When the man in the cubicle next to me talks on the phone to some muttonheaded superintendent to confirm the exact number of wire spools on an order form, and he says the other man’s name repeatedly, okay Andrew, okay Bill, alright Mark, the obsequiousness of it, combined with the piddling yet essential nature of the call, the indispensable work of verifying lengths of panels or numbers of outlets and the ingratiating but still palpably anxious, unnatural deployment of personal relations principles, the application of conversational Crisco to chafed exchanges between a field grizzled and sunpunched electrician with the skin of chewed beef jerky and a paedomorphic desk amphibian with a degree in construction management or accounting, sparks in me a bilious revulsion and an urge to incinerate the entire office, the whole industrial park, the city of Indianapolis and Washington DC.
I'm making an official request here for a compilation or conglomeration or whatever of this, plus the earlier barista writings*, into a kind of work-themed sludge-podge. We can workshop the title later, provisionally how about "We Must Imagine Sisyphus Happy"?
While reading, I imagined the narrator lording over a Tupperware of freshly microwaved tilapia and flaccid asparagus while trying to fill out a web based self-assessment at their workstation, but the VPN directs their browser through a continuous looping connection-disconnection cycle. All rather hellish.
Wonderfully captures the daily balance of rigor and banality inherent to white collared office culture. Great stuff, Caleb.
These people need some severance 😎😂
A daily occurrence. Scrawled on the toilette stall walls by the whispering madmen.
As always, well done Caleb.
Thanks, Onion thief
How did you know my real name
I'm making an official request here for a compilation or conglomeration or whatever of this, plus the earlier barista writings*, into a kind of work-themed sludge-podge. We can workshop the title later, provisionally how about "We Must Imagine Sisyphus Happy"?
EDIT * plus the postman bits of course
The first volume already exists in book form as Hardly Working. I do think I'll put the more recent entries together at some point as well
A) your vocabulary is 🔥
B) if this is actually you, please fucking ghost your 9-5…this is a death knell
Thanks, Laggy. For legal purposes, I can neither confirm nor deny that this is a true story
I strangely like not knowing. There’s genius in that no-man’s land….
‘stuffed functionary weasel wear’ is a flight of stairs you threw me down
Happy to do it
1. This rocks
2. Ever read George Trow’s “in the context of no context”? u might dig
Thank you. I haven't but I took a little look and I think you're right, I'd likely dig. Will try to track it down and give it a read soon
Skillful evisceration of the cube farm and corporate drone life.
This is an A+++ rant.
"... elitist impositions of parodic techno rationality ..." -- Perfect.
Thank you much
While reading, I imagined the narrator lording over a Tupperware of freshly microwaved tilapia and flaccid asparagus while trying to fill out a web based self-assessment at their workstation, but the VPN directs their browser through a continuous looping connection-disconnection cycle. All rather hellish.
Wonderfully captures the daily balance of rigor and banality inherent to white collared office culture. Great stuff, Caleb.