THE FORKIE PHILOSOPHER

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  • FIXING THE PROBLEM: Rise of the Tycoons #23

    “I won’t be coming home tonight

    My generation will put it right

    We’re not just making promises

    That we know we’ll never keep”

    “Land of Confusion” Genesis

    That song came out in 1986 and was a protest against the proliferation of greed and abuse of power while living under the threat of nuclear annihilation – happy days. I’m sure Mr Collins and his compadres influenced a huge number of Gen-Xers who then decided to fight back against the tyranny of Reagan, Thatcher and their corporate overlords. They didn’t go full batshit revolution, but they agitated, vandalised and made their grievances known.

    46 years later we seem to be in a worse mess, and the youth are as fired up as ever and swearing ‘they’ will sort things out. I hope they do better than the generations before them without having to burn everything down.

    The masses being repressed and exploited by the people who clawed their way or were born into the top spots is a story as old as ‘civilisation’. One I hope I don’t need to go into again at this point of this thread.

    Unrest, riots, insurrections and civil war are yet more common denominators of our glorious ‘civilisation’. The cause is usually a most righteous one. The powers-that-be have been pushing their luck and have stopped even feigning any interest in the suffering of the masses.

    It begins with protests and attempts at change through official channels. Failing that there will be worker strikes and a growing animosity on both sides. The authorities will try to crush the rebels and set a firm example. This may frighten the majority into submission, or it may just be the catalyst for riots, violence and destruction.

    At this crucial point comes the test of just how pissed off the population is. The leaders must put on the iron gloves here if they want to hold their positions. For the insurgents to continue means certain bloodshed and incarceration. This is going to get very ugly!

    This is not a choice that can be logically pondered and democratically decided. Angry voices will scream for war, drowning out any calls for moderation. If the people are that fed up with their treatment and conditions the fuse has been lit and nothing, short of retribution or defeat will stop them.

    The finer points no longer matter; the precise reasons listed in history books hold no weight at this moment. The resentment has reached its critical mass, and the furious mob has mobilised.

    I’ll use the French Revolution as the first example because it illustrates my earlier points most clearly. An overthrow of the aristocracy by an enraged peasant population, sick and tired of living in horrendous squalor while the aristocracy live in opulent splendour. Add to that the indignity of having little to no rights and being treated like shit in general and you have a seething hatred so overwhelming that aristocratic heads will literally roll.

    The contemptible elites were eliminated, and a new system was put in place to prevent such hoarding of power and wealth ever happening again. Limiting the overall authority of the monarchy and installing a parliament with members who represent the people, thus sharing the power and responsibility. Founded on the principles of “Liberty, Equality and Fraternity”.

    The concept being that all men are brothers (women’s rights being the first obvious blind spot) and leaders should serve the will of the people. A lot of flowery speech which boils down to “we want things to be fair!”. A very subjective statement indeed.

    With the continuation of the slave trade and French colonisation, it was pretty obvious that this ‘brotherhood’ was a selective one. “All men” just sounds so much more high-minded than “all Frenchmen”.

    Things need to be fair in the sense that any industrious Frenchman, regardless of his social status should be able to use his entrepreneurial skills and make his fortune. It is only fair that this go-getter should have access to slaves and stolen land to advance his quest for riches. The bottom line is so much easier to maintain without paying a fair price for land, environmental resources and labour. “Those rich bastards did it before the revolution! It’s only fair that we should get a crack at it now.”

    Next, Napolean decides it’s time to expand the empire and proceeds to invade his neighbours. Congratulations! You are now part of France whether you like it or not. Don’t worry we’ll be fair; didn’t you read our revolutionary slogan? Just don’t rock the boat. Remember you lost, so know your place. Don’t overextend our kindness.

    The hypocrisy is only exceeded in absurdity by the ignorance of itself. I genuinely reckon the ones profiting from the pillaging were so focused on their own enrichment that they were oblivious to the concept that they were now treating non-French people just as abhorrently as the aristocracy had treated them in the bad old days.

    Flash forward and you will undoubtedly find that many of the new elites who rose via such cruel exploitation now look down at the lower classes with contempt. Lower classes that were not supposed to exist mind you. Lower classes of ‘brothers’.

    The concept was a noble, albeit naïve, one: “equality etc.” Things should be fair. There should not exist such a huge gap between the haves and have nots. A democratically elected government certainly seems fairer than royal families and such; and it was undoubtably a good thing to spread the power across a larger group.

    Unfortunately, in my weary and cynical opinion, they merely succeeded in removing the current tyrants and then changing the rules. A victory for sure! Although without a cure for the many flaws in the human condition they had simply cleared the field and planted new flowers in the hope that the weeds would not return.

    The haves are not always born into their ‘haveness’. Many of them pursue that goal obsessively. Change the rules and they will adapt. They will find the loopholes; they will use everything at their disposal to thrive in the game; whatever it may be. They will HAVE again!

  • CORPORATE CONFUSION: You Gotta Start Somewhere #3

    I have made a conscious decision to avoid turning this hypothetical into a drama. I considered having disputes, sackings and walk-outs, but that would just deflect from the point of the exercise at this stage – maybe later.

    Things are getting hectic over at Joe’s chairs. He has secured contracts with two large furniture franchises on top of ‘Sitting Ducks’ and all his smaller clients. He cannot keep up with demand, and his 3 employees are stretched to the limit. They have even started declining overtime because they are becoming exhausted. Joe is running himself ragged trying to capitalise on the boom.

    #2 has transitioned to leadership well and #4 has almost completed his training; he is already turning out 5 chairs a week before overtime. Everyone is doing their best, but if they cannot supply the stores sufficiently, they may lose customers and/or contracts.

