Tradition
Wednesday, November 5th, 2008 | Filed under: Douchewords | No Comments
Proposition 8, a horrifyingly backward California initiative which will now enshrine bigotry permanently in the state’s constitution, has passed.
It was, we were told, a measure designed to defend “traditional marriage” – marriage between a man and a woman. Specifically, some argued, to the end of promoting “the family”.
But if Californians really have a desire to “defend traditional marriage”, surely they need to go much further. Divorce, for example – the single biggest force eroding marriage as an institution – should be made illegal. And if marriage is really primarily intended to fuel procreation, then shouldn’t we ban marriage amongst the obese, the infertile, those older than reproductive age, or those who profess no desire to give birth?
Put simply, “tradition” is not a viable defense for continuing the Status Quo. The cultures which, in turn, gave birth to our own had many traditions we now repudiate. Stoning to death, for example.
In its own right, the fact that something is traditional is not a defense of that thing; which is not to say that all traditions are bad. But here’s the thing – those traditions which many of us celebrate – events such as Halloween, Christmas, the ringing in of the New Year, Diwali, Chanukah or Rosh Hashanah – they don’t stand because they are traditions. They stand because they allow us to reaffirm a joy in life; a passing of the seasons; time spent celebrating with friends and family.
We don’t need to assert the “traditional” nature of these things. That they are traditional is entirely incidental to the personal importance each of us assigns to them.
To bring this back to the site’s primary focus, “traditions” do indeed rear their ugly head in the corporate world. Many is the floundering company which has attempted to assert direction by announcing “a renewed focus on our traditional business of (selling widgets/trading dog-food/selling advertising)”.
But as it is in life, so it is in the office. All that “traditional” means is that you’re out of ideas. If selling widgets is a good business to be in, the fact that you’ve been doing it for 10 years changes little. Perhaps it gives you a small experiential edge, but even experienced widget-makers can make crap widgets. And if the widget market has imploded, no amount of nostalgia is going to make your company magically work.
“Tradition” is a hollow rafter from which to hang your flag. A refuge for bigotry, fear and laziness, the word is shorthand for a lack of inspiration and a refusal to embrace progress.
On a day when America finally elected an African American president, thus moving beyond the racism which was once a tradition, it’s a tragedy that its most populous state simultaneously renewed and strengthened a long-lived attachment to bigoted views of sexual orientation.
This election season has been all about progress, and change. So wherever we are tempted to use it, let’s retire this ugly, abused word from our language once and for all.
It can be our newest tradition – to cling only to traditions which don’t need identifying as such.
Fundamentals
Thursday, October 16th, 2008 | Filed under: Douchewords | No Comments
“The fundamentals of our economy are sound.”
Yeah, I know, you’re fed up to death of hearing the back-and-forth and gleeful punditry on that little gaffe by a presidential candidate a few weeks back, but it neatly illustrates a point, so I’m afraid you’ll have to endure for a few words longer.
What was most interesting about McCain’s turn of phrase was not the spectacularly bone-headed timing of it, but the weaselly way he tried to spin it in the aftermath.
By “fundamentals”, we were told, he meant “the American worker“.
And there we go – that’s the problem with the word “fundamentals” right there. It’s a manilla folder – you can just shove whatever shit you like in there and call it “fundamentals”. And if you’re caught with your pants down, you just claim that you actually had some different fundamentals in the folder.
Stock market tanks? “Fundamentals” means “workers”. Engineering staff quit en mass? “Fundamentals” means “sales staff”.
The fundamentals of your discourse, in other words, are bullshit.
Bandwidth
Wednesday, October 8th, 2008 | Filed under: Douchewords | 1 Comment
It’s a very, very bad idea to ask anyone working in a technical capacity whether they “have enough bandwidth” for something.
You see, while you’re standing there burbling on about how you desperately need a spreadsheet illustrating how many of your customers happen to be Ukranian Pig Farmers, your geeky co-worker isn’t listening because he’s gone into a panic.
He’s wondering how you rumbled him, trying quietly to shut down his Bittorrent client without you noticing, and wondering glumly just how long it’s going to take to download the rest of Star Trek: The Next Generation on his crappy home DSL line.
“Bandwidth”, you see, has a specific, technical meaning, and when you use it metaphorically to mean “time” (in place of a perfectly good word like, uh, “time”) it becomes difficult to know what you’re fucking talking about.
