‘F*ck you, pay me’: The nature of exploitation, and how minimalism can change the world of work
Employee? Freelancer? Entrepreneur? Read this.
Picture the scene: Another meeting about a meeting — three hours and counting. I glance at my phone — three missed calls and about 13 emails. I’m bored, angling to leave, and thinking about how I am supposed to make up for all that wasted time.
Sigh, sigh, frustrated sigh. Things take a turn for the worse when an issue I raise turns into an almost-screaming-match. I give replies through gritted teeth because I’m biting my tongue so hard. The problem? I dared to express concern about how people we relied upon so much (sorry, let’s dehumanise them and refer to them as ‘suppliers’), and who often went beyond the call of duty, were being monopolised. I knew how it was going to pan out before I brought it up: I’d express real concerns, receive no back up from colleagues (who, just a few hours before were fully in support of what I was saying, but who now sat there tight-lipped with gazes averted), and field pointed attacks spat at me from taut mouths. Narrowed eyes meet mine. Alas, the nauseated expression on my face betrays me (and by this point I couldn’t care less), and I am shot down, stifled, made an example of. Blah, blah, blah.
On and on it goes in various contexts and different work places for years and years — it’s just the players who change. I did my time — I was “supposed to have” what, five years’ experience (?) in an industry before I could be considered for ‘senior’ management positions in companies which had no idea what they wanted in the candidate they would employ, and would be interviewed by people who asked me pointless questions like where I saw myself in five years’ (there’s that magical number again), and why I’d be a good fit for the company. It was all so contrived. Don’t be who you are — be who we want you to be.
So this is it? Is this what we are told to aspire to — a ‘real job’, a car, a home we can call our own — trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of MORE: of wanting more, of needing more, of getting more at any and all costs? I made every excuse I could: ‘I can’t quit my job because how will I pay the bills?’, ‘If I quit now, no one will take me seriously. I just don’t have enough experience,’ I can’t quit now because I need to save up more just in case I can’t cover all my expenses.’ All that despite the fact that I was running on empty — I was burnt out, miserable, and hating the thought of going to work.
It seems to be a hard-wired impulse, this need to belong. We want to feel we are part of something greater — a bigger picture — and so we tend to seek fulfilment outside ourselves. Some people (and I am guilty as charged) become workaholics, some become increasingly materialistic, and others indulge in other addictions. We want so much to belong to this elusive ‘something’ that we forget our own value and worth. We become desperate. We are daunted. We accept whatever we can get instead of asking for what we need. There’s the rub. We are so caught up in wanting more, wanting to be more, wanting to get more, that we fail to take stock and see that we have enough. In fact, we may even have an abundance.
When I was employed by others, it seemed that I never had enough. I lived in a permanent state of fear — and of what? I had paid off all my debt, I had got rid of my credit card, I cut down on buying things that were of little or no value to me. When I heard about the KonMari method (and the concept of kaizen long before that) it made perfect sense to me. Why was I living the way I was? Letting go of things seemed the only logical conclusion. Around the same time, I was confronted with the health issues I’d been experiencing as a result of adrenal burnout. I’m not going to lie: it was a complete physical and psychological overhaul — I had to resist years of conditioning we are all exposed to as consumers — consumers of goods, of food, of drink, of environmental resources, of beliefs, and of ideologies. I had to change my relationships with material goods, and with people. When I began expressing my newfound beliefs, I lost friends. People didn’t want to hear that I no longer wanted to spend money on coffee dates, brunches, lunches, dinners, and whatever other meals lay in between. Some of them resented me for saying that the culture of eating in order to spend time with people no longer appealed to me. They couldn’t quite grasp the idea that I still wanted to spend time with them, but that it wasn’t going to be in the traditionally food- and drink-laden way. Besides, my choices had become limited and specific: I cut out caffeine, gluten, and refined carbohydrates in order to restore my health and my sanity. In the end, I had to be okay with letting go of those people, and the psychological baggage that comes with ending friendships.
The sea change had unexpected and unintended consequences — most of them profoundly life-changing and eye-opening. Financial acumen increased: I had become more aware of my spending habits, what served me, and what didn’t. When I founded my own company, I did so with my own capital: not money borrowed from a financial institution or funder. I hired an accountant with the single proviso: ‘Do everything above board.’ I employed people on contract bases to facilitate collaboration and open-endedness, rather than a climate where they felt exploited. I had spent too many years in the employ of people to whom I wished to say what Mike Monteiro immortalised in his 2011 public speaking debut — ‘F*ck you, pay me!’ I’d been in too many sickening cost-cutting budget meetings where means and methods to undercut freelancers’ dues were the order of the day, and where I wanted to express the same sentiments on their behalf.
Have I made mistakes? Absolutely. Doing something that does not fit conventional norms and wisdom, and which is constantly morphing, is tough. Recall my earlier point about wanting to belong. Sometimes you will want to go back to what you know, or have known in the past, and may even convince yourself that it is a nicer, milder alternative. Subconsciously, you may be drawn to the very thing you have been resisting. In my case the culture of manipulation, and of allowing myself to be manipulated, led me to joining a social organisation with very noble educational and leadership goals (at least on paper). Thankfully, it didn’t take me long to recognise my mistake, discard the materials, and say goodbye to the (cult) leaders (I also asked for my money back).
The other important lesson that expressing minimalism in business (and life) has taught me is this: you don’t have to do it all in one day, one month, or even in one year. The change is gradual. You will get there, though, so be patient, and enjoy the ride. The rewards in every part of your life will be worth it. It doesn’t matter if you are an employee, an entrepreneur, a freelancer, or even if you’re unemployed. Do what’s right for you — one step and one day at a time.
