Dear Legal Department,

Thank you for correcting me

with your unabashed wisdom

ever present vigilance 

and attention to detail

for outlining the priorities

and methodology

if in the event

I ever again find

one of my coworkers

lying unconscious

wedged 

between two filing cabinets

legs askew

half slouched/half supine

on the floor

and bleeding from the head,

If, God forbid

there is a future occurrence

of such dimension

and proportion

I know now

the protocol

to NOT first

call the ambulance

or attempt to revive

but instead to

FIRST 

call upon a member 

of the management team

to ascertain with a certainty

greater than mine

when and if I find

one of my coworkers

unconscious and bleeding

if it is a good thing

or a bad thing.

For it seems 

that I am a bear 

of very little brain

and big words

confuzzle me

therefore 

it is to be surmised 

by the braintrust

in the upper eschalon

of management and legalities

that it is extremely unwise

to assist 

an unconscious coworker 

especially one

who is bleeding profusely

from the fucking head.

Certainly I

a mere minion

amongst the cogs

of this grand enterprise

will heretofore consider

myself counciled, 

enlightened

and forewarned

not to tread lightly

if at all

within the parameters

pertaining to the vicious

whirlpooling sewer

inhabited and frequented

by doctors, lawyers

insurance companies

and upper management

whose elitist realm

we hourly wage hobos

can only wish 

to penetrate

with our greasy fingers

and unwashed mentalities

ipso facto rendering us 

woefully unable

to calculate 

the complexities

of systematic response

that should be enacted

when we find

one of our fellow

work a day apes

unconscious on the floor

sporting a pale complexion

shallow of breath

wedged between 

two filing cabinets

half slouched/half supine

and from a gash

upon their forehead

requiring seven 

eventual stitches

acquired during sudden

tumultuous descent

from consciousness

to oblivion

and did I mention?

the blood

being emitted

profusely

from the 

fucking 

head.

Thank you, dear legal department for your clarification. If I by chance,in the regrettable future find another fellow employee in peril I will:

1. Go find a member of the management team.

2. Inform them that a fellow hourly wage ape is in a state of the aforementioned 'peril' (i.e. unconscious on the floor, legs askew, wedged between two filing cabinets and bleeding like holy shit, oh my God! oh my God! oh my God! from the fucking head come quick! come quick! come quick!) and then...

3. Hand the member of the management team my cel phone because I'm sure I will have forgotten how to dial 9-1-1 and then...

4. Let those of higher position of the managerial strata decide when unconsciousness and blood loss is a reportable circumstance or when it is a distraction from industrial productivity. 

This sequence of protocol is now clearly embroidered upon my neural canals and thought wave frequencies. 

However....

Being that I am a bear of very little brain and big words and ominous circumstances confuzzle me, please be aware, that if in the unseen future, should I ever again encounter another fellow ape, coworker or otherwise, within the walls of this fine corporation or without, who is apparently stricken with an inappropriate lack of consciousness and even a small but suspicious smattering amount of head bleeding, I maybe could....I don't know....just possibly....like maybe....get a little.....you know, kinda sorta brain farty and forgetful about the approved corporate procedures concerning calling 9-1-1 for unconscious individuals bleeding from the fucking head during work hours. 

If I heinously fuck up by calling the ambulance first and management second, please forgive my transgression because I am  as aforementioned a bear of very little brain.

But...

Dear Legal Department,

Why do I tend to think, that once the day is over and the corporate charade has been sluffed off, the masks of legality obscuring humanity discarded, the vicious whirlpools risen above, that it were ever, God forbid, you dear legal department, that I were to find

legs askew

wedged 

between two filing cabinets, 

half slouched half supine

weeping crimson 

from a seven stitch 

worthy gash

upon your brow

eyes obscured

by pallourous lids

acquired from a plunge

into an unexpected loss

of consciousness

that you

in the following days

would be grateful

for my choice

of temporary amnesia

humanitarian propriety

overshadowing

corporate protocol

I will similarly 

hold no grudge

or think any less

of you

or behold you

as any less

of the astute 

dear legal department

that you are

if you were to get

get a little

like, I don't know....

...kinda sorta...

brain farty

and confuzzled

should you ever find me 

in need

of your compassion

rather than

your protocols

because we are

after all 

bears 

of very little brain

equally 

and alternately capable

of saving each others lives

and bleeding profusely

from the fucking head. 

With no disrespect to anyone and as always with all my love,

Max