Oh, I know. It’s not your fault. This particular little nugget of inter-office hatefulness was first dug up by pasty nerds deep in the bowels of some server room; the ones who wish that humans were as logical as their beloved silicon devices, and secretly believe that “pinging” people, rather than saying “hello”, will magically Make It So. The kind of people who, in a bygone age, sniggered suggestively when their computer asked them to “insert disk in drive A:”. The kind of people who have, in fact, never “inserted disk” in anything more welcoming than their own right hand.
And perhaps you think that all “those computer people” are the same, and that “using the lingo” is endearing. Believe me, it’s not.
Quite aside from the confusion caused and the fake geeky bonhomie involved, the term “bandwidth” is insulting for a simpler reason. Like “Resource” and “Headcount” before it, it’s dehumanising.
When you inquire about my bandwidth I start wondering if you’re secretly planning to tattoo an asset barcode on my ass, track my level of depreciation and then write me off against your tax bill in 4 years when the shiny new hardware comes out of the local Community College.
Words are important – they shape our perceptions of the world. And when I’m being referred to in the same terms as a database server, I worry that I’ll be seen as being just as replaceable when my “processor” finally “crashes” due to a Bullshit Overload.
So, my bandwidth will be a bit scarce until I at least finish downloading all the episodes where Captain Picard gets trapped on the Holodeck. But as for my time, I have a bit of that available, yeah…
…if you ask me the right way.
Thought Leaders
Wednesday, September 24th, 2008 | Filed under: Douchewords | No Comments
I’m excited to announce that I’m working on a new screenplay for a superhero movie. It’s called “THOUGHT LEADERS” (all-caps, just like that), and it features ordinary people, thrown together by their extraordinary talent to lead people using only the power of their thoughts.
After all, isn’t that what we’re doing here? Indulging some under-achiever adolescent fantasy to just be noticed?
The phrase really is most useful when considered as a form of “merit badge”, designed to shore up the egos of executives who never actually quite get it right. It’s the corporate equivalent of a Bronze swimming medal, awarded to the kids who only made it out the pool alive because the lifeguard wanted to impress his girlfriend.
“Aww Timmy, Well done! Who’s a brave boy!”
Both situations are dangerous – the kid walks away thinking he can actually swim, and the “Thought Leader” walks away thinking that he actually has thoughts. Worse than that, though, is the implication encoded in the phrase that everyone else must be “Thought Followers”.
In the real world where most of us actually get our work done, anyone can (and frequently does) come up with important contributions – an inspired idea, an important-yet-overlooked limitation in the plan du jour, an inspired piece of design…
We all have unique talents or perspectives, and this is why – in a good working environment – the thinking is done by everyone working together.
Implying the existence of Thought Leaders devalues that process, and renders everyone else automatons. Let’s demonstrate with a short excerpt from my above-mentioned screenplay.
Fade in, INT, GLOBALMEGACORP INC. OFFICE
THOUGHT FOLLOWER: …so then I had a flash of inspiration and just deleted out entire sales database.
THOUGHT LEADER (panicky): What?! Why?!
THOUGHT FOLLOWER: Well, you said that our storage costs were too high and we should cut back on hard-disk usage. So I found the biggest thing we had and got rid of it. Voila, problem solved.
THOUGHT LEADER: Um, I don’t think you really thought about this, did you?
THOUGHT FOLLOWER (cheerily): ‘Course not, boss. That’s what we have you for.
The THOUGHT LEADER buries his head in his hands and begins to sob quietly, while the COMPANY CEO takes a run-up for his delivery of the WORLD’S LARGEST KICK UP THE ASS.
Fade out
Headcount
Wednesday, September 17th, 2008 | Filed under: Douchewords | No Comments
Oh, it’s you again. Hi.
No, no… don’t you… I can see your lips forming the word…
Don’t you dare call me a fucking resource.
There now, the urge is fading. The word is “people”, right?
…
Uh, what the fuck? What the fuck did you just call me?
“Headcount”?
Okay, now I’m really fucking confused. See, I’m pretty sure that when I started here I signed a contract with GiantCorp Inc. Yup, it’s right here – look.
It doesn’t say “the fucking Shuar tribe”, does it? Besides, I’d rather you didn’t “count” my head. Or shrink it. Or whatever. It’s doing important work, attached to my neck, thanks.
