disillusioned - Friday November 13 1998
location: a large A-frame house in Idyllwild, California, at a company retreat
There was a period of time early this morning during which my co-workers were whispering among themselves in such a way that their combined roar might as well have been shouting. Then one of them, acting in the capacity of petty-leader, let loose with a "Good Morning, [name of the internet startup company for which I work]!" It was a little past 7:00am, and many of us had been drinking to excess last night, so this wasn't an especially welcomed announcement. But we're all go-getters of one kind or another and eager, especially in a group environment subtly pervaded with unspoken analysis of performance, to respectively demonstrate what energy we can muster. I didn't have much energy and wasn't especially interested in showing any. I sat on a couch sipping water, nibbling on a biscuit, and post-poning all bodily functions. Both bathrooms had impossibly long queues and I didn't want people waiting impatiently for a room I'd be perfuming with my own vile hangover bowel movement odour. Several people made vaguely condescending comments about my seeming incapacity to face the day, and I responded with every bit of the gruffness I felt appropriate in response.
Not really wanting to interact with anyone in my hungover state, I chose to thumb through a book of team-building exercises, wondering which ones were going to be used on us today. I'm extremely cynical about such things, from the details right on up to the underlying psychology. Coming from an anti-establishment, anti-authoritarian background, I don't like going through the motions of pretending I like my co-workers unless I actually have some genuine reason to do so. Still, in the spirit of group unity, I put my aversions on hold, kept an open mind, and (with tightened sphincter muscles) restrained my considerable intestinal gas as the day's activities began.
The first order of the day was a "Human Development" session. "Human Development" (as the term is used by the grand pooh-bah of my company) is based on the dubious premise that we humans only use 3% of our brain's total capacity, and that if we unleash just a small fraction of the remaining 97%, we'll be capable of achieving goals completely unanswerable by weaker employees in lesser companies. For my part, I think the 3% theory is unsupported by science and is nothing more than another pseudoscientific newage attempt to set an impossibly high limit on human capability. If that extra 97% really were accessible to anyone, there would be geniuses in our world capable of putting Einstein to shame. If such people exist, I've never heard of them. By the way, Ms. Vos Savant's brilliance doesn't especially impress me.
To bring about our "Human Development" and unleash some of our spare 97%, the Grand Pooh Bah thought it appropriate to play us the first in a series of Tony Robbins motivational tapes. I guess I've heard of Tony Robbins in the context of being some sort of late night infomercial motivational guru (the sort of person I could, for what I think obvious reasons, never take seriously). But this morning I decided to give Tony a shot. I like my company a great deal and if the Grand Pooh Bah, who has breathed this agreeable culture into existence, thinks Tony Robbins is the way to go, then I thought I'd give the fast talking huckster of self-improvement a chance. So I listened to the tape with an open mind.
What Tony Robbins was saying made sense, in the way that truisms make sense. But it wasn't earth-shattering material. I didn't get a sense of great revelation going on here. Being far more motivated than most people, I've discovered many of Tony's axioms on my own and apply them in my life already. For example, I routinely dive into projects for which I feel I lack necessary prerequisite knowledge, confident that I can learn what I need to know along the way. That's how (to cite a recent example) I learned Active Server Page programming. That's also how I taught myself to masturbate. I don't feel the need to enrich a late night infomercial guru putting my life in order. It is in order, and yet this is only the beginning.
After the tape was over, the Grand Pooh Bah asked for a show of hands about how many of us would be willing to come to work a half hour earlier each morning for the next thirty days to listen to Tony Robbins tapes. This request for a show of hands came with the firm expectation that everyone would raise their hands. He's the Grand Pooh Bah, after all, and it was obvious what he wanted.
But I have a strong character and I am not afraid to make waves or draw attention to myself over matters of principle. This contrived non-secret polling of me and my co-workers was little different from the group prayers, pep rallies, pledges of allegiance to the flag and other essentially fascistic ceremonies I loathed throughout my youth. So, amongst a forest of arms, I pointedly kept both mine down. There are very few things that will make me get up a half hour earlier each morning, and listening to tapes made by an infomercial guru is not one of them. I saw the loss of this extra half hour of my mornings as a line not to be crossed in what I am willing to do for my company. I have a life and loved ones outside the company and I have chosen to defend them at this and other Rubicons that cross my day. On later reflection, I saw this half hour as the tip of an iceberg of even more frightening things, a separation of me from my life outside, a severing of connections that is characteristic of cult indoctrination.
I know the Grand Pooh Bah took notice of my failure to raise my hand, and I could see this darkening his mood. Who was I to take a stand of this sort so early in my employ? I don't really know how he operates, but I got the distinct feeling that bad things suddenly lay in my future. In a way that has never yet happened in this particular workplace, I could feel myself becoming afraid, my motivation to do my all for this company ebbing away. It seemed so sad and unnecessary.
Another who noticed my assertion of individuality was Courtney, a girl with apparent punk tendencies who works the phone for an unfamiliar branch of the company. And from that point on, I am touched to say, she seemed (in an unexpectedly sly, persuasive and extremely intelligent manner) to take me up as one of her causes. She was vocal during all subsequent discussions, saying exactly what I was thinking, that all of us develop in our own way and that there needs to be flexibility in our company's culture for industrious people who advance in their own unique ways. At times she was even blunt in her assertion of supportive remarks. She never mentioned me by name, but I was moved almost to tears by her words. Why was she doing this? What was in it for her? Her words seemed to be flowing from a fountain of idealism, but I didn't really know for sure. Best of all, she spoke with an authority that implied obviously social (and thus political) power, transcending her youth and short circuiting all the bullshit and the actions of all the cows who simply go along and never make waves.
A majestic rocky peak in the mountains above Idyllwild.
Jen the graphic designer (and lover of the Grand Pooh Bah) builds a tiny snowman in a genuine patch of snow.
Various co-workers gathering in a clearing during the retreat.