In Head Slave, humor, Office humor, work life balance on December 24, 2011 at 19:38
It is just you and two fellow humans breathing in the thin air of your surroundings. There is enough food to last you a week. There are also some random electric supplies that one could make into a radio or a sailboat, if one were Jimmy Neutron. But what will decide this arduous stay is will power more than physical resources.
Sounds like yet another season of Survivor? It could be. But for now, it is only a lonely Christmas in office. Some of you may have used up all your lifelines (leaves). Some simply don’t have much to stay home for. Others would not know what to do with themselves in the free time. Either way, you have to deep breathe through this one long day without going into a depressive episode.
Your Galley does provide a homely atmosphere complete with lights, a crib and a Santa (10 clams/hour). But instead of cheering you up, it only reminds you of what you are missing. Yes there are free rum cakes and ‘holiday music’, but that is the least your Enslaver can do for keeping you on the most special day of the year.
You want to walk out into a half day. But you can’t before you finish your assignment for the day: sending a Christmas greeting to all your customers, many of whom have only a casual acquaintance with English. Also you need to make the greeting ‘different’ as ordered in the two-liner from Head Slave’s fruity phone.
As greeting after greeting pours into your phone and on your computer, you just can’t imagine what a ‘different’ greeting would be like. You have already received the images Google search throws up in your inbox.
What if Santa was carrying a pitch fork or an i-Pad?…probably not in business communication. All you have written so far is: ‘Merry Christmas’ in different font colors. The spastic nursery rhymes and pay per hour Santa are not helping. Your concentration is further violated when Office Santa comes to your workstation and demands you vocalize a wish. You feel like a thousand little elves are dancing around your head urging you to punch Santa in the face.
With monumental effort, you don’t. You hit the send button and walk out. You realize that more than morals and dreams, what you have sold for a monthly salary is time. But at least you have this evening to salvage.
You wouldn’t wish a lonely holiday on your mortal enemy.
In Boss, dust bin, Head Slave, humor, Office humor, SlavesInc on December 15, 2011 at 01:40
Nothing says occasion like confetti. The last time you saw this species of decoration was X’mas. The last time you saw it in office was never. Any hint of out-of-ordinary scheme of things should excite you. But a childhood fear of crowds comes back to you instead.
You sit your grey frame down amidst the conspicuous party supplies. You figure it must be someone’s B’day or deliverance (retirement). After some time, you notice you are the only one working. Distant voices of merriment make you pinch yourself to rule out a day dream. As a slave-cum-reveler passes by, he stops to answer the Q on your face. ‘Haven’t you seen the mail? The Global Head of Continuous Improvement is visiting our office for the very first time!’
Your solar system stopped at Head Slave and Slave-in-Chief. But little did you know about the Global Head of CI. This is just the kind of Greater Evil that is unveiled at the beginning of a forced movie sequel (You thought Dinosaurs were bad? Now they can talk, and fly). The ascending and descending orders in ‘Sort by Date’ always confused you. Closer inspection reveals an unread mail titled ‘Time to Party’. You had almost put it into spam.
What follows over the next few days is nothing short of royal treatment. Red carpets are rolled out. Lights you did not know existed on the office ceiling are turned on. The relieving room is overstocked with tissue and toilet paper. At lunch, nothing but the finest assortment of local seasonal fruits is presented to the Overlord. Though all slaves have survived on plain old tap water all these years, only mineral water will do for Mr. O.
On one of his impromptu get-to-knows with random slaves, you too are part of the crowd. Mr. O bables away puffing on his stick as the drones listen attentively but without much comprehension. You almost shout at a fellow slave who throws a cup of coffe inches from the dustbin. The wayward cup falls just a couple of feet to Mr. O’s left. But what catches your attention instead is even more horrifying. Mr. O just dropped his stick and walked away as randomly as he had appeared. He didn’t even put it out. Having proved yourself a true Underling, you will not be so eager to please next time.
In Cause, conspiracy theories, humor, Office humor, Organisation, SlavesInc, true enlightenment, vitamin d deficiency, Wage Slaves on December 5, 2011 at 12:37
God made procrastination so we could sit around, admire nature, bask in the sun and never be deficient in Vitamin D. You would so like to do that. But having come eons past the hunter gatherer stage, you have to earn your living; simply being born does not count. It is difficult. Some overcome this primeval urge to bask and harden into modern day achievement. Others end up doing jobs.
Your profound insight comes from staring long enough at the most unremarkable of places, you desk. Littered everywhere are hieroglyphs of your employer and its ultra noble mission. They also make some serious profits. But that is more of a byproduct of their lofty ethics and dizzying ‘goals’. You may not remember what grade your kid studies in. But if someone slaps you out of sleep in the middle of the night, you can recite your company theme and pledge without blinking.
You are not a memory gymnast nor are you an exceptionally committed slave. It is just that the branding is hard to miss. It is everywhere, like the skulls on Skull Island. Troopers have their fatigues. You have caps, pens, mugs and even underwear identifying your enslaver. It creeps up on you till you are a part of it. And you play along; it is not like you have some great plans of your own anyway.
You do not resist when this branding is taken one step further. You are the first one to start wearing a badge of the new corporate logo over your breast pocket, close to the heart. Years of subliminal messaging has to be overwritten here. So you act like a good sport and give up thoughts of vain rebellion. At least, they are not printing bar codes or inserting chips in you, yet.
But you do make a note to yourself:
You had better start working for a cause of your own; else people will make you work for theirs.