Why work names have changed is a puzzle to me.
Perhaps it strengthens workers’ views of themselves.
When did a receptionist become a director of first impressions,
A shop assistant, a brand ambassador, but they’re still stacking shelves?

How did a mailroom clerk turn into a document distribution specialist,
A cleaner, an environmental services technician?
A lift repairer is these days known as a vertical transport engineer.
And tree pruners are tree surgeons; a name change by their own volition.

Delivery drivers have now become logistics couriers.
A truck loader has transformed into a logistics capacity and flow planner.
The time and motion man has metamorphised into a work flow analyst.
A bin man these days is a waste operative, still working the same old manor.

Secretaries are no more; they are executive assistant officer managers.
A spark has turned into an electrical engineer.
Librarians’ job titles today are directors of bibliography.
A waiter is now a dining room attendant but is still serving food and beer.

What if we changed some of the names of roles we have in life too?
A husband might become captain fix-it or the couch potato.
A mother, the chief snack officer or the human calendar.
A teenager would be known as trouble on a go-slow.

A football fan would be called the VAR victim.
The man in the pub, the bullshit encyclopaedia.
A poet would be someone who’s swallowed a dictionary.
And a folk singer is someone who’s become much needier.