Or maybe you’re confused? Maybe you think this is a fucking girl scout troop and we’re about to get on a goddamn bus? Is this that kind of “headcount”?
We’ve been over this before – you work with people. They live, they love, they laugh; they have arms and hands and feet and torsos. And yes, heads too.
I’m sure healthcare benefits would be easier for you to manage if we were all brains in jars, but I’m also pretty sure the “become a brain in a jar” Strategic Initiative would lead to mass-resignations.
Now, at this point, I’d usually offer you some form of foot/rear-end interfacing arrangement, but given the subject matter, how about we skip all that and go straight for a boot to the head?
Yeah, you’re welcome.
Challenging Quarter
Wednesday, September 10th, 2008 | Filed under: Douchewords | No Comments
As expected, this has been a challenging quarter, reflecting the difficulties in any industry transformation of this scale. [...] Our realignment initiatives…
That’s anonymously quoted from a large conglomerate’s quarterly results. You have no idea who the fuck it is because I plucked it randomly from a search engine, and because all corporations talk like this. Half of you are now thinking “shit, was that us?” and trying to dig up copies of your company’s past quarterly releases.
I have a challenge in mind, a heartfelt plea if you will…
Corporate Communications Douchebags, unite!
See, you’re the guys with the finger on the trigger – the ones with the press-release fast-track to the AP newswire. And, by extension, you’re also the primary conduit for the dissemination of douchespeak into the wider world.
So, how about we all cut the crap for a moment? What the press release above was trying to say was this:
The past quarter was less enjoyable than a shit sandwich. We know it sucked. Hell, we had to compile the quarterly figures and it just made us kinda embarassed. We even considered fudging the numbers, but then we remembered that Enron shit from a few years back, so we figured we’d just have to take it on the chin.
Look, we’ve had some real douchebags working here – the kind of people who sit around all day saying “leverage our strategic objectives” and never refill the fucking coffee pot when they take the last cup. But the good news is, we’re firing those assholes. Possibly out of a cannon.
Please, someone, go ahead, publish that instead. At least I’d know you were telling the truth. At least I’d know you cared. Hell, if any company in America showed that much self-awareness I’d invest immediately.
Also, “realignment”? Realignment is a weasel-word, a “we don’t know what the fuck to do” word. It’s the “leverage” of quarterly failure.
Don’t tell me you “realigned”. What does that mean? Did you change the orientation of the cubicles in HQ so they face south?
“We fired 5000 people”? If that’s the truth then just say it. It’s unpleasant, but at least it shows you have a spine.
More likely, you re-titled your Chief Operations Officer to be the VP of Strategic Directions and bought some new company stationary.
In which case, your next quarter is going to be about as much fun as a shit sandwich. Or a repeated kick up the ass.
Humpday
Wednesday, September 3rd, 2008 | Filed under: Douchewords | No Comments
I know, I know. The work week’s a damned chore.
And, let’s face it, you really expected that by now you’d have made your millions and be lounging on a yacht eating grapes from the delicate hands of nubile young debutantes.
Whereas, in actual fact, the highlight of your day is the exchange of meaningless gossip about last night’s American Idol while you wait for some godawful coffee to finish brewing in the world’s most broken coffee machine.
Sucks to be you.
But please, please, don’t refer to the middle day of the week as “humpday”. You’re my co-worker for God’s sake.
You might be the nicest person in the world; I might have a great, professionally-based friendship with you… but when you say “hump”, I think of the basest meaning of the word, the one that’s number 4 in the dictionary definition.
And the last thing I want to think about when we’re trying to agree on what we’re actually trying to bloody leverage is you, humping.
Sorry.
Thing is, “Wednesday” is a really awesome name for a day. It comes from “Wōdnesdæg” (Woden’s Day) or, in more familiar terms, “Odin’s day”.
Yes! The middle of the week is named after the fricking Chief God. And not just any fricking Chief God – the fricking Chief God of the fricking Vikings! Mad bastards with big boats, horny hats and a fanatical devotion to pillaging!
And if they heard you saying “humpday”, they’d burn down your village and kidnap your wife. Sometimes I wonder if I’m letting you off too lightly.
