I wrote this on someone’s Facebook wall and decided I would clean it up and make it into a blog post. By the way, I know that I lapsed and missed a few days after my huge streak to start the year. There was a death in my family and I also had a hectic trip from NYC to Las Vegas. Anyway:
“Professionalism” is about conformity to a *very* narrow idea of success. It assumes the worst about people – that what we look like is somehow indicative of our worth and that snap judgments (“baggy clothes, no good”) are merited. It’s ironic that so many “professional” organizations take extensive measures to ensure that they don’t discriminate (Internet job applications have been a godsend for HR departments in this regard, since they can facelessly turn someone away without having to worry about allegations that appearance was an issue) yet constantly discriminate on nonsense like whether you’re wearing a suit or not and, more subtly, if you even have enough money and status to really be a “professional.” If you want proof that the suit-dominated world is one that has its roots in patriarchy, then look at the suit’s history as something that men wore while hunting in centuries past.
I find that the word “professional” when used as a self-descriptor is filler – there are so many other terms that could be substituted that would tell me more about you. But, its usage makes sense: It’s a keyword for a certain type of hierarchy, a differentiator meant to cut off all those “non professionals” who have to wear company-supplied uniforms (think fast food or retail) or lope around in jeans and a hoody.
Speaking of which, this is one of the few areas in which I think Silicon Valley has actually been an improvement over older corporatism. Say what you want about Mark Zuckerberg, but him wearing a hoodie to his meeting with bankers before Facebook’s IPO was a strong symbol of the gap between freedom (to wear whatever one wants) and conformity (having to wear a suit all the time). Weird how only the rich and poor (especially in the service area), by and large, can escape the professionalism trap without any consequences.
Obsession with clothing in the workplace, enforced from above by management, is, I think, a symptom of what Paul Krugman has called in his economic articles “Very Serious People,” who present airs of seriousness – Solving Big Problems, Having No Time For Nonsense – that belie their actual non-serious positions, which can run the gamut from fretting about Medicare funding during the Great Recession (Krugman’s classic example) or, similarly, worrying about *attire* in organizations that have the material resources to – if they wanted to – drop the patriarchal politics and enact enormous change for the better. That was a long sentence
Tomorrow I’ll post something longer since I think I’ll finally feel recovered enough (and maybe my hand-chapping will be better). For now, I was going through stories in the DuckDuckGo app and saw a somewhat fatalistic column in Vice about robots and jobs. It had the usual language assigning so much agency to robots and abstract forces like “automation,” rather than, of course, the people making the decisions leading to these outcomes.
“As more and more automated machinery are brought in to generate efficiency gains for companies, more and more jobs will be displaced, and more and more income will accumulate higher up the corporate ladder. The inequality gulf will widen as jobs grow permanently scarce—there are only so many service sector jobs to replace manufacturing ones as it is—and the latest wave of automation will hijack not just factory workers but accountants, telemarketers, and real estate agents.”
All of this is possible (likely, even), but if one had only read this column, then she might believe that it was inevitable and not a matter of political choices. Slate fortunately ran a piece just yesterday on the analogous subject of income inequality, in which the author chronicled the history of labor unions that won incredible concessions from the corporations and robber barons of the 19th and early 20th centuries – as uphill a struggle as imaginable, but one showing what’s possible with dedication and focus.
The current state of affairs, with rising inequality yet apparent public indifference (no protests, etc.), is, according to historian Steve Fraser, attributable to “public admiration for workaholic entrepreneurs whose self-serving definition of freedom legitimizes their reign.” That seems like a fungible, highly reversible mindset rather than something decreed for eternity.
In his most recent “Common Sense” podcast, Dan Carlin did a good job of explaining how everyone seems to be resigned to the Vice writer’s outlook, though. Basically, he argued, the free market, whatever its merits, has basically been off-limits for serious philosophical debate since the end of the Cold War. It’s not hard to imagine, though, that many workers in America and elsewhere at least subconsciously belief in hard work more than they do the free market, though politicians, especially on the right in the U.S., have long tried to conflate the two. Imagine if he we had one of the serious debates on the topic that Carlin imagines.
I’m not sure what it will take for people to finally prioritize their own interests over the acquiescence shown to abstract concepts like “innovation” and “progress” that have a spotty moral track record. It seems like real action is far away for now given how much the technology media is committed to the narrative of robots, “disruption.” and job cycles. Knowing what it was like to search for jobs for months with seemingly no hope about 5 years ago, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, no matter what robotics-driven benefits accrued to the upper strata of society.
My output has been slowed a bit recently due to some weird chapping of my hands. No matter how much lotion I seem to put on, they’re still peeling and it feels weirdly uncomfortable to type. So I have turned my hands to some other tasks like cooking.
