The Opposite of Sycophant
Forcibly spending a week with you
was like attending a lecture on Jerk
You showed off its malice, its bally-hoo
in mincing comments regarding my work
I skimmed the lecture’s whole outline
having taken this class times before
it’s clear you think you hide it with saccharine
but your charms and your tricks, I abhor
I can usually hide indignation,
and play right along with the games,
but with you I can’t hide my frustration
you’re Satan finessing his flames
I can’t stand your insincere candor,
with students and colleagues alike,
it’s clear that you want them to pander
to your ego that rivals Third Reichs’
You imply that I’m stupid and lazy
veiling thinly the truth of your joke
through questions irrelevant and crazy
that make my eyes seem appealing to poke.
What made your curriculum so bitter
worse than most assholes’ I’ve known
was your critique that my notes, they did fritter,
any story or use on their own
You told me to read what you wrote
about the team’s patients and plans
You asked that I pare down, not emote
you’d never seen something so rambling, so bland.
This hurt more than the barbs you had crafted
since it wasn’t intentionally mean
for you attacked all that had lasted
of the me that med school wiped clean.
You couldn’t have known that you’d done that,
but I know it’d make your short self seem tall,
to realize you won in our combat,
with an offhanded comment so small.
Though I failed all your quizzes by guessing,
and despite all the spits and the swings,
This week did teach me one lesson:
You’re a dick and you don’t know a thing.