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Friday Afternoon Confessional: back on track or backtrack?

I confess some things should be as they were. Traditions provide comfort. I confess that this confession is provoked by a day struggling to be – I think this is a sufficiently universal term for it – independent. After today it strikes me that being (an?) independent involves being dependent, a lot, on the ability to chase practical and administrative things.

Gathering all of my courage (and a bunch of paperwork prepared by my accountant) I traveled  to the court. Well, the office of the clerk of some court. The building was the same as the one in which criminals are convicted. The people were nice. I handed over the paperwork expecting this or that stamp as a permanent testimony of me having faced the administrative music. Fat chance. A nice lady told me that my nice accountant – whom I hold no grudge – forgot a not so unimportant detail: to establish a partnership there has to be more than one partner.

Now I need to ask my partner to become my partner, my accountant to adapt the paperwork such that my partner is described as my partner & return to the court’s clerks to stamp me and my partner into partner-hood. If my partner in life is allowed by her boss to become my partner in business.

I confess after that doing the grocery shopping felt like the pinnacle of efficiency and effectivity combined (I see that the word “effectivity” gets a red wavy underlining from wordpress thesaurus. WordPress thesaurus should definitely be mandatory in corporate circles).

To remain on the topic of dependency, I further confess I’m on twitter now.

I also went to my telecom provider. Heeding experiences of a distant past I went there physically with 5-10 questions which I probably would have done better to jot down on a piece of paper. The people were nice. I started asking my questions (please change my e-mail address in your database such that I actually know how much I’ll pay you when my company stops paying on behalf of me). Fat chance. A nice boy who could be my son and definitely no longer my brother told me that the experiences I was heeding were out-of-date. Nowadays you could only change your profile on-line. He sympathized with the fact I could not access the on-line services for lack of logon, password and so on but the thing was that such things could be updated only by telephone.

The computer on the other side of the telephone told me it would send new data by SMS to my mobile. I’m still waiting for the text.

I confess that, after all that, writing a post that more or less nobody would read positively felt like Dries Mertens scoring, as a substitute, the winning goal against Algeria.

I didn’t complain to any of the nice people. Certainly at the court it felt like the next thing might be getting lost in a more modern version of The Trial. These offices sure feel slick and new but when faced with these organizational machines one has to watch out because if you’re not an eater you will be the eaten.  On the news I saw a clip of a lady working for a modern employer (competing for some ‘best employer’ award) who was cut when she told the task force – reading off one of the post-it notes which were neatly clustered on the modern all whiteboard wall – that ‘everybody agreed that the members of the task force should be the first to embody the recommendations of the task force.

I confess I’ll not miss change management work shops.

That said, I’m not even effectively fired and already homesick for these bloody IT/HR/legal departments who process your mess and get you subscribed/registered/paid. They’re maybe not very effective at it but at least you know who to shout at without having to worry about all the check marks, stamps and alike. All chances are that they effectively – albeit not always efficiently – reduce the amount of time people like me have to spend on not doing what we’re good at.

I confess to use ‘and alike’ more and more frequently in memory of one of my former esteemed colleagues.

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June 20, 2014 - Posted by | Friday Afternoon Confessional

2 Comments

  1. I confess it took me two visits and one profile in Slate to determine that Clickhole.com was a parody.

    Comment by Josh K-sky | June 21, 2014

  2. I confess I’m on a softball team where I’m 15 years older than most of the other players. I joke a lot and at least once a week, I’ll make a joke that brings the age discrepancy into stark relief.

    Comment by mattintoledo | July 1, 2014


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