So a person lives, then bam — got a diploma, and he’s no longer just a person, but a specialist, sometimes irreplaceable. Irreplaceable is a word that replaces a tiny bit of salary. And a plain specialist is a responsible person who already thinks about serious things, like meeting the plan or whatever’s fashionable now — kay-pee-eye. Anyway, the person no longer belongs to himself, and even if he can do something — which is actually why they hired him — he has to refine it to fit the processes, which are everything. Don’t like processes — take a walk, or however it goes: if you criticize, propose, and management will listen and make the right decision.
Somewhere there was a study in which it was reported that those who live best are the ones who don’t let other people’s stupidity provoke a reaction inside. No urge to make everything right, to explain, to set straight. I have a hard time with that — that’s why I write. Wrote a little piece and somehow calmed down and once again accepted things as they are.
A person needs very little, really, but capital needs to repeat and repeat the cycle and produce dough — why? Well, it doesn’t know why itself; that’s just how it works, that’s how it finds its significance. Capital needs fuel, which is workers, or in other words human resources — roughly like fuel for a power plant, or like flour for a bakery. A person loses their selfhood and becomes a cog, a specialist.
Hello — who are you in life? I’m a mathematician. And I’m an engineer for tuning conveyor belts. And I produce refined people: I’m a teacher. Where are you, Adam? You’re not “in life” — you are life! Better to clean septic tanks, but in the breaks smell the clover and taste it, like in childhood.
Which of those managers who are now optimizing company management wanted, as a child, to hit a kay-pee-eye? Who wanted to make sushi delivery five minutes faster and spend half a year of their life on it? Who wanted to earn a concrete box with parking in the basement? To hell with all of it …
Damn, how lucky is the one who not only understands this, but has also gathered around himself people who understand it. No, they don’t smell clover all day long, but they can allow themselves to do it without embarrassment, and they understand how important that is, and they’re independent of the opinion — which is really just envy — of the surrounding world. Many find it hard to give up the significance of their status; it is always scary — to face yourself. To clean yourself of statuses, of awards, of achievements and be left alone with yourself. Such a person is profitable to no one — neither to capital nor to himself — so when I still tried to undress such a person, he resisted with terrible force.
To undress does not mean to devalue, by the way, so the one who undresses must himself be naked. And not be ashamed of his nakedness, as Adam once was. Devaluing is when the undresser is well dressed and undresses another; and when he himself is naked, then it isn’t about devaluing. The undresser undresses only the one who wants to be naked; that was my mistake earlier: I tried to undress someone who didn’t want to and wasn’t ready.
Let me see you stripped down to the bone.