Some say he lives on the edge. One more step and he would leave the world of conventionalism, the world of status-quo, the world of 9 to 5, which in reality is 6 to 6. But although he does live in this world, his heart and mind do not. As the great poet MC Hammer once said, "you can't touch this!"
Oh but they do try. With mind-numbing policies designed to break the will and spirit of his and the other middle managers along with his company's general inability to attract and keep hungry and passionate coworkers, they try to penetrate his psyche, strangle desire and render hope useless.
By light of his coworker's eyes and body movement, they have succeeded. Knowledge and decision work have been reduced to placing a widget in the next box as it comes down the belt. 6 to 6 robots and it takes 6 drinks after 6 to uncover their humanness.
But not him...
He places them, his company, in a tiny compartment and labels the door fuel. Their mindless mission and its incessant hunger to take other people's money, fuels his life. It fuels his children's education, his new Dodge Challenger and his wife's Beemer, his photography and writing habits and his wife's gym membership. It even fuels the pet's boarding house fees when he takes time off and they go away on vacation.
There is no meaning and fulfillment to be found at work. And that's okay because he isn't looking to find any there. He figures that that's his coworkers' main problem.
There was only one Babe Ruth and it is possible to punch out one's mind and heart at the door as one punches in to work. But the incredible power that it takes to keep the hounds at bay while at the same time sacrificing twelve hours of one's day, twelve hours devoid of meaning and fulfillment, is not worth it.
It is true, the Man cannot touch him. But are those twelve hours worth the price of freedom?
Comments