At times I get the sinking feeling that I'm being watched.
Not necessarily monitored. That is completely different. Being monitored is something that takes place in a hospital when you're sick and/or recovering (possibly from an infection brought on by radiation or zombie attack).
Being monitored is something that occurs in your place of business to ensure an employee is on task and not surfing porn sites on the web instead of running extremely important reports about efficiencies and workflow solutions.
Being watched, on the other hand, is what happens when you are put on an island with a bunch of strangers with varying degrees of extreme personality disorders to see who can overcome adversity and intense ridiculousness. That type of watched usually requires contestants that are willing participants, told how to behave by executive producers, and sign a contract that gives a production company the rights to their soul.
This type of watched adheres more closely to what Truman Burbank experienced throughout the course of his life until he sailed away in an attempt to escape the fabrication of a world he believed to be real.
This project I'm working on, the report I'm writing, it is pretend. The situations I'm asked to engage in, scripted. I don't think I'm the only one in the game. All of my coworkers have been under the assumption that this gig is real as well. There's a tiny camera in the clock adjacent to my office. There's a microphone in the orange that sits on my desk.
All of the conference calls, big wig walk throughs, employee picnics, power outages, and standard operating procedures, all staged for amusement.
That quick turnaround project that seems impossible to accomplish requiring additional hours of jumping through flaming hoops...pretend.
That pissed off client that demands an explanation for the delivery of an incorrect or incomplete product...completely made up.
I'm on to you (I whisper into the orange).
This is all just a big game show and someone will emerge as the victor in the end. One lucky contestant will rise above the chaos, above the nonsense and ridiculousness and claim their prize. The trouble is, the contestants in this particular game have no real way of knowing what the parameters are or what is at stake. There are wagers being made on us and the rules are completely unknown.
Is the contestant that survives the winner? Tries the hardest? Is this an elimination game or do you win by popular vote? Is the idea to escape this maze while navigating around zombies and time portals and ticked off clients?
Today I am jazzing my hands right into the camera, and for the first time the audience knows that I know what they know. These Jazz Hands are defiant. These Jazz Hands accept the challenge. These Jazz Hands are going to win.
Day one-hundred and fifty complete (with product placement, of course).
Not necessarily monitored. That is completely different. Being monitored is something that takes place in a hospital when you're sick and/or recovering (possibly from an infection brought on by radiation or zombie attack).
Being monitored is something that occurs in your place of business to ensure an employee is on task and not surfing porn sites on the web instead of running extremely important reports about efficiencies and workflow solutions.
Being watched, on the other hand, is what happens when you are put on an island with a bunch of strangers with varying degrees of extreme personality disorders to see who can overcome adversity and intense ridiculousness. That type of watched usually requires contestants that are willing participants, told how to behave by executive producers, and sign a contract that gives a production company the rights to their soul.
This type of watched adheres more closely to what Truman Burbank experienced throughout the course of his life until he sailed away in an attempt to escape the fabrication of a world he believed to be real.
This project I'm working on, the report I'm writing, it is pretend. The situations I'm asked to engage in, scripted. I don't think I'm the only one in the game. All of my coworkers have been under the assumption that this gig is real as well. There's a tiny camera in the clock adjacent to my office. There's a microphone in the orange that sits on my desk.
All of the conference calls, big wig walk throughs, employee picnics, power outages, and standard operating procedures, all staged for amusement.
That quick turnaround project that seems impossible to accomplish requiring additional hours of jumping through flaming hoops...pretend.
That pissed off client that demands an explanation for the delivery of an incorrect or incomplete product...completely made up.
I'm on to you (I whisper into the orange).
This is all just a big game show and someone will emerge as the victor in the end. One lucky contestant will rise above the chaos, above the nonsense and ridiculousness and claim their prize. The trouble is, the contestants in this particular game have no real way of knowing what the parameters are or what is at stake. There are wagers being made on us and the rules are completely unknown.
Is the contestant that survives the winner? Tries the hardest? Is this an elimination game or do you win by popular vote? Is the idea to escape this maze while navigating around zombies and time portals and ticked off clients?
Today I am jazzing my hands right into the camera, and for the first time the audience knows that I know what they know. These Jazz Hands are defiant. These Jazz Hands accept the challenge. These Jazz Hands are going to win.
Day one-hundred and fifty complete (with product placement, of course).
No comments:
Post a Comment