Why?

Why does your boss always feel That it’s you who laze around; While it’s he whose muscles always steel, And his work is always sound? It’s you who come that wee bit soon And work like there’s no end; The last to leave (you can see the moon), Yet treated like a goon! Some delay, you’ve had it good! You rake up reasons some. But these are never understood For your boss’s not your chum! From here to there and there to here You are always on the move. You are working sure, but there’s the fear You’d be told to “improve”!