The Will to Resist

I DON'T NEED MOTIVATION. I NEEDED YOU TO STOP MOVING THE FUCKING GOALPOSTS.

Jerry's Marginalia — By Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand

There is a special place in the deepest, sweatiest asshole of corporate America reserved for motivational speeches.

You know the ones.

"Everything happens for a reason."

"Keep your head up."

"Don't give up."

"Give it to the Lord."

Oh, how fucking beautiful.

Somebody fetch me a tissue.

Actually, fetch me a paycheck.

BECAUSE I CAN'T PAY MY FUCKING BILLS WITH INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES, KAREN.

And before some motivational goblin crawls out of LinkedIn to explain the healing power of positive thinking, allow me to introduce a revolutionary concept.

I WAS ALREADY FUCKING MOTIVATED.

I didn't need somebody to teach me the importance of showing up.

I SHOWED UP.

I didn't need somebody to explain the dignity of hard work.

I WORKED.

I didn't need somebody to tell me to keep my head up.

MY HEAD WAS UP FOR TWELVE FUCKING HOURS AT A TIME.

Six days on. Two days off.

Clock in. Do the job. Clock out.

Repeat.

I liked that arrangement.

I liked the hours.

I liked the work.

I liked the paychecks.

I WASN'T BEGGING TO BE RESCUED FROM EMPLOYMENT.

And somehow, in the magnificent administrative circus known as Haus Morgenrot, this apparently wasn't enough.

CHAPTER ONE: CONSISTENCY FOR THEE, CONFUSION FOR ME

Employers love consistency.

They fucking adore it.

They'll put it on a poster.

They'll include it in an employee handbook.

They'll spend forty-five minutes explaining its importance during orientation while somebody named Brenda struggles to connect a laptop to the projector.

"Employees must consistently follow established procedures."

Wonderful.

I agree.

Now here's a question.

CAN MANAGEMENT CONSISTENTLY ESTABLISH THE FUCKING PROCEDURES?

Because that's where this beautiful little relationship starts falling apart.

You want me to follow the rules?

Fine.

Tell me the rules.

Train me on the rules.

Apply the rules consistently.

And when something needs correcting, explain what needs correcting.

DON'T TURN THE EMPLOYEE HANDBOOK INTO A FUCKING MAGIC EIGHT BALL.

Ask again later.

Outlook unclear.

Sources say maybe.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN, MAYBE?

THIS IS MY LIVELIHOOD, NOT A FORTUNE COOKIE.

You cannot demand precision from the person holding the clipboard while the people writing the procedures apparently operate through interpretive dance.

CHAPTER TWO: THE TRAINING THAT WENT TO BUY MILK

Once upon a time, in a magical kingdom of bureaucratic nonsense, an employee was told additional training would be provided.

A perfectly reasonable solution.

Something happened.

Questions arose.

Training was discussed.

Wonderful!

Let's get everybody on the same page.

Except the training never arrived before the next incident.

Perhaps it was abducted.

Perhaps it wandered into the enchanted forest.

Perhaps it met the mythical creature known as Accountability and the two decided to elope.

Nobody fucking knows.

But apparently, the employee was still expected to operate as though the promised training had materialized through divine intervention.

NEW QUEST: COMPLETE TRAINING.

Training availability: Unknown.

NEW QUEST: FOLLOW UPDATED EXPECTATIONS.

Updated expectations: Consult your local wizard.

NEW QUEST: ACCEPT CONSEQUENCES.

Oh, THAT one works perfectly.

Funny how the consequences always seem to load faster than the support systems.

CHAPTER THREE: SIXTEEN DAYS OF CORPORATE MEDITATION

September 14.

Suspended.

September 15.

Waiting.

September 20.

Still waiting.

September 25.

Still fucking waiting.

September 30.

Terminated.

SIXTEEN DAYS.

Sixteen days during which the bills continued arriving with the punctuality of a German railway timetable written by Satan.

The phone company didn't suspend its billing cycle.

The grocery store didn't announce an administrative review of hunger.

The electric company didn't say:

"We understand your employer is investigating. Please take all the time you need."

NO.

THEY WANTED THEIR FUCKING MONEY.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the great administrative cathedral, a decision was apparently being prepared with the urgency of a three-toed sloth completing a crossword puzzle.

And here's the beautiful irony.

The employee who was expected to show up on time could be left waiting indefinitely for the employer to decide whether he still had a job.

PUNCTUALITY WAS MANDATORY FOR THE WORKER AND APPARENTLY OPTIONAL FOR THE ANSWER.

What an extraordinary fucking arrangement.

CHAPTER FOUR: HAVE YOU TRIED POSITIVE THINKING?

And now we arrive at my favorite species of corporate wildlife.

The Motivational Asshole.

A fascinating creature.

Usually spotted on LinkedIn, standing beside a photograph of a mountain, dispensing wisdom that sounds like it was extracted from a gas station bathroom calendar.

"Every setback is a setup for a comeback."

Oh, is it?

THEN WHERE THE FUCK IS THE COMEBACK DEPARTMENT?

DO THEY ACCEPT WALK-INS?

"Everything happens for a reason."

