Working with Human Rights Rant

We are not so free.

We are steered to cubicles, chained by policies and The Powerful’s desire to see us when they need us.

We easily forget that we trade our time, skill and energy for a contracted sum, often 30 pieces of silver – give or take the exchange rate.

We feel safe In large organisations, confident that they care, or at least that they offer a yellow-brick road to the shareholder’s back door. Upon arrival at this home, though, signs declare they’re moving. Shod we be surprised? Empty words match short-term thinking, and the annual,  if not quarterly, dismissal of ideas and staff.

We put aside some things we love, to serve a greater vision, which may or may not deserve its paper. To bring our full self isn’t often necessary, nor any networking or experience beyond the box. Powerful would not approve the off-task ventures, social or online -  it must be ‘all for one’. And ‘one’ is clearly Powerful.

Turn your thoughts, if you please, to how we do induction. By name, we know, it speeds up the pace of newbie labour – pregnant pause to contempt this new birth, epidurals notwithstanding. We could begin by building trust, asking questions and authorising people to do what they’re good at. But that is…well, personal.

Does all this analysis seem absurd? Strategy isn’t for us,  is it? Surely the world is on our side, fighting for our future? An increase every year is just enough to stop us thinking.

Beyond the Hallowed Halls, the execution layer faces the firing line, from peers, reports and people, too. The tasks remain relentless. The work of three who left can easily be done by one soul who stayed. Or else. Or else what?

A level playing field gets sold to craft a lounge where brass can mix and mingle. Evidence and business case remain reluctant singles.

Oh, to be free! But I am. Oh, to have time! But I do. Oh, to be aware of how my world is being formed. By default, and my thinking.

I said the vows, some I even wrote, and others blessed our union. I blame myself when disengaged, for I have chosen still to walk here. Where’s my space to challenge and explore, and crash-test new identities? I can create the walls that keep me sure of what is in or out.

I tire of all the rhetoric, because I’ve tasted what true living can be.

There must be something more. More meaning and more traction. More connection, less distraction. More ways to feed the hungry. Less is more and simple steps are often still the answer. The question, though, is hard to ask. Will I face my System? Blue pill, red pill. Sanity or Consciousness. It must be red. I awake, and run. I must remain free.