(17th Sept - Derek) Receiving this sort of email from an old friend makes you stop and take notice. Us in our thirties are no longer the next big thing. The world is getting younger, faster, and sexier. The fresh bodies hot on our tails combine the tech-savvy of a Mission Impossible team member with the grooming of David Beckham, and it doesn't matter anymore that they spell like they txt msg. Be they from India, China, or the local TAFE, they're chasing us with the doggedness of terminator androids. "I need your chob, your clodes, und your lifestyle."
We, on the other hand, are the manual transmission cars of today, scrambling to reinvent and remarket ourselves to meet an evolving market. It's like a tortuous game of whack-a-mole, constantly chasing niches that pop up here and there. As the game speeds up, and we slow down, the niches will appear and disappear before our hammers get close. We are all fiddling with our fingers moaning, 'What to do, what to do?'
Should we form elite cliques, perhaps corner a market? No. Globalisation will continue eroding barriers to entry until cartels look as silly as the 'popular kids' table at a high school reunion. Should we scramble up the management ladder until we're 'safe'? No. Upper management is the first to go when shareholders/voters hold a purge. Middle management is getting streamlined out as technology makes it easier for executives to micro-manage.
There's no point in going down to compete with the masses. There's no point in going up. In every direction lies suffering and greater uncertainty, yet we strive to move faster. Our ideology abhors procrastinators and looks for ways to reduce (or at least compartmentalise) time-consuming tasks. We would smell the flowers if we could invent a way to do so without stopping.
But advancement is a lie. Seven years in the public service has taught me that there is no link to effort or skill. Stability is a lie, with a restructure and a new manager every 2 months - a regular change-of-guard meeting where you're hauled into an office and told solemnly, "We don't really know where to put you, because we don't know what you do." (Well you're going to pay me until you fucking well find out!) This is 'continuous improvement', which means keeping staff on their toes by pulling the rug out frequently.
Even the time-honoured solution of changing jobs won't work, as 'continuous improvement' is everywhere, and your new place will suck after three months.
Amongst the constant change, what is left unchanging?
Deconstructing my jobs, I find that one constant is people. I have to work with them, I have to see them. Like a lot of techies, I used to treat people like a necessary evil. They always seemed to get in the way of my work. Now that I've given up on real work, I realise the best places I worked in chose me for my personality while the worst places placed procedure above people.
So I am trying something new: I only undertake tasks with a direct relationship to making someone happy (me included). I will take my time, and try to add a personal touch. I was expecting a roasting for being 'unprofessional' (Professionalism: your ability to tolerate all the crap ancillary to your job. The time-sheets, the meetings, the policies) but all that's resulted are happy clients. Furthermore, shedding my work-related agendas has given me more time to work on creative efforts, like my screenplays and other artworks. 'Making people happy' has given me new meaning in a place where other goals are illusory.
Humanism often goes against the modern obsession with managed performance. It makes no sense to 'treat people faster,' does it? There's no room for metrics or reviews. Just a lot of nods, winks, and special favours.
Is this sustainable? Yes! Because persons change - management turnover ensures I'll get told off by a different boss every six months - but human nature generally doesn't. It's quite ironic that I've found a stability of sorts in the most fluid of subjects, people. I'm surprised by the number who are willing to scratch my back if I scratch theirs, the exception being management, who only loosely classify as people anyway. They'd probably fret at the concept of not having something to benchmark. But they can go cry me a river, then build a bridge and get over it.
All I can do for them is lie on my timesheets. That seems to make them happy.
I expect to pass through this world but once; any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any fellow-creature, let me do it now; let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.6th July - Newsflash! Your colleagues are suffering, and it's your fault. You may work in an office, but you don't have to make it a fashion statement. You're just lucky I'm here to go 'Queer Eye' on yo' ass. (Not that I'm queer, or want anything to do with yo' ass.) You won't be able to plead ignorance anymore.
I know you're busy, I know you're in a rush, but keep some of these in mind when you're throwing on something in the morning. If we know you're making an effort not to look bad, wouldn't we be more likely to at least listen to your proposals and read your emails? We see you more than your family does. Spruce up for us. Please.
6th July - I wouldn't have gone for the interview without my manager's okay. And though I couldn't gauge how smooth it went, they called back in an hour, saying, "You're the man." (No, You da man.)
A temporary assignment in another agency; higher pay; achievable goals in a field I'd like to work in; experience with immediate benefits for my organisation. Everybody wins. At least, my mob would lose nothing because they'd be paying me nothing. Should all be apples, right?
Wrong.
"Sorry, Derek. We're not going to support your leave without pay. We're going to back-flip and make you look like a complete idiot as you try to explain to those people why you can't work for them. We know you need a permanent position until your house gets paid off. So we're going to use that to hold you here, and deny everyone sure-fire gains to avoid the off-chance that we'll get criticised for letting you go for three little months."
I'd like to say that I wasn't shocked by how thoroughly the vagueness of the bureaucracy screwed me over. But that would be a lie. Justly or unjustly, I am pissed.
It's a'ight though. At least I've learned that there are people out there who do want to work with me. Who are as enthusiastic as I am about what I can contribute. And who won't treat me like a cost-centre.
Perhaps more importantly, I learned who's watching my back, and who's watching my throat. Not looking to return any favours, just good to know these things.
It's all cool, now. But it ain't all good.