Resources
Wednesday, August 27th, 2008 | Filed under: Douchewords | No Comments
I’m thinking “trees, maybe? Or a supply of clean water? Perhaps some ever-pricier oil?”
Admittedly, I work for what’s effectively a media company so I’d be pretty fucking impressed if it turns out we’ve got a secret drilling lease on a portion of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, but, y’know, you’re yammering on about “resources” so I figure there’s something pretty awesome going on here.
Right?
No?
Oh. When you said “resource”, you meant me?
Listen, fucko… I’m a person, not a “resource”. I enjoy an occasional glass of red wine, I really liked the new Batman movie and I hate working late because I want to get home and spend time with my girlfriend. I actually like my job here, too, when I’m not subjected to your douche-isms.
When did “people” become a taboo word in the office, anyhow? Have we depersonalised our working lives so far that we’re scared to acknowledge the very humanity of the people who work with us?
I’d blame whichever fucking resource originally coined the term “Human Resources”, but unfortunately their identity appears to be lost in the mists of time (aka, 1970).
Anyhow, focussing my rage again for a moment, when you talk about our “resources”, you’re using a really generic word…
…which makes it impossible for me to understand what the fuck you’re actually saying. Most businesses have all sorts of needs – people, paper, computers, concrete, planks, hops, angora wool… Probably not all at the same time, but see, you’ve got me all confused.
What are we even doing here? Writing a newspaper? Building a house? Making a website? Brewing beer? I forgot because I’m staring at a spreadsheet filled with nameless fucking resources.
Cut it out. People are people and everything else has an actual name too. If I hear the word “resource” one more time, I’m going to be depleting your resources…
…with a swift kick in the ass.
Deliverables
Wednesday, August 20th, 2008 | Filed under: Douchewords | No Comments
…uh, yeah. Can you wait just a second? I just need to check…
…no, I’m just checking the sign on the office door. And it still doesn’t say “FedEx” or “UPS”… so why the fuck are we talking about “deliverables”?
I get deliverables at the office, sure. Every once in a while I receive the exciting email from the nice girl in reception; “A package has arrived for you”. And down there I tear like a kid on Christmas morning to take receipt of my latest bundle of consumer crap from Amazon.
But we’re not talking about my parcel-fetish[1], are we?
You say “your deliverables” and for some reason I start thinking about the uncomfortably large lunch I ate, and the fact that I’ve avoided taking a shit at work ever since I found the office pervert’s hand lotion, inadvertantly left on the toilet cistern in some kind of post-wank daze[2].
Um… yeah. Sorry. Anyway, “deliverables”?
Why not just call them “tasks”? Or “work”?
“What work still needs to be done to complete this project?”
There’s a question I can answer right away, without having to think of the urgency of my bowel movements… or the foot-induced disruption of yours.
[1] – I was going to shove a picture of a UPS uniform into this post. And then I saw the Google Image Search results for “UPS Uniform”, realised that yes, everything in the world has a parallel porn-universe version, and gave up in despair.
[2] – True story which happened to someone I know, not actually me. And no, it wasn’t my fucking hand lotion.
Move The Needle
Friday, August 15th, 2008 | Filed under: Douchewords | 1 Comment
If Spencer Johnson has an ounce of sense he’s already working on a bestselling follow-up to his most famous book, themed around junkies and titled “Who Moved My Needle?”
After all, you lot are certifiable addicts, even if your poison-of-choice is bizarre metaphors rather than industrial-grade heroin.
It doesn’t really matter what the drug is though, does it? At the end of the day, we all have our coping mechanisms, and few things are harder to cope with than the fact that we’re actually living in the future now.
I know, it’s kinda scary that your desk houses ten times the computing power which sent men to the moon. It’s even more bewildering when Excel refuses to format your cells properly for the fifth fucking time in an hour, so we understand; really, we do.
When you get that glazed-over, far away look in your eyes we know you’re dreaming of a simpler, kinder time; wishing that you were in one of those 1960s NASA control rooms where all you had to do was monitor a few fuck-off-huge analog dials for a glimmer of activity.
So, you go, spacegirls and boys. You keep on movin’ those needles. Up here in the 21st century we’ll be speaking our crazy futurist moon-language and uttering phrases like, oh, I dunno… “make a significant difference” or something equally whacky.
Such advances in descriptive language are, one might say, “one small step for a man“. And a giant kick-in-the-pants for “needle movers”.