Magic Act
Thanks to the fact that the HR area of my employer is primarily Southern California-based we’ve gotten more updates, e-mails and discussion about the swine flu outbreak than we did about September 11 and the Gulf Coast Hurricanes combined. I always suspected that those events never really happened to anyone who didn’t have roots or relatives or a sentimental attachment to the affected areas. This would seem to prove it.
Fortunately they’ve reacted sensibly, dispensing five extra sick days to all employees which coupled with the elimination of overtime for hourly employees and the general morale malaise laying over corporate America did not result in junior level employees calling in “sick” on those nice, sunny mid-70 degree days over the last few weeks. Of course it didn’t. And then of course there was the genius maneuver of having Purell dispensers installed in the bathrooms right next to the sinks where you’re supposed to wash up after you pee and poo and whatever. ‘Cause that’s exactly when you need hand sanitizer, right after you’ve washed your hands, right gang?
As I’ve said a million times before (well probably not a million, but at least a few hundred), the illusion of movement is movement. As long as you appear to be doing something you are, in fact, doing something. I don’t think I’ve figured out much about life, but I think I’ve got that one nailed. Unlike the old adage about sharks having to keep swimming or else they’ll die, in corporate America all one has to do is appear to be swimming and that is generally good enough for survival at least until The Company decides they can get by without your particular paddling performance and tosses you out on your ear faster than you can say “What social contract?”
Some of the greatest moments I’ve ever had are those terrible, uncomfortable moments where someone else speaks the truth about this in a public forum. Recently I was in a staff meeting where a particular initiative was being discussed and the general consensus was that it probably wouldn’t work. Then one guy who probably should’ve known better spoke up and said, “Well, at least it’ll give us a good slide in the deck for Grubbage” (not the person’s real name of course). What he was referring to is a presentation that the higher ups have to do for the higher-higher ups (though not the highest-ups) about every 4-6 weeks demonstrating how the higher-ups are beating the bushes in innovative ways to generate revenue here in Great Depression II. Well, I don’t need to say that I smiled and looked down and the comment was otherwise met with stony silence by the other meeting participants who did not, perhaps could not violate the rules of The Game by admitting that after all is said and done it is, in fact all a game and fakery and we’re all dancing as fast as we can until we either get kicked out or don’t have to dance anymore.
How’s your dance going? Got enough smoke and mirrors to keep it gong? Make it through another day, another week, shortening the time you’ll have to live without a steady income? It’s a wonderful life for all of us poor untalented slobs grinding away, ain’t it? Ah it could be a lot worse. As silly as it is it all provides a pretty good quality of life, better than most of the world. So put on those dancing shoes and grab your hat and get ready to give ‘em the old razzle-dazzle everyone. It’s a long, hot summer ahead.
Fortunately they’ve reacted sensibly, dispensing five extra sick days to all employees which coupled with the elimination of overtime for hourly employees and the general morale malaise laying over corporate America did not result in junior level employees calling in “sick” on those nice, sunny mid-70 degree days over the last few weeks. Of course it didn’t. And then of course there was the genius maneuver of having Purell dispensers installed in the bathrooms right next to the sinks where you’re supposed to wash up after you pee and poo and whatever. ‘Cause that’s exactly when you need hand sanitizer, right after you’ve washed your hands, right gang?
As I’ve said a million times before (well probably not a million, but at least a few hundred), the illusion of movement is movement. As long as you appear to be doing something you are, in fact, doing something. I don’t think I’ve figured out much about life, but I think I’ve got that one nailed. Unlike the old adage about sharks having to keep swimming or else they’ll die, in corporate America all one has to do is appear to be swimming and that is generally good enough for survival at least until The Company decides they can get by without your particular paddling performance and tosses you out on your ear faster than you can say “What social contract?”
Some of the greatest moments I’ve ever had are those terrible, uncomfortable moments where someone else speaks the truth about this in a public forum. Recently I was in a staff meeting where a particular initiative was being discussed and the general consensus was that it probably wouldn’t work. Then one guy who probably should’ve known better spoke up and said, “Well, at least it’ll give us a good slide in the deck for Grubbage” (not the person’s real name of course). What he was referring to is a presentation that the higher ups have to do for the higher-higher ups (though not the highest-ups) about every 4-6 weeks demonstrating how the higher-ups are beating the bushes in innovative ways to generate revenue here in Great Depression II. Well, I don’t need to say that I smiled and looked down and the comment was otherwise met with stony silence by the other meeting participants who did not, perhaps could not violate the rules of The Game by admitting that after all is said and done it is, in fact all a game and fakery and we’re all dancing as fast as we can until we either get kicked out or don’t have to dance anymore.
How’s your dance going? Got enough smoke and mirrors to keep it gong? Make it through another day, another week, shortening the time you’ll have to live without a steady income? It’s a wonderful life for all of us poor untalented slobs grinding away, ain’t it? Ah it could be a lot worse. As silly as it is it all provides a pretty good quality of life, better than most of the world. So put on those dancing shoes and grab your hat and get ready to give ‘em the old razzle-dazzle everyone. It’s a long, hot summer ahead.
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