My boss came in at 10:20 this morning, left for lunch at 11:30 and still isn't back at 1:48. This is normal. The guy is never here. He might be looking for another job. Lord knows I am. But the question remains- will my next job be any better than this one? Will I ever be happy working for someone else?
I was talking to knitsybitsycycler yesterday about how we're part of a whole generation rife with creative people who are stuck in office environments where they fundamentally don't belong. These are people who have taken cross-trained artistic abilities to a new level-they're often irritatingly talented in a whole pantheon of disciplines, with gifts in painting, drawing, photography, design, writing, music and general crafts. And they're not doing any of these things. They're sitting, usually in a cubicle, in some warehouse like environment where they are churning out uninspiring crap that doesn't matter for people who don't appreciate them. Don't get me wrong, I don't think most people enjoy the modern job market, whether or not they have artistic tendencies. But for those who do, I think the pain is taken to a new level, an uber pain if you will.
I told knitsybitsy that we're like veal cattle-young and semi-maleable big-eyed calfs penned into our little boxes, where our muscles atrophy, our coats lose their luster and our bleating becomes softer and softer until we finally go quiet.
This is not ok, people.
The worst thing for me is I have no solutions. I like to think of myself as a fairly skilled strategist but I have beaten my head against this issue until it was nothing but a mass of emotional scar tissue and I can tell you I've got nuthin'. Or rather, I have some ideas but they all scare me and the last time I up and quit to go out on my own I started crapping myself and was diagnosed with a chronic disease.
What I do know, however, what I'm sure of, is that we can't stop bleating. It might sound like just so much whining to the untrained ear but I am set on this point- keep bleating. Keep talking. Keep screaming until your voice is strained and hoarse but don't go quiet. Beat on the wall with sticks if you must-just keep making noise. Don't quietly accept this shit and tell yourself that this is just how things are. Nothing good has come in this world by just accepting things. Change comes from unrest and agitation.
So agitate.
I was talking to knitsybitsycycler yesterday about how we're part of a whole generation rife with creative people who are stuck in office environments where they fundamentally don't belong. These are people who have taken cross-trained artistic abilities to a new level-they're often irritatingly talented in a whole pantheon of disciplines, with gifts in painting, drawing, photography, design, writing, music and general crafts. And they're not doing any of these things. They're sitting, usually in a cubicle, in some warehouse like environment where they are churning out uninspiring crap that doesn't matter for people who don't appreciate them. Don't get me wrong, I don't think most people enjoy the modern job market, whether or not they have artistic tendencies. But for those who do, I think the pain is taken to a new level, an uber pain if you will.
I told knitsybitsy that we're like veal cattle-young and semi-maleable big-eyed calfs penned into our little boxes, where our muscles atrophy, our coats lose their luster and our bleating becomes softer and softer until we finally go quiet.
This is not ok, people.
The worst thing for me is I have no solutions. I like to think of myself as a fairly skilled strategist but I have beaten my head against this issue until it was nothing but a mass of emotional scar tissue and I can tell you I've got nuthin'. Or rather, I have some ideas but they all scare me and the last time I up and quit to go out on my own I started crapping myself and was diagnosed with a chronic disease.
What I do know, however, what I'm sure of, is that we can't stop bleating. It might sound like just so much whining to the untrained ear but I am set on this point- keep bleating. Keep talking. Keep screaming until your voice is strained and hoarse but don't go quiet. Beat on the wall with sticks if you must-just keep making noise. Don't quietly accept this shit and tell yourself that this is just how things are. Nothing good has come in this world by just accepting things. Change comes from unrest and agitation.
So agitate.
3 comments:
I just wrote a blog entry commanding everyone to appreciate their fucking lives, but I'm pro bleating when it comes to crappy office jobs. Besides, you bleat so eloquently.
BLLLLLEEEEAAAAAAAATTTTTTT!! I just got out of an interview for another job within my current company. We won't go as far as to say it would be a DEmotion, but it's a nice side step that will get me out of a cube and into a basement (literally). What I'm wondering is, will anyone hear my screams from below? Perhaps it will be darker so as to hide my "negative body language." One can only hope.
After doing the corporate thing for 13 years now, I find myself (somehow) outside the system. I just sit, all day in my work room, designing crappy display materials (for crappy bands,) without a care.
I walk out of my work room to take fake poos and read a few chapters of a book, grab that late day cup of coffee (that will inhibit my sleep,) and I notice nothing.
I'm not affected by sales calls, release sheets, answering phones, memo typing, and I rarely succumb to the minute to minute anxiety that seems to provide the pulse to the office.
Am I immune, because I'm kinda a grandpa there, or is it that I've learned to stop caring and occasionally enjoy my work.
Yes.
That and I'm too lazy to start my own company.
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