Excellent.

Please provide the reason, in writing, along with the relevant policy, date, and signature.

"Keep your head up."

MY HEAD WAS UP.

MY FEET WERE ON THE FLOOR.

MY ASS WAS AT WORK.

WHAT MORE DID YOU WANT, A FUCKING BACKFLIP?

"Give it to the Lord."

CAN THE LORD PROCESS MY UNEMPLOYMENT CLAIM?

CAN HE CONTACT PAYROLL?

DOES HE HAVE AN EXTENSION?

Because I have several questions, and apparently the heavenly customer service department doesn't publish its operating hours.

Now, here's the uncomfortable part.

I've probably said similar things myself.

I worked around people who were struggling.

People who needed encouragement.

People whose circumstances I couldn't magically change.

And maybe sometimes I offered words because words were the only thing I had available.

But there's a difference between offering somebody comfort and using comfort as a substitute for responsibility.

ENCOURAGEMENT IS NOT A REPLACEMENT FOR ACCOUNTABILITY.

You can pray with somebody.

You can encourage somebody.

You can tell somebody not to give up.

But if you're the person responsible for fixing a problem, perhaps consider FIXING THE FUCKING PROBLEM.

Revolutionary, I know.

CHAPTER FIVE: THE EMPLOYEE WAS NOT THE SIDE QUEST

Here's the part that truly pisses me off.

I didn't hate the work.

I didn't hate the schedule.

I didn't hate earning money.

I didn't spend every morning fantasizing about escaping the building.

I genuinely enjoyed the main quest.

SHOW UP. WORK. GET PAID. GO HOME.

Simple.

Beautiful.

Boring.

And boring, ladies and gentlemen, is a fucking luxury.

But apparently somebody decided my employment needed additional content.

HAUS MORGENROT: DIRECTOR'S CUT

Featuring:

All yours for the low, low price of your financial stability!

NO REFUNDS.

NO CUSTOMER SUPPORT.

NO FUCKING SKIP BUTTON.

And when you finally complain about the experience, some cheerful corporate goblin emerges from a ventilation shaft to announce:

"Remember! Challenges help us grow!"

I'M FORTY-FOUR FUCKING YEARS OLD. I'M NOT A GODDAMN CHIA PET.

I DON'T NEED TO BE WATERED WITH ADVERSITY.

I NEED A JOB THAT DOESN'T KEEP INVENTING NEW WAYS TO BECOME A PROBLEM.

CHAPTER SIX: I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING INSPIRATIONAL STORY

I don't want to become a LinkedIn success story.

I don't want somebody writing:

"He lost everything, but what happened next will inspire you!"

No.

Fuck off.

I don't want a dramatic comeback montage accompanied by royalty-free piano music.

I don't want to discover that unemployment was secretly the greatest blessing of my life.

I DON'T WANT MY SUFFERING REBRANDED AS A PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT OPPORTUNITY.

I want dependable work.

I want a paycheck.

I want a place of my own.

A kitchen.

A bedroom.

A big-ass television.

Four enormous hard drives.

Two cats.

My dog.

And enough peace and quiet to enjoy the things I actually give a shit about.

That's it.

No empire.

No throne.

No motivational seminar.

No twelve-step journey toward becoming the CEO of my own fucking destiny.

JUST LET ME LIVE MY BORING-ASS LIFE.

And if I sound angry?

GOOD.

Anger doesn't automatically mean somebody has lost perspective.

Sometimes it means they're tired of being handed motivational bumper stickers instead of meaningful answers.

FINAL CHAPTER: THE GOALPOSTS CAN GO FUCK THEMSELVES

Here's the entire argument.

I stayed consistent.

I showed up.

I worked.

I followed the routine.

I wanted to keep doing the job.

I wasn't asking for special treatment.

I wasn't asking to be worshipped.

I wasn't asking management to build a golden statue of me outside the employee entrance.

I wanted clear expectations, proper training, fair treatment, and timely communication.

And I wanted the same consistency from the organization that it expected from me.

THAT'S NOT A FUCKING MIRACLE.

THAT'S BASIC PROFESSIONALISM.

So spare me the speeches.

Spare me the inspirational quotes.

Spare me the lectures about resilience, gratitude, and embracing adversity.

I have embraced enough adversity to qualify for a fucking frequent flyer program.

And please, for the love of every dumpster-dwelling raccoon in existence, stop telling people that everything happens for a reason when you have absolutely no intention of explaining what that reason is.

Because here's my final thought.

I DIDN'T NEED YOU TO MOTIVATE ME.

I WAS ALREADY MOTIVATED.

I NEEDED YOU TO STOP MOVING THE FUCKING GOALPOSTS.

And if that's too complicated for your administrative circus to understand?

Then perhaps the next mandatory training session should be for management.

Topic:

HOW TO PRACTICE THE CONSISTENCY YOU KEEP FUCKING PREACHING.

Attendance mandatory.

No inspirational posters permitted.

— Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand

Reporting from the dumpster, where the garbage is at least honest about being garbage.

P.S. If everything happens for a reason, somebody please explain why the fuck we keep giving microphones to motivational speakers.

🦝