IN WHICH I RANT ABOUT CAPITALISM

I don't mean to be controversial or anything, but work is a really weird thing. Why do we climb into metal boxes every morning and travel across town to sit in a room full of people who don't want to be together?

Why do we force ourselves to stare at computer screens through coffee-widened eyes, or play at grand-decision making, secretly knowing that deep inside, this stuff doesn't actually matter? And why can't we say that? We call it professionalism, but in reality it's the opposite of professing anything- it's repressing the reality of the world outside the window like consummate method actors in a very dull performance.

While we're at it, why do we send cheery-sounding emails to people who are difficult to talk to? Why do we sit thinking things through in darkened meeting rooms, looking at confusing Excel spreadsheets projected large on the wall? Why do we shuffle to the kitchen and eat cake that reminds us that the real world used to be, has always been, and still is... sweeter than this?

Why do we talk in code? Jargon and three-letter acronyms make us sound as though we know what we're talking about, but who really knows what SPF, SLA, TLS and KPIs are? I mean what they really are. The other day, someone asked me:

"What's FQDN?" and with cat-like reflexes I rattled off what I'd read somewhere some time ago and lodged in my fact folder: "Fully Qualified Domain Name"

"What does it mean?"

"I... don't know."

Well I sort of do know: it's to do with the way a system recognises domain names. But I certainly don't know enough to sound so confident. And that's it, isn't it? We're all pretending - in fact, us technical authors make a living out of pretending we know what we're writing about. 90% bluff.

But don't let me be disingenuous: I do know why we do it. This is the 'system', the grand imperial, Capitalist idea, where wealth trickles from the top like a broken fountain. As long as we get a good deal, enough to survive, enough to provide, enough to exist in the world, then we go along with it - it's the art of the deal in its rawest form.

Some of us even imagine we can scramble up the fountain a bit without falling into the water. Some of us spend our days wondering whether or not that's really worth the climb.

Well.

I set out not wanting to be controversial, and now I'm pulling at the fabric of the western world. You shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you, right?

Speaking of which, I bought a protein bar today. I walked happily from the car to the office, unwrapping it and trying to figure out how much protein it contained. I pulled the bar out of the wrapper, lost in thought, so I could examine the ingredients list and the quantities... and then very absent-mindedly slipped the protein bar into the bin. It fell in with a thud.

I was left holding the wrapper with a disappointed look on my face, as though not quite sure who to blame.

Capitalism, eh.