    Joe has been doing his homework on running his business and he knows that he has two main options when it comes to increasing production: more staff or smarter operations. He was planning on hiring a new trainee once #4 got his stripes. However, right now he needs a fully productive tradie or two just to keep up with demand. Hire some temps maybe?

    The available technological advances are not worth the investment at this juncture and Joe would end up wasting a lot of their potential while going into further debt. Smarter operations? What does that entail? One good word for it would be ‘streamlining’. Finding the optimum use of your resources; workers, equipment and time.

    This is where Henry Ford and McDonalds usually enter the conversation. Instead of having 10 men build 1 car each a week; what if you fixed it so they could work together in an onflow type system. Get it right and they could turn out maybe twice as many completed cars in the same amount of time.

    Joe knows how to make good chairs. At present Joe’s chairs only produce two styles of chairs. In theory that can easily translate into a hamburger or a cheeseburger if he can come up with is own “Speedee Service System”.

    Joe is too swamped to do any extensive research, so he outsources for advice. He pays an egghead to observe his operation and come up with a way of optimising the resources at his disposal to maximise output. Joe pays for this and asks for nothing from his employees; the chance that this ‘expert’ is a fool is all Joe’s risk.

    In this, my make-believe world, most things go to plan, so Joe ends up with a clever new system that will increase his team’s chair production by 50%. He will need to purchase a few new machines, but they will pay for themselves over time. If Joe hires another person, he can boost that increase even more. That person need not be a tradie so he can pay them minimum wage and not spend money on training and tools. This person will function as a juncture between the new specialised workstations.

    Rather than having three people making complete chairs from scratch, the team now take on separate segments of the manufacturing process. There are many teething problems, and Joe listens carefully to suggestions from the team. He also visits his customers to ease their concerns about supply and promote his new and improved production method (not all his secrets, mind you).

    Joe hires a couple of temporary tradies to help with the workload along with his new factory hand.

    After a couple of frustrating months, the team gets into the swing, and Joe lets his temps go. The new grunt is speeding things up even more and the orders are being filled at a much better rate. Profits are rising steadily and Joe is able to invest some of it after he makes his repayments to the bank.

    That Christmas Joe throws an extra-fancy party and gives everyone a nice bonus. Onwards and upwards for the new year! Everyone is happy???

    There are a few flies in the soup:

    • #2 reckons he deserves a pay-rise for all the extra pressure he went through. At the very least he should have gotten a larger bonus than the rest.
    • All three of the original team think they had way more to do with the creation of the new system than the minor modifications they implemented. They know Joe paid a lot of money to some ‘know-it-all to come in and fuck around’, but they genuinely believe they were the major orchestrators of the increased efficiency.
    • They also hold resentment for all the extra work they did during the hectic period and through the transition. The massive amount of overtime they were paid just doesn’t figure in that equation for them.
    • On the contrary, they are now bitter because the improved operations have significantly reduced the need for extensive overtime and their pay has dropped.
    • Joe’s relationship with the bank and his customers; the loans he must repay and the way he obtained such fruitful customers and managed to keep them during the unsteady times is not on his team’s radar at all.
    • While Joe is busy planning how to use the extra revenue for improvement and growth, his team are wondering why he isn’t sharing the spoils.
    • #5 hears all these grievances and can’t help but ponder the idea that he will never become a tradie and earn the good money the others are all on.

    Stay tuned folks.

  • YOU GO DEEP; I’LL STAY SIMPLE THIS TIME: Movie Musings #15

    The Truman Show (1998)

    ***SPOILER ALERT***

    I recently watched an awesome YouTube video by Chase Hughes that offered brilliant insights into possible meanings for this film. He covers most of the stuff I had already thought of myself or learned from various sources since its 1998 release and then proceeds to go deeper and further. The video also presents some great philosophical insights that relate to our everyday experiences. Thus, I don’t have anything to add, and I would thoroughly recommend you check it out if you love dissecting cinema like I do:

    What I will focus on is one question I have always had since first watching the film in the cinema and a new realisation that occurred to me while watching this video.

    To get the full effect of The Truman Show your suspension of disbelief will be required. If you give your inner sceptic some time off you will be rewarded with an amazing allegory on so many themes; such as reality, persona, freedom, free-will and many more. The film makers do a wonderful job creating a world where you can immerse yourself and just soak up the story, so it would be a stubborn sceptic/cynic indeed who refuses to take the ride.

    One thing always played on my mind though, from my very first viewing. Yes, Truman is stuck in this pretend reality. Yes, Christof uses many atrocious psychological tricks together with his control of almost every aspect of Truman’s world to keep him trapped. However, Truman is ultimately oblivious to it all. The pros and cons of that one idea deserve at least one post of its own.

    All the people who interact with Truman each day are professional actors who get to go home sometime. What bemused me was Truman’s wife and best friend. What kind of contract did these two fucking sign? Marlon, the best friend has to be on call at all times to put out any fires relating to Truman’s belief in his bullshit world. Marlon must be ready to pop up with a six pack of beer at a moment’s notice to gaslight his paycheck (I mean friend). That must come with some serious bonuses or stock options or something.

    What about Meryl? The wife? She is almost as trapped as Truman! I suppose she gets to slip away when he is at work or off doing something with other people, but that is one tortuous work schedule she has! What about shagging? Is that in the contract? It’s getting kind of icky now.

    Who gets the worst deal here? Truman is being royally duped, yet he is blissfully unaware to this trickery. So long as his suspicions are kept at bay, he will never discover the horrific betrayal he has suffered and by not knowing he will not suffer – that sounds about right – right?

