Hmmm, so 9 to get 3 workers, 16 for 4, 25 for 5, 100 gets 10, 10,000 gets 100... Yeah, I think that about fits.
But on the other side of the table, having been forced to accepts seats at the kids table where competence is prohibited, there's this weird purgatory you're forced to cope with, like a Cassandra, being forced to nurse a Sick System. You want to take action, you certainly could intervene, take charge, and set things right, but any number of workplace taboos might be infringed upon or violated, in so doing.
I've had to sit, and watch morons bumble about, stare at hamfisted facts of existence for years on end, look but not touch, and let perfectly reasonable things burn and go to waste because my hands were tied.
Being competent enough to know better, skilled enough to intervene with success, and yet find myself in such a position where I am forbidden to do so is maddening. At some point a post-traumatic learned helplessness sets in, and you grow catatonic at the futility of struggling. If I could rewind my life, I'd love to locate the moment when I died inside. I might ballpark it back somewhere around... 2002? And yet reality still continues to unfold before these eyes.
But on the other side of the table, having been forced to accepts seats at the kids table where competence is prohibited, there's this weird purgatory you're forced to cope with, like a Cassandra, being forced to nurse a Sick System. You want to take action, you certainly could intervene, take charge, and set things right, but any number of workplace taboos might be infringed upon or violated, in so doing.
I've had to sit, and watch morons bumble about, stare at hamfisted facts of existence for years on end, look but not touch, and let perfectly reasonable things burn and go to waste because my hands were tied.
Being competent enough to know better, skilled enough to intervene with success, and yet find myself in such a position where I am forbidden to do so is maddening. At some point a post-traumatic learned helplessness sets in, and you grow catatonic at the futility of struggling. If I could rewind my life, I'd love to locate the moment when I died inside. I might ballpark it back somewhere around... 2002? And yet reality still continues to unfold before these eyes.
C'est la vie.