Ball and Key Chain
by Don Wrege
"I'm so important," her email read, "that they've given me a pager!" The
breathless message continued, "It even receives email--send me a joke!"
"The joke's on you," was the note I bounced off a satellite and into the new
appliance on her belt. Her employer had managed, without any further
compensation, to make her available to the enterprise twenty-four hours a day,
seven days a week. She was told it was because she is "important," and it must
have sounded good to her. When the ball and chain were clamped on prisoners of
yore, I wonder if they felt more valuable somehow?
Don't get me wrong, I think all these newfangled devices are great, but I think
we should keep them in perspective. Especially when, as a condition of
employment, we are suddenly required to strap them to our person all day and keep
them close as a loved one at night. The line between work and personal time
continues to erode, the individual's identity further dillutes and we move one
step closer to becoming the automotons Industry requires us to be for optimum
bottom line profitability.
I work with a computer geek who wears two of the infernal devices. Every once in
a while it will chirp during a meeting. He'll whip the pager off his belt, mutter
something in disgust like, "The market is down 200 points," and re-holster it
like a western gunslinger. Have you ever been in a room full of these folks when
a pager goes off? At what sounds like a sparrow being strangled they all look
around and ask, "Was that me?"
Keeping in touch is one thing, but never letting go is another. Before I am
delighted by the thought of wearing an electronic umbilical cord to my job, my
boss is going to have to pay me for my sleep time at night. Because if they can
wake me up at will, then I'm still on the clock.
Light anyone?
