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The wrecking of Wrexham

Thomson Reuters staff in Wrexham seemed happy until the shocking news that their new employer, Refinitiv, is closing down the 300-strong unit. 

I came across this poem they wrote for last year’s Wrexham Carnival of Words:


Britney Spears, Iggy Azalea, Ciara, Kelly Rowland,

all sung about work, often too rapping fast

to know exactly what they said. But here in Thomson Reuters,

no chance of song and dance, or phones to bleep our concentration.

We welcome the silence covering our private tasks.

Eighteen minutes to process a company’s finances,

fifty eight data fields to traverse before their status.

Better than Sudoko, this daily mental stimulation helps us ride the wheels of business.

Regulations, requirements, change all the time in the race against

a clock scuttering through allotted time at the corner of my screen.

I visit countries like Japan, Korea, China, USA, Spain,

hop through continents without leaving my chair,

one eye on the screen the other on the clock

my eyes on stalks, astounded how quickly time has gone.

Every day’s a something day, National Pig in a Blanket Day was on a Monday.

The title’s given at our not quite a cuddle, morning Huddle.

Ravioli Day was someday or other, but the Thai Takeaway Day

was cut short by the absence of forks. In five years a hundred have

dug their way out of the building. I lost my fork in Wrexham town,

It sent me a sparkling Facebook photo from holiday in France.

Is there a secret sculptor or scrap metal dealer at large?

In despair, I’ve locked my solo fork in my drawer.

Cutlery mysteries apart, with Fungeability cakes, the ability to talk or laugh with colleagues

and a hugely supportive staff I’d never work anywhere else. ■