An incident in my workplace earlier this week that illustrates the utter banality of being employed.
In order to progress at work, we strenuously deny that we are there solely for the remuneration - no, manager, I am here because of my stellar ambition and my wish to shape the future of the organisation.
This assertion is so often repeated, out loud in conversation, and to oneself, that it becomes the truth. The ethos of the Communist Party is present at such times. Take a statement which is not true, and by threat of something unpleasant, cause it to be real.
Initially, we utter the words out loud whilst feeling the falsehood in our hearts and minds. At this point, if we think we can get away with it, we might smile or raise our eyebrows at someone who is equally complicit in the act. Eventually, though, it becomes second nature to recite the lie without flinching or eliciting outward signs of not being genuine.
Even then, the falsehood propagates throughout the mind and communicates with the heart. When there is no longer a falsehood, this is the spirit of Communism. It is equivalent to saying 'I love you,' untruthfully so many times that the word becomes the deed. Out of the empty anti-sentiment grows its antithesis. Like the madman, we lie without knowing we are lying, and keep secrets from ourselves.
____________________________________________________________________
I arrived at work on Wednesday to be confronted by the upset face of my manager.
Looking at him, I assumed that we were all about to lose our employment after the company share price took a downward jolt too many, and that he had not yet managed to compose himself sufficiently to impart the information.
It transpired - this is the truth - that his chocolate bar had disappeared from the office refrigerator overnight, and he had not yet managed to find the culprit. I merely stated that I'd had nothing to do with this grand larceny (I didn't say 'grand larceny' - again, the internal censor takes over) and started to perform the mediocre tasks required of me.
In such a trivial event (the disappearance of a bar of chocolate) is imbued the greater ambition of the business world (to treat every event within working hours as being entirely significant.) If a workforce can be made to believe the latter upon presentation of the former, then the visit of a director, change in share price, or whatever else, is more important still.
Once trivialities are no longer fought over, the company has lost its battle for the souls of its individual workers. When a missing piece of chocolate can send a roomful of people into (mock but genuine) panic and concern, then the machinery is working fine, and we can look into our hearts and see only what is required to be seen.
