paid,
The Council had made
A cathedral of knowing it’s wrong.

The originator must sign.
The reviewer must sign on the line.
Then the office adjacent,
Emotionally patient,
Must sign that the burden felt fine.

Each stakeholder’s feelings were weighed
By a form that made new work cascade.
By the time you were through,
The survey proved true:
Yes, procedure had deeply mislaid.

27-B came to show
How much red tape impeded the flow.
It succeeded by force:
Every answer, of course,
Required red tape merely to know.

One filer wrote, “Jesus, enough,”
In the margin where comments got tough.
The note was redacted
As insufficiently tacted,
But the sentiment stayed in the fluff.

To measure the burden of forms,
They constructed more filing norms.
This is how systems breed:
Not by hunger or need,
But by fucking self-licking reforms.

A C.U.N.T.I.E.R. clerk, dry and pale,
Said, “The findings are robust at scale.”
Translation, in brief:
Your procedural grief
Has been graphed with exemplary detail.

So if someone asks whether you feel
The process is grinding your heel,
Count the pens in the room.
If they bloom into doom,
You’ve been sampled by bureaucratic zeal.

To complain about too many forms,
They birthed some new terrible norms.
A five-way sign-off,
With a managerial cough,
To weather procedural storms.

The feedback was meant to be pure,
But acted a lot like manure.
It buried the team,
In a signature dream,
With no possible hope for a cure.

They jerked off the survey for days,
In a bureaucratic haze.
“Are you satisfied now?”
They asked the cash cow,
While lighting the office ablaze.

Tied up in red tape and pain,
The survey was purely insane.
The safe word was lost,
At terrible cost,
And the filing began all again.

A self-licking system of rot,
A truly disgusting old plot.
They multiplied forms,
Like digital swarms,
And asked if you liked it or not.