Thursday, July 15, 2004

I made a website yesterday to have a select few at work, on both shifts, track some of the work they do for the flippin' Ogden project thing I'm on.  I sent out a link, and with that link went explicitly detailed instructions of what I wanted done.  Painfully simple, really.  I wanted either a "Y" or an "N" and the click of a button for each form.  I was a bit more verbose and professional in my explanation, but it didn't make a whit of difference.  Not a whit, a jot, a grain, or a dram.  There were those who ignored the e-mail completely.  There were those who did the extreme opposite, and tracked everything that everyone around them did, instead of just what they themselves did.
I don't know how we got away from cave paintings.  Really.  They convey enough.  "Oh look!  Og is standing triumphantly over the carcass of that elk.  He really can keep meat in the fire."  (Yes, I know you don't put meat in the fire.  That's a line from 'Teenage Caveman', a Roger Corman vehicle starring Robert Vaughn when he was in his early 20s.  Thank you MST3K.)
I really, really can't wait for this whole automation thing.  Sure, it's going to cause a whole lot of people to no longer have jobs.  But I'm only concerned about a handful.  Including myself.  Whatever part of me that may have felt sadness, pity, remorse, or whatever is buried under a glacier of hate for those who exist only to be spoon-fed by the competent.  When I know, not believe, not suppose, not surmise, but KNOW that I could get the same amount of work out of a dozen or so good people as we currently get out of a few hundred...  That's hate.  And that's your tax dollars at work.  Or not at work, to be more precise.

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