Back in 2009 and 2010, I cooked a lot since I had almost nothing else to do because I worked only part time. The oven I had in my second apartment ever got hot too quickly and was not very good for baking. I mainly cooked breakfast (bacon, eggs), the occasional piece of tuna steak or pork chop, and instant mashed potatoes. I gained a lot of weight during this period and didn’t lose most of it until 2013.
My current apartment has better appliances although it is very space-constrained, which makes moving around difficult. The challenge has been invigorating, though. Today I made some turkey burgers mostly following a recipe from Anne Burrell. It seemed absurd at first – I mixed in the turkey, grated ginger, onions, garlic, breadcrumbs, soy sauce, and a quarter-cup of water. It was soggy and gross.
With some handwork though, the patties finally came together. If there’s one issue with ground turkey, it’s that it’s so dry, so all that water and soy sauce was needed to keep the burgers moist after the molding, cooking, and resting. I also added some sautéed peppers and mayonnaise to the final burger and bun combo to ensure that it was thoroughly juicy.
Cooking is like writing in that it seems to never feel good – at least for me – while it’s occurring. Everything seems to be going wrong – maybe that seasoning was too heavy, maybe that paragraph veered off from the rest of the piece – but it seems that if enough anxiety is expended, then somehow it will turn out ok.
Anxiety is sort of to writing what salt and elbow grease are to cooking, in my experience. More so than passion, it makes everything work. It force the mind to go through different dead-ends, possibilities, and pitfalls, to produce something that has direction and holds together against all that could tear it apart.
Today was a transitional one (and a holiday here in the U.S., Presidents Day – a third-tier holiday, but still a day off), and I spent most of my time around the house adjusting to the London-to-NYC time change. Now watching a mysteriously acclaimed film called “The Master,” directed by Paul Thomas Anderson.
The soundtrack, by Radiohead guitarist Johnny Greenwood, is reminiscent of that that accompanied another Anderson film, “There Will Be Blood,” which Greenwood also scored. Radiohead the band never did that much for me – too anodyne, too acclaimed by Internet trolls – but Greenwood’s soundtrack work is nicely asynchronous – it doesn’t go with the action on-screen and instead sort of becomes its own imaginary plot line.
The music over the opening beach and ship scenes, for instance, makes me think of a dance occurring in the desert, which obviously isn’t what’s unfolding on the screen. In a way, the Greenwood soundtrack is a throwback to the silent movie era, in which music dominated the proceedings because dialogue didn’t exist. It’s like he is dragging music from another era into the present, which is perfect for “The Master”‘s blend of meticulous 21st century film making and portrayal of a bygone era.
Feeling jet lagged after a great trip to London for the weekend. While riding business class on the way back, I finally finished up the last of three essays of Nietzsche’s “On the Genealogy of Morals.” It started slow but the last half was an excellent argument about how Christian morality has so embedded itself in the West that even being an “atheist” is in some way just another stage in a long ascetic tradition – in this case, denying oneself the possibility of God’s existence.
There was also a passage about the strong versus the weak that resonated with me because of its arguments about herd mentality and meetings. I have always felt that meeting culture – “touching base,” having “a quick chat,” spewing 30- and 60-minute calendar blocks that probably merit only 5 minutes of time at most, etc. – was one of the most regrettable aspects of the workplace in the U.S. It’s like the corporate equivalent of church. So imagine my delight at this segment:
“[I]t should not be overlooked: the strong are as naturally inclined to strive to be apart as the weak are to strive to be together, when the former unite, this takes place only with a view to an aggressive collective action and collective satisfaction of their will to power, with much resistance from the individual consciences; the latter, on the contrary, gather together with pleasure at this very gathering, – their instinct is just as satisfied in doing this as the instinct of the born ‘masters’ is basically irritated and unsettled by organization.”
Meetings and gatherings of any kind, especially ones that involve, say, at least 3 people, are usually a waste of time for individuals who do their best work on their own. Being a cynic, I have often thought that the purpose of most corporate meetings is exhaustion – bringing people together in an ‘all-hands’ environment in which attention spans are tested and things are agreed to when no one is paying full attention. Opinions of people who don’t feel comfortable in the superficial environment of meetings – the ‘best’ argument doesn’t always win and is overcome by the best-sounding argument – are also crowded out.
I will write more about the last part of “On the Genealogy of Morals” later since it is really a treasure-trove of useful contrarian arguments against 21st century attitudes toward work. For now, though, I’ll note that Nietzsche talks about how the appeal of religion and the act of congregation – which these days has shifted in the U.S. from churches to workplaces – is the product of poor physical well-being (which needs some kind of relief) and wanting to be someone else. I can agree with that.