    Meryl and Marlon on the other hand are conscious accomplices in this deception, and they do it for money. They probably convince themselves it is for art or some kind of bullshit though. Regardless, they are participating in this unethical entertainment for the sole purpose of gathering viewers and extracting money from product placement and advertising. The producers probably spin it as a psychological experiment or some kind of bullshit though.

    On that note, I wonder if the whole thing wasn’t a study and in the usual duplicity of the behavioural sciences, the actual subjects were the actors rather than (or maybe along with) Truman. The people responsible for maintaining the charade would potentially offer a treasure trove of unexpected reactions to such a bizarre situation. What happens to the deceivers after they play a continuous role for such a long time?

    They all know Truman is the dupe and the world is watching him in this large petri dish. They would all make fascinating subjects for anyone looking to study Human behaviour. Where does the role-playing end? Just a thought.

    The scene where Marlon gets sent with his trusty six-pack to help reaffirm Truman’s trust in his (false) worldview, is a great case in point. As Marlon’s appeals to Truman’s friendship reach their peak we, the audience, are presented with the unsettling fact that every poignant word is just Marlon repeating what Christof is telling him to say. Yet, Marlon seems genuinely emotional and sincere in his declaration of brotherhood with Truman – that’s a riddle wrapped in an enigma.

    It seems clear that Marlon really does love Truman, yet he is sitting there lying to his face – wow!!!

    Such a fantastic tale! A gift that keeps on giving. So much food for thought in just over 100 minutes.

    Now for the realisation that struck me after watching the YouTube video. I am rather perplexed that it never struck me before. Did someone else mention it and I forgot? It’s so obvious! Maybe that was it; hiding in plain sight. Maybe I was so wrapped up in the internal logic of the story I just accepted the ‘leap of faith’ as it was.

    The glorious finale. Truman has faced his deepest fears and conquered all of Christof’s attempts to foil his awakening. He stands on the border between his curated world and the ‘real’ world. He repeats his famous catch phrase and takes that courageous step into the unknown.

    Maybe our pre-Big Brother brains couldn’t make the connection, though decades have since passed and I only now just saw it.  No doubt for Truman this step across the threshold is filled with untold mystery and trepidation. For those of us who live on the other side of that dome however, we have a very good idea of what’s in store for our hero – celebrity!

    A man watched obsessively by so many for so long will not be walking into obscurity and destitution. Paparazzi, adoring fans, managers, offers and contracts. Hell! That sounds like an excellent sequel.

    How does Truman deal with fortune and fame?

    Do Christof and the producers launch a legal battle?

    Can Meryl and Marlon adjust to life outside the dome? I’m sure they’re financially fine, but psychologically???

  • MUSINGS ON THE JOB ABOUT THE JOB: I’ve Heard About Toxic, But This is Ridiculous!

    A long time ago in a workplace locker-room not that far away…

    This place had over a hundred employees, so the locker room was large. It was an L-shape that wrapped around the men’s toilets and showers. I only ever saw 5 or less women working on the floor at any time, plus I never ventured into the place where men dare not go. Needless to say, the female amenities were much smaller.

    The lockers ran along the entire wall space of the bent room, with long benches spaced along the middle of the floor. The lockers were smaller than you might expect. Imagine the six-footer you often see; now divide it in two. Two separate lockers stacked on top of each other. Each employee was provided with one locker. How? You brought in your own lock and locked it. No name, no record kept…sounds sensible; if you work with virtuous gentlemen – hahahaha!

    Who’s to say I don’t have four lockers? For the price of four locks, I can.

    The most common trend I saw (I never found out who the innovator was) was simple and effective. Two locks and a few zip ties. If you move fast and find two empty lockers on top of one another, you now have your own double bunger.

    “What do you need that for?” I hear you ask.

    “Need? I don’t need it, although I’ll surely fill it up with shit quick enough.”

    In a shitty job it seems people will do all kinds of odd things just to feel like they are getting one over on the company. Not to mention, a double locker is like a little status symbol; a little “yeah, I’m twice as clever than most”.

    Beside the issue of keeping track of locker real estate portfolios, there was another snag that would become apparent after some time had passed. After a while the churn changes the lineup and fresh new faces replace the sapped one’s that jumped the wall. Did those deserters bother to vacate their locker? Who can tell how many of those unmarked metal boxes are secured by a lock whose key-holder has nothing to do with the joint anymore?

    Which leads to the story I recently saw in a whole new light.

    A few years into the life of this locker-room a foul smell began to become a permanent resident. Being that it was beside the toilets for a large number of men who, on average, had far from healthy lifestyles, a nasty stink was not an uncommon visitor. Difference being that this fucker lingered like the unwanted guest it was.

    Everyone did their own inspecting, and the cleaners did all they could, but that offensive odour refused to vacate the premises. My theory was a spin on the old prawn head revenge prank where you hide those stinky suckers in your target’s car or residence and savour the idea of them going insane trying to find the source of the ever-worsening reek of decomposing crustacean noggins. I’m thinking “some disgruntled bastard has left a putrid little present behind for us to enjoy” – thanks cunt!

    I cannot recall who the gifted gumshoe was, but the discovery was far uncannier (and disgusting) than my suggestion. Whether it was sheer frustration or Sherlock Holmes level deduction, someone moved the lockers away from the walls (they were in sections of a dozen or so). What they found was something more than a pungent practical-joke or mere vandalism…

    Some poor tortured soul had taken the time to hatch this plan and then carry it out at the risk of getting caught fucking doing it!

    Behind one section of lockers there was shit smeared all over the wall and the remaining stool sample, which was apparently in a plastic bag, was on the ground nearby! That is the work of a very demented mind there my friends. I suppose we should all be happy they didn’t come in one day and shoot the place up!

