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Archive for the ‘Big Brother’ Category

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Time and Pressure

In Big Brother, Office humor, SlavesInc, Training on December 18, 2012 at 03:16

It is 10 pm. The belly is empty, the back limp and the mind is a mess. The stale air and the cheap biscuits have sapped your vitality. But Yoda is still going strong. To say that he was born to do this is an understatement. To ask why you were born is tempting depression.

Image

There is hope though. At this point, you will cling to even a whisper carried on a feather. It comes from Yoda himself. It is in the form of suggestions (surprise!).

‘It has been a long day. I suggest you head back to your rooms, take a nice hot shower. Enjoy the dinner and head for the beach. The waves look so calming under the moon. Then come back and get a solid night’s sleep. Wake up to a continental breakfast. One should breakfast like a king they say. Enjoy it at leisure and come back to the workshop at 9 am. Somewhere in the middle find a few minutes to get around to the assignment which is…’

It takes Y more than a couple of minutes just to tell you what the assignment is. And it takes more than a couple of moments for the joke to sink in. In this state of dashed hopes and compromised reflexes, you spend the next few hours burning the midnight bio fuel.

Somewhere over the past couple of decades, companies have come to believe that the only way slaves can learn is under high levels of stress, under a state of mental and physical agony, sort of like training mules with spurs. Only here, the mules get to take notes.

pavlov_conditioning_dogs

To make it interesting, Y has made a wager with teams competing for points and cash. It is your very own Big Brother experience. With each passing session, stress levels rise and civil conduct falls.

RISE OF THE PLANET OF THE APES

It is 10 am. The belly is stuffed, the back stiff and the mind is staffed. During a particularly crisp morning session, a fellow slave and sufferer seems to be at the frayed ends. Let’s call him Mr. M. After several failed attempts at making a point, M seems so restless you start hoping he doesn’t have a gun under the table. By now, everyone except Y knows he is dying to share something with the group. At first you feel: ‘Another poser.’ Then you get mildly irritated by his cries for attention. But now, with his eyeballs almost popping out, you feel vaguely curious about this piece of information that he just cannot keep to himself. Yoda finally relents and invites M to share.

“SIR, PLEASE SIR…URGENT BIO BREAK SIRR!”

Yoda magnanimously waves him out. As fellow boot campers burst out laughing, M bursts out of the room. To save a few preciously painful seconds M undoes his fly on his jaunt out of the gas chamber. You can only hope he made it to the Promised Land well contained.

Super Pee

Time and pressure can move mountains. If the only thing time and pressure of slavery move for you is your hairline, you need to rethink your game plan.

-          J.

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Slavetopia

In Big Brother, humor, SlavesInc on August 25, 2012 at 19:02

‘Who wants to slave away all their life?’

‘Not me.’

‘If on a year or two’s investment, you get to sit back and relax for the rest of your life, isn’t it worth it?’

‘Off course it is.’

‘Then why hold back?’

‘Coz it sounds like a Ponzy scheme.’

‘See, I spend just 10% of my time in selling. The rest of my time is concentrated on building a team.’

‘And what does your team do?’

‘They recruit more people.’

…

You couldn’t even say ‘I rest my case.’ Mr. B seemed to have drifted beyond the perimeter of reason.

They got to him. It was probably Mr. A that bit him. A had been babbling about this scheme for almost a year. This is like Zombie Apocalypse without the special effects.

Mr. B was one of the smartest Slaves you knew. So you decide to humor him. You decide to actually go to these ‘Seminars’ that Mr. B spoke about. Best case scenario, you will be able to save him from the brink. Worst case scenario, you will be sold to the idea yourself but atleast you will have something to believe in.

It is scarily similar to what you had imagined it would be like. Big posters everywhere. Participants looking so happy and chirpy you would think they were drugged. Aerated drinks masquerading as fruit juices, continuous subliminal announcements and…branded merchandise.

Mr. B seems to have blended right in with other Slaves from other Galleys, all exuberant on a mirage of freedom. When the ‘training sessions’ finally start, the attention and interest is staggering. If only these guys had been so rapt in school, they wouldn’t have to be here.

Between all the forms you have filled so far, you have already had to give away more details than you would have to if you were jailed for murder! It seems the longer you stay, more your chances of becoming one of them. As a precaution, you decide not to consume any of the food and drink.

So far, the Seminar has hit all the check marks for a scam in your book:

1. Greatest thing since sliced bread

2. Good for everybody including housewives and students, may be even your dog

3. ‘We sell everything, from underwear to Life Insurance.’

