From plush offices they dish out orders via e-mail (so as to avoid moving their fat arses), on occasion they'll verbalise their instructions in a new-found language I have the honour (maybe more like the dishonour) of coining a phrase for - Corporatish. It's the starting point for a new ideology and dogma. 'Tyranny begins with the abuse of language' George Orwell once remarked. The language is made up of heady mix of pop psychology and quasi-intellectual corporate-speak, designed to confuse and contradict around every cubicle partition. Those powers-that-be are paid to disseminate this puzzling lexicon, enforce it and obviously tow the line. The bottom feeders (that's pretty much anyone who hasn't got an office, parking place or personalised coffee mug) are paid to swallow the spoon fed Corporatish and then, in the words of one prominent 'business consultant' mould it into action. WTF? The last time I moulded anything was a freshly picked booger. I was 3 at the time. Anyway, whether or not you can in fact 'mould' the garbage so liberally espoused by these 'consultants' is irrelevant to the boss. As long as you follow the orders, smile politely, scribble down notes during 'workshops' ask questions and appear as if you really care, the bottom line is - you have to just nod and smile, or at least pretend to do so.
This flimsy language is often dreamt up by the above mentioned 'business consultants'. Let's unpack the meaning of this job description. Indeed such individuals do consult in businesses. But consult can also translate into regurgitate or lecture (a word plagued by patronising connotations). They swoop in, upon the request of managers, they shuffle off into offices in gaggles to strategetise, plan, brainstorm, their followers never missing a beat as they clamour over each other to impress this new demigod, this individual who will make everything alright again. Consultants are usually brought in at times of crisis. But that's not necessarily a prerequisite for their insidious presence. Sometimes companies just have spare cash floating around and want to blow it on seemingly important things, which appear shiny and professional on the outside, but are actually staid and cliched. From the desks of the meagre office workers they are watched with suspicion druing these meetings. What do they talk about? Their Apple Macs and Blackberries are at the ready, fingers hovering over keyboards, eyes scouring the roof for ideas. Rarely smiles appear on their poker faces. This is serious stuff. But for all we know they're deciding on lunch. 'Sushi or a power shake? I simply can't decide.' Once the lunch code is cracked it's on to more important matters, like what colour whiteboard pen to use to jot down those all crucial ideas. It's corporate conspiring, I tell you. Theories of every kind are formulated to ' increase profits (of the managers) improve on productivity (to increase the profits for the managers), expand the business (make their offices larger). Like I said, all crucial matters.
Then comes the workshops. Those never-ending sessions of pain and boredom. Please note, they're usually held on weekends, when those trusty consultants can probably charge some good overtime. there you sit, amid the waffling on psycho-social-workplace habits, where they attempt to analyse your very being. The pop-psychology is belched out. 'Are you a magician, a hero, a scholar or a warrior?' Asks the this corporate Deity at 8-30 on a Saturday morning at yet another workshop. Those of us awake manage to murmur something (usually curses). His stentorian voice aims to stimulate and motivate. All we want to do is escape or maim this person for using such big words. Can you say 'brainwashing'?
E-mails have become the carries of orders, instructions, decrees and warnings. Bosses, schooled in the new office language, careful construct their messages to motivate. "we have it within us to raise the bar and be better' they cheer. During dark times they threaten, 'It's come to my attention that we have not been functioning optimally'. Yes master. Whatever you say master. The e-mails can become sad attempts by the managers at becoming buddies with their now firmly alienated workforce. Such occasions call for more informal language, 'Hey guys! You've all worked so hard, let's have some fun this weekend and go play some miniature golf (insert smiley face).' Awesome, can't wait boss! Yippee.
Electronic dissemination of company propaganda is sometimes put to the side and substitute for the good old-fashioned poster. Hectares of trees are felled in the name of glossy wastes of paper. Corporatish is glossed up, with the use of out-of-work models smiling at desks, with motivational slogans splashed all of them. 'We can make a difference' or 'Come on, you can do it!' scream these posters. Even while in the bathroom, that last bastion of solitude, the posters are stuck up behind toilet doors where you are reminded, while doing you most personal business, of the company's motivational efforts.
Once a year employees are subjected to what's called appraisals or assessments. Face-to-face with you boss you're expected to 'open up' or 'speak up'. Instead these chats turn into quasi-interrogations, where these minions of the proverbial 'Man' try to extract subversive thoughts via convoluted languages (see 'Corporatish'). 'What are you able to bring to the company?' they ask. It's now your turn to huddle in an office, an Apple Mac poised to take notes on what you say. Your eyes scan the roof for ans wesr which you hope won't offend. 'I'm punctual' you blurt out, the silence becoming far too oppressive, much like the expectation from your interrogator for a favourable response. What you wish you could say is, 'I'd like to bring a high-powered automatic rifle to work one day...' you get where that sentence is going.
No comments:
Post a Comment