    We will never know if it was human, dog or whatever excrement; no scientific testing was carried out. Was it one of the blokes, or maybe a stealthy female attack? Was the culprit long gone or still among us enjoying the fruits of their labour? Was it someone less obvious: a security guard or a cleaner? They would have plenty of opportunities to be alone in there uninterrupted.

    If anyone was trying to pull this off during a shift they could be walked in on at any moment. It would require a lot of luck to poop, fish it out, move the locker…you get the filthy picture. Maybe they brought the dung form home; a kind of “here’s one we prepared earlier” type scenario. That way they only have to achieve the second half of the sabotage. Which leads to the animal droppings theory; will any poo do? That’s all academic in the end because the mystery was never solved.

    I clearly remember my first reaction, once the repulsion wore off, was to think of an enraged prisoner with no other way to vent their loathing at the appalling conditions they are forced to endure. “How can I take this contempt inside me and inflict it on those bastards?”

    In both scenarios (work or prison) physical violence may not be a viable option for any number of reasons and words alone could never express such seething hatred. In both scenarios mental illness would be considered the likely cause, and it was for our mysterious turd troll. Beside the usual labels: “dickhead”, “asshole”, “idiot”.

    After many more years in similar employment and witnessing countless mini-meltdowns and adult tantrums, along with having a few of my own, I must admit that the prisoner metaphor rings much truer now. The feeling of being trapped with no way out; being treated unfairly and having your dignity slowly stripped away.

    In a workplace scenario you are probably safe from getting shanked and while a smack in the head or proper bashing is possible, most people cannot afford to lose their job over such actions. Even a schoolyard (at least when my generation was young) offered a lesser penalty for delivering a knuckle sandwich, and a lot of these guys are the very ones who would have been fighting and mucking around instead of studying; hence the shitty job they find themselves in.

    People do not use their words here. Not mindfully anyway. Abuse, profanity, insults and even threats are considered more effective. Yet you still have the same bully hierarchy with supervisors as the teachers or screws who can be just as bad and/or play favourites with subordinates of questionable character. All without a release valve.

    Sure, you get to go home each day, but resentments can be like barnacles. You don’t notice the weight of them until a whole bunch are dug into your sides. They go home with you too; they affect your sleep, your overall enjoyment of life. Before you know it, you’re bringing a plastic bag into the toilet with you…

    This is of course just my feeble attempt to understand the motive of our phantom faeces flinger. Which, to me at least, is about as close as you would like to get to a workplace shooter or suicide. On the other hand, it could actually be some sicko’s idea of a joke; which is also very worrying.

    It is an extreme example, but the degradation exists for everyone involved in such a toxic work environment. You may be a perpetrator or a victim; chances are you’re both – shit flows downhill you know. Someone disrespects you and you have no comeback, so (conscious or not) you find yourself an easy target.

    I have more to say on this conflicting idea. Every time I tell the locker poo story I get different reactions: some laugh hysterically, some recoil in disgust, others get very angry and every once in a while, a person will sit and think on it after one of those reactions subsides. If they do, the result is almost always sadness.

    “A Sense of Freedom” (1981)

  • WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE: Your Taste in Tunes on Trial

    It was a nerve-racking experience taking that cassette out of its case and slipping it into the tape deck. “You guys are gunna love this!” you would assert with a nervous smile. As soon as you pressed play your musical taste was on trial. That first song could make or break your reputation. The mob could be ruthless. If that song wasn’t on point, they wouldn’t hesitate to let it be known. The intro was usually enough to announce what YOU considered a good song; one that would be the opener for your mixtape.

    If you heard “awwww”, and not the ‘how cute’ kind, you were done. Laughter, unless it was a funny song, was also a huge thumbs down. A more brutal critic might slam you with: “turn that shit off!”, or “this sux!” and without a swift defence from someone with sway you were sacked. A silent assassin walking over, pressing stop, then eject and handing you back your tape was a cruel coup de grace.

    Silence without movement was an edge-of-your-seat affair. You scan the room looking at people’s faces. Maybe their eyes are staring upwards in contemplation, like a judge on MasterChef after taking the first bite from your offering. What next? Is that a smile forming? Hang on! I think it’s confusion. They’re looking around now; oh shit! They are gunna wait for another opinion. Torture!

    If you survive the first song ordeal without a direct rejection, your next test will be based on your compatibility competence. Not only is the song on trial, but also the way it compliments or clashes with its predecessor. A mismatch, unless it proves to be some kind of juxtapositional genius, will lose you points instantly. You’ll hear things like: “Yeah, this is a good song, but it doesn’t fit here”, or worse: “what the fuck is this doing here?”

    This would be an ongoing barometer for the duration of your tape. The more songs you nail the more forgiving the room becomes. Most of that criteria would be familiar even to the Spotify generation; except for the cassette and tape player part. Although the half-time ruling doesn’t exist in the digital realm. This is where you make it to the end of side 1 of your mix. A victory no doubt, but the ultimate tick of approval comes when you hear “turn it over!”. They want more! You’ve created something special.

    However, the major difference ‘when I was your age’ back in the 80s and early 90s was finding your material. It was much tougher to source the songs for your compilation before the internet and the technology for burning your own CDs. These mixtapes were actual cassette tapes; where the mixtape term came from if you didn’t already know.

    The easiest method was to buy the single (cassingle) from a record store. Not too expensive and you also get a bonus track or two that might provide a hidden gem. Problem there was that not every great song on an album was released as a single. Purchasing every album that has a small selection of tracks you want can get very pricey very fast!

