A Respected Institution
I used to work for them.
A large foundation in the Northwest.
Respected. Heavily funded. Prestigious.
When I was hired it was unclear as to my job function.
I thought I would be helping them with their video productions.
After I arrived I was shown around by various members of its establishment.
Then they left me alone.
Almost.
It seemed they weren't sure what my job title was going to be.
They were working on that.
They never did decide.
I reported in everyday to do—what?
I was being paid.
I was not complaining, but I was wondering—what's going on here?
It took me a little over a month to figure it out.
This big prestigious institution depended on it's funding.
It needed to justify more and more funds coming in.
And yours truly was one of those justifications.
A warm body. Another one.
To add to the whole.
To add to the reason for more money.
You see they were doing important work: cancer research.
They had been doing this work for some time now.
They had a reputation. Respected.
No they hadn't found a cure, but they were researching and working to find a cure.
Their work became a curious interest of mine.
I watched how they worked.
They worked to justify their existence.
They wrote and presented reports.
They had lunch.
They had meetings.
They had coffee.
They were doing the one kind of work that
we are all familiar with: busy work.
Work that wouldn't be missed if it wasn't done.
Work that keeps people busy for the sake of pleasing anyone watching.
Damn—they're busy!
I tried fighting it. Meaning I actually tried to do some real work.
Something that might justify why I was there.
At times this rocked the boat.
They gave me that look: You're interrupting my busy work!
That's not to say there weren't some people doing actual useful work.
Why there were. They were the ones doing the hands on stuff just to keep
the different departments running with the logistics of operational things.
Computers had to work. Conferences had to be set up.
Information technology services: servers, security, websites—had to run properly.
Administration had to gather employee's time-sheets and do the all important PAYROLL.
In short: the framework that busy work sat on had to be facilitated.
I succumbed to this culture of acting like I was working too.
I finally used the time to study other related interests while I sat at my desk.
I became as phony as them in my own right.
The difference was I knew it.
These others seemed to really believe they were doing a good job.
Their doing busy work was fine. Even commendable.
Once I fell asleep at report presentation.
My boss spotted me. Not good.
We had a most strange relationship.
I realized he didn't want to meet with me.
Didn't want to see me.
Didn't want to know what I was up to—as long as I acted like the others—busy.
But I'm afraid I was not as good as the others.
One day I came in to work and discovered it was my last day.
No notice. No warning. I wasn't fired.
They just terminated my contract.
My recruiter called.
She'd forgot to tell me it was my last day.
Until it was my last day.
My boss wanted my access card key back.
He said good bye.
I said good bye.
I left that day not any wiser than when I arrived.
Except now I knew a huge prestigious foundation
revered around the world was a phony.
If they'd really wanted to try and cure cancer all they had to do
was read some of Dr. Wilhelm Reich's books still in print.
Replicate his experiments, which would cost a whole lost less than
their current operational budget, and they would undoubtedly
get a lot closer to curing the big C.
But there's more money in trying to look like you're doing something than actually doing something.
Than doing useful work.
Because useful work may force you to face the fact that
you can solve the problem and not need to go on looking.
Our world has other places like this institution.
So next time you wonder why they haven't solved such and such-
no need to wonder.
They're doing busy work.
(Above drawing: busy_workers_12x9_ink_on_paper, by Allen Forrest)