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There's nothing like a little snarky workplace poetry to make a girl wonder why she came in at all. I'll never understand the thought process which results in the following literary abortion:

To those folk who leave dirty dishes behind
I find it very timely to remind
No one is paid to clean up after you
It is something that the user must do

So to help make this kitchen a nice clean place
To ensure that for all there is plenty of space
Wash and wipe your dishes and put them away
The Karma you receive will lighten your day

To those who like to leave a mess behind
Sooner or later I am sure that you will find
Not a clean plate, knife, fork or cup to use
And only yourself who you can accuse

Surely the effort of finding/composing, printing, and LAMINATING such a godawful specimen is greatly in excess of what you'd spend rinsing a smudgy glass. But a person who can't find a consistent meter in a poem of 12 lines is no friend to logic.

It's the smorgasbord approach - tetrameter, pentameter, hexameter? Yes please! I don't know what you call a line with 5 1/2 feet, other than the definition of dancing to your own drum. Which you made from the skin of the innocent. That or you foolishly allowed an amputee to join your conga line.

Here's a poem for you, oh bard of the dishrack, which I think captures the office kitchen zeitgeist somewhat more efficiently.

I hate you
and myself.