Questions

That question I put at the end of my last blog – a variant of “What will you do?”

I put it there because I read so many blogs that end with the invitation to do something and it perkily, saucily, automatically, full-of-itself just trotted out of my fingers into the keyboard with the presumptive smugness of a Chequers deal.

I hate those things, I just realised.  Hate. With a deep conviction.

It’s enough I stopped by your blog to check out your thoughts. Now you’re canvassing me for free entry into my mind as well? It’s like all those surveys, polls, questionnaires, justafewquestionstoseehowwe’redoing! feedback. Those false declarations of  “we love to serve you so much…”

Those things are obligations. I pay for one thing – the thing I wanted. I didn’t pay for an obligation, no matter how tentatively presented, plump with honest entreaty. It was cute when Innocent started doing it. It’s abusive now everyone’s doing it. The very value of it is diminished by care fatigue and, on the wake of that, cynicism. It’s a perilous route.

Big corporations with massive turnover: if you want me to fill in your survey, give me 30 percent off. Otherwise, no dice.

Unless I suspect you’re using the information to do something horribly disciplinary to your staff. Like supermarket delivery people. But that feels like I’m ticking a box to make sure you don’t hassle them more than it feels like you’ll give them a bonus, for some reason. Please don’t take us into  PhilDickian future full of staff feedback forms. I beg you.

There are questions worth asking, of course. So many. Usually those are the ones everyone squirms to avoid. I don’t see you sending me a survey about how I’d like you to re-shape your production systems to save the world and stop flogging stuff nobody needs.

If you read this far you already gave enough.

 

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