    One way around this was exploring the collections of family and friends. Most people didn’t mind lending you an album for a while so you could record your chosen songs to a blank cassette using one of the wonders of our generation – the double tape deck stereo!

    One way around this was exploring the collections of family and friends. Most people didn’t mind lending you an album for a while so you could record your chosen songs to a blank cassette using one of the wonders of our generation – the double tape deck stereo!

    This could be a slow labour of love, but it was worth it to have your favourite tunes right there on a few tapes. I remember the joy of writing the song titles on that little piece of lined cardboard that sat inside the cassette case. That was your song list; the table of contents for your mixtape. The list of songs you have hunted down and copied for your personal collection.

    Now we hit a serious conundrum for the melody acquirer: making a copy from a copy decreases the sound quality every time it is done. You have exhausted all your sources trying to find that one song and the best you could find was your mates mixtape. You have a decision to make here my friend: how bad do you want that song on your tape?

    If this is the original copy you may not notice the little drop in audibility and if it is for your own personal use, why not. If you try and sneak it past on your mixtape for the gang, you’re taking a risk. Anyone who notices may call you out and that is a strike against your credibility.

    I must repeat our isolation in the land down under here. Finding non-mainstream music or just something older, but a bit obscure was a big ask. Even if you could afford to buy imported stuff, there wasn’t many stores that had it sitting on the shelves for you to sample. They might be able to order something for you if you knew the title and artist, which is another big ask if you heard it at a party or club, or even on the radio and missed the announcement.

    Even if you heard it, how good is your memory? Do you carry a pen and paper with you always? Did you even hear it correctly? How can you check?

    Basically, the opportunities to even hear foreign music that wasn’t mainstream were scarce. We simply didn’t have many radio stations playing unconventional music. It would usually be a community station that had specialised programs like: Reggae Wednesday, Heavy Metal Midnight, R&B Afternoons, Techno Tuesday.

    Now you have a small window where you get to hear songs form off the beaten tracks. Do not forget though there will be no advanced menu regarding what the playlist was going to be. This made it a veritable fishing expedition. Sitting in front of the tape recorder, listening to the radio with the play, record and pause buttons all pressed to allow speedy operation as soon as you heard the announcer say what the next song was going to be. This method meant you only had to remove the pause, and the recording would begin quickly and smoothly.

    You had to time it so that you didn’t capture the announcer’s voice but still got the maximum intro to the song; a fine balance. Radio DJs had a knack for shutting up just before the lyrics kicked in, but some of those assholes loved the sound of their own voices so much that they chattered away over too much of the song’s opening and fucked your shit up! Motherfuckers! You could never be sure when you would get another chance to capture that rare gem.

    The easiest version of this goldmining was when they played the top 40 (or whatever number) for the week. If the song you wanted was on there you at least had an idea of where it was going to be. Of course, if you fucked this task up and your audience heard that announcer’s voice your clout would take a big hit! No shame in taking the free option but using your failed attempt rather than trying again for a clean intro shows a distinct lack of effort and pride in your work.

    Oh! And never forget that DJ might decide to start yacking before the song ends too -asshole! At least you could cut that out, but it could leave you questioning if your edit ends too abruptly.

    It could certainly be forgiven if you managed to capture a hard-to-find masterpiece. You might even garner kudos if you unearthed something unique – EUREKA! Trying to pass-off a sloppy save from the weekly radio chart show is just laziness. You have no respect for the mixtape craft, and you should keep your clumsy and unambitious drivel for yourself and your Walkman. That’s not a mixtape my friend, that is just a tape with a bunch of songs recorded on it, and if I have to explain why, I am talking to a philistine.

    If you managed to prevent anyone from interrupting the flow of your selections, you are one of the good ones. It’s awesome to receive compliments on your knack for the art but just knowing that your friends enjoyed your creation is praise enough. Nothing needs to be said if it played till the end without interference, unless the group is stoned; that might give another explanation. If not, congratulations!

    Who’s next?

  • WE NEED TO DIG A LITTLE DEEPER: Two Sides (At Least) To Every Story

    “Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, you’ll be a mile from them, and you’ll have their shoes”

    Jack Handy

    I remember one of my first philosophy lectures. A simple story about keeping your promise hit a raw nerve with me. It went something like this: You promised your boss you would come in early today. The alarm goes off and you emerge from slumber to hear that it’s pissing down outside. You know it’s cold too. It’s so warm in bed. That early start may well become a day off.

    The teacher told it so casually and sounded like he was perfectly fine with it. You bastard! As the Q&A progressed it became clear that whether he approved of such behaviour was beside the point. The reason he told the story that way was because it was from the point of view of the shirker.

    “I’m nice and cozy here, the place won’t collapse without me” was the justification that person made. So, it pissed you off? Explain why. Give logical and valid reasons. ‘It pissed you off’ is the emotion; what about the snoozer’s attitude caused that? A lack of integrity is a good start… and we had a very lively discussion based on one simple scenario.

    It can be very uncomfortable to step into someone else’s POV and genuinely try and see their experience; good and bad. You learn a hell of a lot. Obviously, you cannot work out another person’s motivations through a thought experiment. It is near impossible to figure out our own most of the time. What you do get, more often than not, is one or more unique perspectives on whatever situation you are contemplating.

    Not everyone’s cup of tea, I am sure. If it’s yours, you may well be a closet philosopher, if not you certainly have the temperament to be a writer. You enjoy trying on new personalities and creating hypothetical situations. So without further ado, I will begin with a corporate theme:

    “This company doesn’t reward loyalty!”