4. No disadvantages whatsoever

5. Plans for World Domination

and

6. A joining fee

So you decide to make a run for it. You don’t even deem it necessary to say goodbye to Mr. B, he is one of them now.

Rather than doing business yourself, you are giving business to people who are in the business of making you feel like you are doing business! If Slave driving has a future, this is it, Slavery on auto-pilot.

Mr. B may have found something to believe in but you already have your Clarion call:

Have the kahunas to break free on your own or go down fighting.

- J.

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Independence Day

In Big Brother, Office humor, SlavesInc on August 15, 2012 at 16:47

The Security Guard at the gate waves at you as you arrive. You groan for you have probably forgotten your dog collar at home again. But the Guard has a smile on his face which you return with frown. He hands something over to you.

It is a tiny flag! Once again, your reluctance to use the calendar has left you unaware. It is Independence Day silly. And what better place to celebrate it than in the galley? Everyone else including the receptionist is dressed in national colours. It is like you have wandered back stage at a circus and are feeling under-dressed or you are caught in a time warp in a sci-fi movie where only you appear in black and white. You have to unmark admin e-mails from the Spam folder.

You dig into the trash folder and discover that today is; indeed, day of Independence Day celebrations for the Slaves. Little flags everywhere that will be in the dust bin or under foot tomorrow, tri-coloured desert at lunch and what’s more, a fashion show to adjudge the most garishly dressed zealot. If only you had signed up for the army, you wouldn’t have had to see this day of plastic patriotism.

The mail from your socially aware admin dept. also states that at 5 pm sharp, we shall all rise to the national anthem. ‘Stand up wherever yo are,’ it says. To ensure compliance, a .mp3 file is also attached. It is supposed to go off at the designated time preceded by a meeting reminder. Off course, none of this goes according to plan. More mails follow instructing you to open the file yourself and directing you to web pages to update your Media player.

When it finally does go off, all workstations are out-of-sync. In addition to the annoying loop on the track, it makes for one big racket. You can’t take the fashion show after this, you may end up shooting someone. So you walk out, exercising the freedom of flexi-timings.

To make sense out of this holiday of irony, you have to watch one of your favourite movies again:

Network, 1976:

‘There is no America. There is no democracy. There is only IBM, and ITT, and AT&T, and DuPont, Dow, Union Carbide, and Exxon. Those are the nations of the world today… And our children will live, Mr. Beale, to see that… perfect world… in which there’s no war or famine, oppression or brutality. One vast and ecumenical holding company, for whom all men will work to serve a common profit, in which all men will hold a share of stock. All necessities provided, all anxieties tranquilized, all boredom amused.’

- J.

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Help us ‘Serve’ You Better

In Big Brother, Boss, humor on July 13, 2012 at 04:39

‘So you see yourself taking up more responsibility over the next couple of years?’

‘Positively, Sir.’

‘Are you sure you will stay here that long?’

‘…Yes.’

‘What about a sense of belonging?’

‘A sense of what?’

‘You know, belonging. I think it is very important for you.’

‘Err…yes, yes off course. I totally belong here.’

‘Hmm…’

You never took HS to be so perceptive or even coherent. And here he is reading your thoughts!

But hold that thought!

…You should have been tipped off a long time ago. You’re naiveté astounds you. What were you thinking filling up that survey? You should have known when the website’s masthead read ‘Survey Monkey’. But you kept clicking any way, you conformist Primate! Now they have made a monkey out of you!

‘…I certainly hope you mean what you are saying,’ HS goes on in an ‘I know what you did last summer’ tone. The mix of anger, frustration and entrapment you are feeling right now is hard to mask. You should probably have a name for this feeling for you experience it way too often.

‘Absolutely Sir,’ you gurgle through your rage-choked throat.

‘…Alright then…Oh could you take this form, it is a leadership survey assessing top management. Fill it and give it to my secretary.’

You raise your eyebrows as if to say, ‘Really?’

‘It is confidential,’ he waves you off.

‘Off course,’ you say almost laughing at the sham.

If yes men are what they want, you won’t let them hear an honest neigh again, that is the least they deserve. If you wanted to be a non-conformist, you would not have been in formals in the first place.

- J.

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Slavedom Cometh

In Big Brother, conspiracy theories, humor, Office humor, SlavesInc, Wage Slaves on April 3, 2012 at 02:53

You don’t believe in religion, you have never known why. Perhaps, it is the effort-reward ratio that never appealed to you. It also seems a lot easier to go through life without a surveillance junkie overlooking your inconsequential existence. Sure He will be your Savior, but he also accepts credit cards.

