Skip to main content

Seasonal Dinner!

It has been my ambition to never go to an office soiree, dinner, coffee house, charade tournament or anything that falls into the purvey of the Workplace Forced Socialization Event. Mostly because I have hermetic tendencies. And also because my work never involves me saying anything to anyone. In my early years, I could go days without ever saying an actual word to anyone. It was bliss. It just seemed to me that with work that is primarily analysis and thinking and stuff, to go to some function every seasonal period to chat it up, as it were, with coworkers I don't even know, is just farcical.

But, over my many years at employment, and perhaps, in some way, due to my affinity for the sitcom "The Office", I've started attending. My work pals tell me it's all about the free meal. I don't call sitting through what seems like literally geologic eons of speeches from the higher ups we never ever interact with 'free'. The funny thing about these meals is that it kinda reveals the double life of the office. On one hand you have the higher ups, the sort of folks who go to seminars on "Vision", or "White Papers on Leadership". On the other hand, you have the folks who do the nitty gritty work. I think for the most part these two groups never meet.

Unfortunately, the higher ups -- who think these great big expansive Feyneman-esque thoughts on groups and departments and potential in the human spirit -- often feel a need to share these kernels of truth; as well as there overarching mission, which sadly includes us. For those on the ground, we are primarily concerned with the work. Well, work, and not being included in the overarching vision.

Perhaps I shouldn't include everyone in that. Perhaps there are other paper-pushers who care. Care deeply on how they can have transformative spirit work whilst doing their duties. That have daily mantras on how their contributions can further the mission statement and bring us all to some envisioned ideal. Some envisioned ideal that features fields of untapped human potential and probably a very progressive sitar soundtrack in the background. I am not those people. And I'm fairly certain the (few) people I talk to on a daily basis are not one of those people. (Maybe this is just a lie I tell myself. I'm sure one of these day's I'll stand, horrified, looking at the computer of a coworker I thought previously impervious to New Age Overarching Thought, with a bright flashing screensaver iteration through the Five Steps to Oneness and Customer Repeat Business. Or something.)

In anycase, the speeches. The endless speeches from folks who are frankly, hardwired for this sort of thing. They line up. Each one continuing their spiel with the "and just one more thing" line that many of us have swallowed hook line and sink 'er. It really is this endless parade of comments and addendums, looking back on the years and looking forward to the future. It's interminable. Like this post. Hence I'll just end it here and let you have your 'dinner' that was no doubt made a la assembly line style in what could only be very generously be called a 'kitchen'.

Comments

Monkfish said…
With that attitude you'll never be part of our portfolio.

Popular posts from this blog

People You Meet on Transit #5

Thanks to Jay Morrison for the photo. Transit Drivers Bus drivers are an archetype in North American culture. In the imagination they are generous in girth, have staunch opinions about unions and eat 300% the recommended intake of red meat. The odd one adheres to a strict conspiracy theory, which they manage to work into the most innocuous conversations. At least, that's what's been ingrained in our collective subconscious along with "Han shot first" and "Dukakis, 1988". But transit drivers, like everyone else, are individuals. Unique, utterly one of a kind from the 5 billion others who roam this spinning mass of molten iron with the cool, carbon life-form infested shell. Sure, you see the reticent ones, who have a 100 yard stare and coolly watch passengers get mild hypothermia while they take their union-sanctioned 15 minute break inside their cozy bus. But there are other, more colourful characters as well. In my city, there is one that calls out every st...

Insults From A Senile Victorian Gentleman

You SIR, have the hygeine of an overly ripe avocado and the speaking habits of a vaguely deranged chess set. I find your manner to be unctuous and possibly libelous, and whatever standard you set for orthodontal care, it's not one I care for. Your choice in news programs is semi-literate at best and I do believe your favourite news anchor writes erotic literature for university mascots. While I'm not one to point out so obvious a failing, there has been rumour that the brunches you host every other Sunday are made with too much lard and cilantro. If you get my meaning. There is something to be said about your choice of motor-car fuel, but it is not urbane and if I were to repeat it, mothers would cover their children's ears and perhaps not a few longshoremen within earshot would blush. How you maintain that rather obscene crease in your trousers and your socks is beyond me, perhaps its also during this time that you cultivate a skin regime that I'm sure requires the dea...

Cyberpunk 2077

 Like a late 90's webring, replete with link back and hints at an actual relationship with other authors, this is a piece I'd like to say in.. rebuttal is too harsh a term, in reply, to my very long standing internet friend, zompist, where he posts his various gripes with that great sprawling hot mess, Cyberpunk 2077. Now I say hot mess because that's what the internet at large thinks of it, but me, playing on the worringly over-powered computers on GeForce Now, have experienced nearly no problems. Or at least not problems that bother me enough. Keep in mind I'm the Homer Simpson when it comes to critiquing alot of things. I just like, alot of things. Cheap date, as it were.   It might be my hundreds of hours in Bethesda titles and regularly having to look up console commands to debug yet another janked out quest, but it takes a rather large bug to befuddle and begrudge me. Like if a bug repoed my car, maybe, or  told me how much weight I had actually put on during ...