    Loyalty! You asshole! Dragging your miserable ass in here every other day and slowly decreasing your output throughout the years is hardly loyalty! You should be thanking us for keeping you and your decreasing performance on the payroll you fucking passenger! Lurking is not loyalty mate. Loyalty, as in true devotion would have seen you either improve or fuck off and make way for the next person. Fall on your sword like a samurai you selfish prick!

    Profits above all else! We all knew that was the true goal. All those other slogans were just for show:

    “Safety is our number 1 priority” – yeah right, we lose profits wrapping our employees in cotton wool while our competitors steal our market share.

    “Our people come first” – Only as long as they are useful. If we can do it cheaper or more efficiently it’s goodbye Charlie. You can’t maximise profits carrying dead weight! Fucken labour laws. Why isn’t ‘useless asshole’ good enough grounds for dismissal?”

    Wow! That was a little too easy to get into character. I think it even went into first-person there too. Was that empathy or wishful impersonation? You know what they say about power and corruption?

    On the point about loyalty, here’s something I wrote a while back:

    I had a stark realisation while joking about a coworker’s long service bonus recently. Clearly, we all see this as a well-earned reward, so the joke played on that idea. When he told me he was getting it I put on my best authoritarian voice and said: “You’ve been with us for 20 years and we did not sack you, no need to thank us. Get back to work.” No gift card, no extra leave. I thought it was pretty funny and people seemed to be amused.

    The realisation that struck me was from something I had said in all seriousness many years prior, when people were being relocated from government housing with Sydney Harbour views. Their common complaint was: “I’ve lived here for X number of years” (usually 20 or more!). “You’re welcome” was my sarcastic response to that. You won the Housing Commission lottery and got to live there, while others ended up in slums and you want to use the time you had there as a reason for exemption; entitlement anyone?

    Looking at the long service award through this lens I was struck by the similarity. This guy may or may not have been a hard worker when he started out with the company. I didn’t know him then. After years of monotony and disillusionment he slowly but surely started decreasing his effort. After 20 years of the relentless grind and all the aches and pains that accumulate with it, he is practically phoning in his performance; doing nothing but the bare minimum (and less if possible) each day.

    That joke and the Houso comment have an eerie connection. I often hear how loyalty is not rewarded in an angry tone from people. Well, they didn’t sack you despite your blatant decline in work ethic. They spared you the most grueling tasks and gave them to the new and younger blokes. What more do you want? I could be tarred and feathered for saying such things!

    Of course, it doesn’t help the situation when this guy has watched bludgers and idiots move up to supervisory and management positions. People who were just as slack, or more so, as he was. People who moved up the ladder to avoid doing physical work but are absolutely useless as leaders. It is so frustrating when a person who was a consummate deadshit when they worked beside you is now stalking you and trying to pressure you to work harder. The contempt such hypocrisy breeds is palpable! You must wonder if they really have that short of a memory? Asshole!

    I have no doubt in my mind that many managers and higher ups think of long-term employees in that derogatory way. I have also seen my fair share of long-term workers taking the piss and getting away with it. Although I have seen just as many new and young employees doing the same. Not to mention a host of imposters in leadership roles who “couldn’t run a fucken chook raffle!”

    I don’t know what happened to the hat analogy, but we’ll end here. Cheers.

    The Imagined Ideal

  • POTENTIAL DEATH OR SERIOUS INJURY: True Stories #26

    I was just lurking about on the dock this one afternoon at work. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Daniel drive into the back of a trailer on his forklift. Next I heard the crunching sound of the dock leveller dropping down because the truck had pulled away from the dock. At first I did not notice anything wrong with this situation.

    As I focussed on the scene, I could see Daniel reversing back out of the trailer with a pallet on his tines. The truck was moving forward. This all took place in a very short space of time, but it was as if time had slowed down. It almost seemed like an optical illusion. The forklift was reversing back towards the rear door of the trailer and the trailer was moving forward away from the dock. The gap was getting wider and wider.

    It is a large drop out of the back of one of these trailers.

    Then it hits me: THE TRUCK IS PULLING AWAY FROM THE DOCK AND DANIEL IS REVERSING OUT OF THE TRAILER!!!

    HOLY SHIT!

    I opened my mouth to shout out a warning, but all that came out was a jumbled mess. Something like “AAAHWOOOSHIIISTOOODAANNN!!!”

    Luckily for all involved it was enough to get Daniel’s attention and he hit the brakes on his forklift. The rear wheels actually dropped out of the rear of the trailer; but the bulk of the forklift remained in the truck. Daniel was sitting there in shock. The prime mover stopped and the driver jumped out. He looked back to see the forklift teetering out of the back of the trailer and placed his hands either side of his head in horror.

    Fuck that was close!

    Incident reports had to be filled out, and I got plenty of laughs as I tried to describe the warning I yelled out. I was hoping for “Daniel stop!” or something similarly coherent; but my mind was reeling from the panic. Regardless, I am glad I made enough noise to get Daniel’s attention and avert a very serious accident causing massive trauma or possible death.

  • HAD MORE THAN ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT: Rise of the Tycoons #22

    “I’M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I’M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE!”

    Network (1976)

    In regard to empires and/or powerful nations I have mentioned a few ways for them to falter or fall altogether: All manner of political machinations and treachery can displace a rightful leader without any need of overt violence; maybe an assassination here or there on the sly perhaps. However, some do prefer the expediency of a military coup, although this may set a very messy precedent resulting in civil war.

    Invasion and subjugation may have less to do with the internal politics of a state than the previous perils, but bad governance can be responsible for weakening an empire or creating hostilities with powerful peers. If that is the case, all three calamities stem from a hollowing out of the core. A weakening of the belief structure that holds a society together.

