Barefoot in the heart: part 1, the processor

In a short series of posts, we cut through a typical organisation to see how it works – like sawing down the great oak and counting its rings to see how it lived.

rarely a day ripples by that I don’t wonder how I got here and whether I really am the echoes in my head of the jam and the door slam of the tram reverberating around my vague recollection of yesterday and how it seems awfully like today got called into my line managers office he said ralph my names pete you don’t seem yourself these days it’s like you’re swapped that new boy glaze for a deadpan settled in haze so we need you to rediscover your happy feet asked for a new chair it was like I requested peace in the middle east three forms and line approval plus a doctor’s note if I wanted one that would keep my spine from collapsing and my slipped disc from relapsing but because I haven’t got it now I can’t have it now so I’ll have to wait for the pain you tell me whether that’s at all sane talking of which summoned to itch-haha at three seemed I had infringed the delegation of authority policy section c which would be fine if I even understood what it says I should do so I take the remonstration it’s not just me but I’m so normal I’m the only one they see so just put it there with the history of my unintended deviation and prey it’s not another step to enforced emancipation ask me go on ask me if I’m happy and content and share the organisations values when its more about shareholder values go on send me an engagement survey I would comment on the mess I seem to see but though they claim we can speak freely with anonymity they’ve got my eye pee address and I don’t get shares because I’m three grades off the aristocracy they gave me a development plan so I swapped mine with my mate lee to see if anyone would notice and they didn’t so now I’m down to train to drive an hgv and he’s in invoice processing level three instead of me but seems he swapped his with stan who can already drive a van so he’s off scott free I had to collect the picture of my daughter I left on my desk from security because you have to keep it clear it’s all about confidentiality and pretending that no-one’s here but no chance of flexible working for the data stackers the default assumption being shirking we’re inherently slackers either too young to be trusted or old knackers whose career arteries are crusted so yes nine to five is alive in the beehive where the narcissus bathes in viscous manuka but it’s alright it’s just alright just about no point complaining so many worse off than me so I’ll consider myself lucky but in my heart I am barefoot walking on nettles tracing patterns in a dust that never settles suspended between have and have not a sentence never ended a blinking cursor dreaming of a dot


with thanks to Brain Aldiss for the inspiration

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