The Professional Malcontent
The professional malcontent,
always sneering at creations they have not conceived,
at that which they have not themselves wrought,
purposefully ignorant of their own insufficiencies and “good enoughs.”
They find fault with everything and anything when others are the ones who are doing.
They are ill content with what they do not control.
If five people say yes, they will be the one to say no.
They will add a dash of salt to a pot of stew,
as if that would change the flavor or the chemistry,
hours in, after the real work is done,
and then claim part ownership of it all,
a success claimed with theatrical flourish.
Undaunted in their own private geometry,
they are oblivious to the shallowness of their own depths.
Even the abstract eludes them,
for they would not have done it that way.
Their self‑worth is defined by the perceived failures of others,
and the imagined successes of their own redesigns—
usually flavorless, colorless alterations.
It is the self‑interest of the uninteresting,
inventing flaws where none exist,
so they may stand inside the substantive,
a territory they cannot recognize.
They do not create; they criticize.
The perfection, or adequacy, they demand of others
they never require from themselves.
The distasteful aroma only they can smell
comes not from the stew, but from within themselves.
They call out flaws and imperfections only they perceive,
while others offer praise and share in camaraderie—
giving credit where it is due,
where it is owed,
and sometimes grudgingly to the “me too”
with an eye‑roll cast from behind.
It is nothing more than the half‑penny arcade of the mind.
The professional malcontent clutches that coin tight,
held in both hands against their heaving breast,
not knowing it has no real value—
nothing more than a token written on parchment.
They are content…
only when they are not.
Copyright March 2026 M. W. Van Dyke
All Rights Reserved