You are not one of those militant atheists though. So you observe the quirks of the God-fearing tribe from a safe distance, without comment but with amusement. One such soul sits right across from your cube. Every day you see him offer elaborate prayers to a pantheon of godly beings that adorn a tray atop his rowing station. Only after a couple of minutes of this ritual does he sit down to work on excel sheets for 8 hours.

On this auspicious day, his ritual is broken by a Higher Power. Mid-way through his fervent mutterings, an announcement erupts over the speakers. Today is the unveiling of a New Grand Design by the Powers that be, something about pan-organization efficiency. Most colleagues, still groggy, seem jilted as they look heavenwards to make sense of the ordinance. Like all historical occasions, Slaves are required to wear company colors. You, off course have forgotten again. Your refusal to maintain calendar entries has cost you once again but the delusion of freedom it gives makes up for the inconvenience.

The announcement directs you to move to the parking lot. No other place in the building can accommodate all 200 slaves at the same time. This is going to be big.

You get an eerie feeling as you trudge along the congregation of working class people dressed in uniform. You are greeted by bright lights and instrumental music when you enter the lot. Without asking you for your approval, a group of volunteers slaps wristbands on you marking the occasion. Cattle tag attached, you spill over wherever the crowd takes you.

The Overlord is here today dressed in a three piece. He seems content overlooking the flock from the vantage of the podium. He wastes no time in getting down to business.

As fellow slaves behold with varied emotions; eagerness, bewilderment, anticipation, you are busy finding human walls to hide the non-compliance of your wardrobe.

Overlord’s speech seems well-rehearsed and almost evangelical. All the hallmarks of a covenant are there: Vague promises of utopia, certainty of penance required to get there, a routine prescribed for it and…hand holding. Yes, to mark this communion, all slaves are required to hold hands to form a chain of like dressed creatures as the theme song is played out. A video camera follows this human chain to capture the lameness for posterity. You know those stock photos of a differently colored stick figure standing out in a crowd or a green apple in a collection of red ones? You are the green/rotten apple here and there is no escaping it at least till the song is over.

Thankfully, it ends before homophobia takes over you completely. You wipe your hands and hurry to immerse yourself in the crowd. Far away, you see Head Slave’s head bobbing up through the sea of salaried humanity. He is coming towards you and he doesn’t seem happy. You can’t take more preaching on this day and make a run for it.

As the flock jostles to get through the alleyway, no one seems to have noticed the back exit. No one except you, you green apple! You make a dash for it and escape to the free air of a non-enclosed environment. You need to take a walk.

You don’t believe in religion, now you know why.

-          J.

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Founder’s Day

In Big Brother, Cause, Office humor, SlavesInc, Wage Slaves on January 29, 2012 at 00:42

The giant screen imposes on your small-time sensibilities. Your lack of individuality mingles well with the thousand-plus crowd of slaves herded together. A familiar image of an old guy with a plain face greets you from every screen, poster and standee. He is clad in a tailored suit, the kind your father could never afford. From a certain angle, you guess he looks destiny-bound. But add a sliver to the side of his mouth and…Pure evil!

He is the founder of your slave-driving machine. Today, off course, is ‘Founder’s Day’. Most slaves are in a different mood today. Some are visually happier. This is probably because this is the one day you get paid without typing anything or staring at a back-lit screen. Some are anticipating better food at the event. Some are still indifferent. You…are trying to guard against the onslaught on your psyche. By now, the Old Man’s face is more familiar to you than that guy on the currency notes (…whatshisname?). With each passing year, the legend is pushed beyond the realms of possibility. If you are not discerning, after a couple of cycles of this propaganda, you will start believing your galley is God’s gift to mankind.

As the final session ends with the third video montage to his Greatness, your Founder, there is a surge of energy through the captive audience. As they hum along the corporate anthem, there is an eerie Big Brother feel to the whole affair. You hope the compliance is out of anticipation of complimentary refreshments at the end of the show and not out of subliminal mind control.

The buffet counters open to a wave of hungry subjects that carry you outside the hall/Panopticon. You can’t take this Orwellian nightmare any more. You hurry out with an imaginary Thought Police on your back. As luck would have it, you trip over a standee of the Old Man. As you lie on the floor, face to face with greatness. You realize he is just another old man, perhaps less anxious than you but very much mortal. You stand up and walk out, leaving the Old Man on the floor.

Finders keepers losers weepers

J.

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