    Citizens lose confidence in their leaders. They begin to doubt the validity of the institutions and conventions they once held high. It could take the shape of anger or apathy at a seemingly unfair system. Maybe it emerges as decadence or nihilism at a complete lack of meaning. Either way the empire rots from inside and the foundations become shaky.

    Whether going soft through debauchery or lack of passion you become vulnerable to any antagonists. The sharks, be they internal or external can sense the blood in the water. The only way to restore faith in the system may well be a dramatic upheaval at the top. Not merely a massive election defeat, a total ousting; hostile takeover!  Be it political chicanery or Colonel Coup and his skullduggery soldiers, a regime change is on the cards.

    While either of these outcomes represent a monumental failure, there is another outcome that leaves little doubt as to where the popular opinion lies among the citizenry – revolution! No ifs, buts or maybes; the ones running this state fucked up big-time!

    These people misread the room to such a staggering degree that the very sheep on whose backs’ they ride have tossed them in the dirt. There will be a reckoning and there will be blood! To be on the receiving end of a population pushed too far is horrific fate indeed. I mean we’re talking “let them eat cake” kind of out of touch stupidity here.

    The heads being called for will now see, for probably the first time ever, how precarious their power can be. If they are fortunate enough to have the military and any other security forces on side they may stand a chance. Although continuing to govern after a violent uprising will require some serious brutality and paranoia.

    If the populous is well equipped and intensely devoted to their cause things could go either way. If they manage to sway the military and/or security forces to join the revolt, things are looking very grim indeed for the aristocracy.

    Let’s assume the insurrection is successful. Heads roll, blood flows and many more are incarcerated or exiled. What happens after the smoke clears?

    The grievance responsible for most insurgencies usually stemmed from wealth inequality and the lack of rights for the peasantry. Basically, the poor were fed up with being treated like shit. Not an uncommon complaint; pretty fucking universal actually! Only the degree varies. The haves always seem to want more and are often oblivious to the misery of the unwashed masses.

    Fucken hell! Egypt, considered one of the ‘cradles of civilisation’, built the bloody pyramids! One of the first empires, and their most enduring legacy is monstrous status symbols built by countless slaves and exploited workers! Civilisation? Not much has changed.

    So, every once in a while the conditions are just right, and a few sparks set the seething lower class alight.

    “Equal rights and justice

    And if he doesn’t get it

    He’s gon’ to take it any way and anyhow…”

    “Can’t hold us anymore

    We’ve had enough of jive and bluff

    We want our share for sure.”

    “Piece of the Pie” Jimmy Cliff

    A champion (or shit stirrer, take your pick) comes along and convinces the plebs the time has come. “The suffering ends now!” The organisers who get behind this leader do so because they share the distress of the aggrieved and are willing to go all in for victory. The willingness to go to war with one’s own ruling class does not come about lightly. It is spawned by overwhelming resentment and furious anger. That kind of passion cannot be faked. The imposters will wait and see how things turn out before stepping into full view.

    I do not know where the tipping point is, but once the balance shifts from protests and riots to full on uprising there is going to be carnage and mayhem!  The people in the thick of it are in a life and death struggle; defeat is death. Those who lead (at least near the front) are true devotees to the mission of bringing down the cruel overlords and bringing tangible change to the lives of the downtrodden.

    The Russians called for “Land, peace and bread”

    The French wanted “Liberty, Equality and Fraternity”

    The soon to be United State of America screamed “Give me liberty or give me death!”

    These and other successful tyrant takedowns all had a similar theme; that of stop shitting on us and share the fucking food, and all the other good stuff you motherfuckers are hoarding”

    Those leading the charge had noble enough intentions and were genuinely striving for a better society. Sadly: “The road to hell is paved with good intentions” (Saint Bernard). I am sure the people who took control after the victory were honourable; they were also naïve in many ways. They overestimated the efficacy of their new and improved model of society, and they underestimated the darker side of human nature.

    I will go into more detail about the various visions of a fairer state; some were more successful than others; some are all but extinct now. The troubling thought I will conclude on is this: in every single scenario after the purge eliminated the ‘bad’ leaders, it didn’t take very long for a new guard to manoeuvre themselves to the top spots and bask in the ill-gotten gains of exploitation and crookery. New system, new leaders – same appalling gap between rich and poor; same unscrupulous behaviour benefitting those at the top, while sucking the lower class dry.

    “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

    Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr

  • LYRICAL MUSINGS #2

    “This city desert makes you feel so cold.

    It’s got so many people, but it’s got no soul

    And it’s taken you so long to find out you were wrong

    When you thought it held everything”

    _______________________________________________________________________________

    Here you have a choice. Relish the lyrics as they are; or read my subjective interpretation.

    The fact that I will use so many words attempting to capture what the songwriter captured in so few should help with your decision.

    The magic is all there in four lines.

    The following is my experience when I hear these lyrics and that itself changes over time.

    I have wanted to find a way to plug this into a post since I very first began. It never seemed to fit, so here it is. Gerry Rafferty’s lament over the fading façade of the big city. Almost like a reply to songs in the vein of “New York, New York” that sell the fantasy of endless opportunity among the bright lights.

    New York, Hollywood. Anywhere that’s not this shitty little town in the middle of nowhere or this endless suburban landscape of mediocrity. Gunna get my ass to metropolis and stake my claim! Become a big shot: fame, fortune, success!

    People flock to these melting pots with all manner of aspirations, but whatever the specific goal may be in (showbiz, business, politics) the wish is the same – happiness! Many will get chewed up and spat out. Most will fall into some kind of groove and eek out an existence. Some will find love and/or joy living a modest life with a decent income and home. Very few will “make it”, whatever the fuck that means anyway.

