Corporate Kudzu

It's interesting, the differences between the private and the public sector, and yet there are also similarites. I've worked in government offices where not much gets done, and nobody worries about it.

I had one position where it seemed like no one had worked in the private sector, but they insisted they were, "just like a private company". It had this odd effect on the culture: no one who was a government employee could really be "fired", but they all spent their time worrying and moaning that any day, the axe was gonna swing. Everyone worked really late hours, and yelled a lot, but at the end of the day, they really didn't accomplish much more than any other agencies. I kept thinking they were playing "dress-up".



I didn't last very long there. I didn't have it in me to join in on the wailing and the gnashing of teeth. And I'm too cheery to let someone yelling at me convince me they're right. I also didn't talk politics: there were strong feelings about which party you supported, and if you didn't pick one and choose your allies, you were fodder for the front line.


One place that actually was a typical model and got to play dress-up: a billion-dollar multinational company that was simply beautiful. Beautiful people in expensive suits, women in the latest corporate fashions, and everybody buzzing like a beehive, thrumming with activity. It was like a dream, but you couldn't have it without stepping into the Pod...you were trained before you were allowed to start your first day, and the training was steeped in the Lore of Political Correctness: this is how we talk, this is how we use the phone, this is how we approach people, and these are the things we can and can't do because someone might have their feelings hurt.

It was kind of like a friend of mine's living arrangements--he was in a contract-driven "neighborhood association community". The kind of place with monthly meetings and a thick book of rules. He got in trouble for washing his car in the driveway. He got in trouble for popping the hood where everybody could see the icky engine--why couldn't he just let "The Mechanic" replace the air filter for him? (if you're like me, you're "The Mechanic". Not all of us can afford to overpay someone for a 5-minute part swap). And he got in trouble for generally not fitting in.

His neighborhood also had pest control come and take care of "the squirrel problem". The social sterilization procedures are what made this fascinating: someone had actually convinced the tenants that the Pest Control company doesn't harm the squirrels. Nothing bad--it was all for the better! They were gently captured in a cage full of treats, and then taken...away. To live somewhere happy and free. Some squirrel farm, where they had plenty of free space to roam.



I had a great time with the people in my billion-dollar multinational company: we had weekly meetings over a beer, we played pool together and went bowling, and still managed to crank out a lot of great achievements, crafting feather after feather for our caps.



And yet I always had this weird feeling that at some point, the squirrel truck would come. And I wasn't sure if I'd be on it or driving it.