Since September, I have been on a bit of a hiatus from A Certain Company because I’ve been doing a project for A Certain Other Company. Because I think any group of people is bound to be dysfunctional sooner or later – particularly when the purpose of that group is to market technology – it’s hard for me to really believe this, but working for A Certain Company and A Certain Other Company are two completely different experiences.
Though she is not without her challenges, since September, the woman who is my client at A Certain Other Company has yet to send me an e-mail with a red exclamation mark beside it. Since the week before last, when the project with A Certain Company began – or tried to begin anyhow – the majority of the e-mails I have received have been sent with high importance. Though I know better, I respond to those exclamation marks with anxiety. As I believe it’s intended to be, my reaction is automatic.
My job, allegedly, is to write documents based on a messaging framework, an overwrought, endlessly verbose rambling that purports to explain why making a certain purchase is the best thing you’ll ever do. The documents are to be geared toward people and companies in specific industries. So, given the fact that neither the messaging nor the industries to be targeted has been finalized, why are any of the e-mails relating to this project deemed worthy of clicking on “High Importance!” before sending? To take logic a step further, if the information I’m basing these documents on hasn’t even been finalized, why are e-mails being sent at all?
Pardon my language, but fuck if I know.
I sometimes have dreams in which I am rushing to catch a flight even though I haven’t even started packing. The emotional foundation of those dreams is this weird sense of dread that must be the aftermath of going back and forth between “There’s no way in hell I’m going to get out of here on time” and “There’s no way I’m not going to be on that plane when the door closes.” Working with A Certain Company is almost always like that. As I write this there is a torrent of e-mails going back and forth about “ETAs” and “the workback” in spite of the fact – again – that the messaging has not been finalized. To me, that makes about as much sense as demanding to know when your meal will be ready before you’ve picked out the food. Which is to say, none.
I am prone to oversimplification, but here’s my attempt at an explanation. People who work at A Certain Company, and the thousands of people like me who work with them as vendors, make everything as complex as possible because if we didn’t, well, we’d just be ordinary folk doing ordinary things for which we’d be paid very ordinary wages.
My own shortcoming in this situation is that I am neither bold nor brave enough to make it known that I’d rather not be considered for projects with A Certain Company. In asking myself why, there are a couple of possible answers. The first is that the money is good and that I’m familiar with the drill. The second, which is more disturbing to me, is that on some level I equate taking a permanent pass on projects from A Certain Company with admitting that I’m not capable. So, rather than delving more deeply into those questions, I’ve decided to do a little experiment. I’m going to stop trying to boil messaging frameworks and talking points and all the rest down to their simplest form. Instead, I’m going to try going along with the complexity junkies. My first task is to utter, as if in awe, the following line during the next project meeting: “Wow, there’s really a lot here to get your head around.” While I doubt my ability to say that convincingly, I am rehearsing.