    The person in this song does not seem to be scaling the lofty heights of their chosen destination. If success was the penthouse, they appear to be toiling away in the dingy lobby. Not necessarily the underbelly, but very fucken far from the glitz and glamour of their dreams. At this point they would be happy to get a room on the first floor.

    Surrounded by countless others coming to terms with a similar rude awakening. All that crushed ambition shuffling along on grimy streets looking longingly up at the lights in the luxurious apartment buildings. Those ‘winners’ ride high on the backs of the never-ending supply of wannabes streaming into the city every day.

    Yeah, it’s a bummer, but what an awesome four lines. 36 words hit the target dead centre! I just spent 266 writing my clunky attempt at laying out some kind of explanation about how those words hit me and I could write more and still never capture the poignancy it stirs. So I will stop here.

  • CORPORATE CONFUSION: Can We Make This Pay?

    Moe: Hey, Homer came up with the drink, but I came up with the idea of charging $6.95 for it.

    The Simpsons: “Flaming Moe’s”

    The tale of the artist/inventor being duped is a way too common one. Being gifted and then putting in the time and effort required to create something great doesn’t leave a lot of time for learning business skills. Taking that valuable talent/invention etc. and using it to create revenue is a different skill entirely and neither skillset can squeeze anywhere near as much money going solo compared to working together.

    If integrity and transparency exist, we can end right here and wish these partners the best. It does happen, I’m sure; we just rarely hear about it because there’s no drama in things running smooth. Also, when it comes to shared endeavours and money people have a tendency to put a lot more emphasis on their contribution over that of the others.

    In the case of our mates Homer and Moe we have a clear division: Homer invented the cocktail and Moe had the means of distribution. This is often the sticking point for most fledgling entrepreneurs and/or inventors: how to get your product to the customer? If, like the Flaming Homer, it can be easily made and served, you have the benefit of skipping the whole manufacturing process; which introduces a whole new bunch of ‘partners’.

    However, if the Flaming Homer/Moe was to move to the next level, it would definitely require mass production, and I doubt Moe has the means and necessary licenses for that undertaking. Thus, it probably would have ended much like the episode was headed before Homer spilled the beans. They would have sold the rights to a manufacturer; at best they would have gotten a percentage agreement.

    So, I suppose it would have extended the quote a little:

    “Yeah, Homer came up with the drink and Moe made it popular, but those small timers never could have taken it national and supplied the market.”

    Technology has broken down many of the barriers that held the little guys down, so maybe a comparison of the old and new gatekeepers is in order:

    For the budding entrepreneur the game changed significantly with the likes of eBay and Amazon combined with electronic payment systems. Nowadays if you can figure out how to safely and securely mail your merchandise for the right price you’ve got a fighting chance. Might have a bit of trouble mailing potted plants you sold on the internet though.

    That kind of stuff probably still requires some kind of store. I remember my sister and her homemade scented candle phase. She sold a lot through word of mouth and people grabbing them straight from her. Once a month she would have a stall at a local market on a Sunday and turn a small profit. Her biggest boost came when the people who ran a second-hand goods store across from her house agreed to sell them. I don’t know about the split, but she never gave up her day job, and I never saw any obvious signs of wealth. She eventually branched out into mail orders, but the time and effort became too much, so it petered out slowly.

    My mother had her own money-making idea regarding her lush garden after seeing the price of many plants she had growing profusely in her yard. Just buy the pots and soil and voila! They wouldn’t keep them in the 2nd hand store, so we left them on my sister’s porch and posted a sign in their window. They were nicked before her next market day.

    We never invested any more time into ironing out the details and therefore we never became merchants. Who’d have guessed it takes research and persistence to get a feasible business up and running? Cue the coming together of the ideas-man/woman and the business savvy sidekick.

    Thinking of them as a sidekick would probably be your first mistake in terms of underestimating their potential; both to make or break the mission. Not to mention rip you right off if you’re not paying attention. Something as transferable as making scented candles from packets or potting profitable plants from a prolific garden probably wouldn’t justify such a specialist; that would have to be you.

    However, if you have a unique product or talent. Or maybe a new design or twist on an old one, you may require the assistance of an experienced representative. Someone to tout your wares and get a good price: a manager, an agent, a promoter – in short, a hustler! Herein lies the warning. This person has spent years learning and fine tuning their skills of persuasion; gathering contacts and figuring out how to maximise profits from the fruits of other’s labour.

    “As hard as I worked in the gym and the ring, there were hundreds of people working just as hard figuring out how to get my money.”

    Paraphrasing something I heard Mike Tyson say once.

    Don King was not an anomaly. He was extremely good at what he did, but he wasn’t a new character. For all intents and purposes Michael Gudinski was a saint in terms of equitable music promotion. Although my inner cynic cannot disregard an old saying about con-men: “the best cons go unnoticed”. Maybe the notorious Mr King wasn’t as clever as we all thought and the real G.O.A.T of the grifters is out there being hailed as a person of impeccable character. I have no reason to suspect Mr Gudinski just for the record. It was just one of those devil’s advocate thoughts that pop up.

    Either way, the inherent talent, training and effort you put into creating your art, skill or widget, has probably been matched by the person best suited to be your mouthpiece and moneyman. Your cousin Fred may mean well and have your best interests at heart, but there was a reason I left out the word marketable from the first sentence of this paragraph. Who decides what is marketable? A quality spin doctor with good contacts can open doors and make things happen.

    Hell, a brilliant one would have an honest crack at selling a polished turd and I wouldn’t bet against their success. A good product/idea with a great hustle can easily outperform a technically better competitor if the sales pitch sucks.

    And on that note, I shall conclude. As usual we will return and turn over some more rocks in the future.