When Corporate Culture Kills
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Somewhere between uncomfortable and lethargic, the battle between the muscles in my eyelids and the urge to welcome the soft embrace of sleep wages on. The fuzzy silhouette of some corporate lemming is just about visible through my bleary eyed vision. He gesticulates to a graph on the screen. To a bar chart no less, a fucking bar chart.
The corporate gauntlet. Where you’re tested in the fires of incredible monotony. A chain of endless meetings prior to some useless corporate event. I don’t think I’ll survive this one.
“B2B operations and cross communication amongst affiliated providers is a strength to our service and empowers clients…”
Why do people talk like that? What happened to us? When did humanity stoop so low? You’d think the presentation could be recorded and used to treat insomnia, but no. It keeps you conscious whilst boiling your soul in the bubbling cauldron of mind numbing boredom.
“…communication strategies to implement this as seamlessly as possible into the organizational ethos. Next slide please, Keith…
It’s oppressive. The clinical white of the room. The soft buzzing of the projector. The droning presenter. It’s a perfect storm. A sensory sedative. I can actually feel my consciousness dwindling. My brain feels more liquid than when I sat down. When did I sit down?
…no but seriously. Key Performance indicators aren't a laughing matter. Let’s have a look at the pie chart on the next slide…
He just made a joke. Was that a chuckle from the audience? Actual mirth? Or was it just the final gurgling of senior staff falling into the merciful arms of death?
“And here’s the rub. We are going to be updating the system everyday. Because the CRM data needs to be collected by MIS so we can produce a report…”
‘Here’s the rub?’ Are you building suspense? He’s enjoying this. What a condescending bastard.
“Data driven practices are the beating heart of our organisation. Measuring impact, is how we facilitate progress over time…”
I hate you. I hate you, and everything you stand for. This, the epitome of meaninglessness. The potent mundanity of work being forcibly pumped into the dying brains of the demoralized public. You…