"Serious" work
One of the most pleasurable and meditative activities that I’ve found in my adult life is to laugh at how silly it all is.
I think the most absurd revelation of my adulthood has been the ludicrous nature of adultness. Particularly (but not solely) our preposterous Western idea of so-called “serious” work. We pooh-pooh the made-up playtime of children, yet creating fantasy video games is a “serious” business. Tall men running around in shorts engaged in the work of putting balls through buckets generated almost $9 billion dollars of “serious” money last year! Money itself is a made-up figment of the human imagination, no more real than Santa Claus. And yet, despite its lack of inherent value, managing this made-up currency (via banks, investors, cartels, gangs) is most definitely considered “serious” work.
I think what I’m trying to say is: there’s so much to laugh at in a world that takes itself so seriously.
The mystical practice of business
In case you aren’t sure how to tell if something is “serious” work, I’ll give you a little tip: the regime of adulthood has a trove of mystical words that have the power to make anything weighty by proximity. Attach the terms Corporate Synergy, cutting-edge technology, or capital growth to any old word and just like that (picture me snapping my fingers) you’ve magically connected it to serious work! Probably the most commonly-used mystic incantation is to simply add the word business to the beginning of a phrase. Go ahead, try it out for yourself: Santa Claus? A jolly storybook character for children. The business of Santa Claus? Now that’s profound adult work!
Perhaps you’re asking yourself — shit, am I a person of Serious Business? I’m afraid you might be, or have been at some point. The mystic practitioners of business can often be recognized from afar by their religious vestments. Yes, the ludicrous underpinnings of serious work carries through to our clothing too.
Perhaps the most famous and long-lasting visual symbol of being engaged in Serious Business is the tie. It seems to have its origins rooted in a superstitious protection of the delicate human neck from spear or sword, however it really gained momentum during the 30-year war, when King Louis the 13th saw his Croatian mercenaries wearing them and thought they looked très chic. The news of this cravat travelled to King Charles II, who supposedly proclaimed “Get me a tie or I shall die!”. God, I really hope he said this, because it’s SO extra. I find all of this highly amusing, particularly when you learn that King Louis was only seven when he decided cravats were cool, and that therefore full-grown businessmen have been taking this 7-year-old monarch’s fashion advice for over 400 years.
(Even though it’s completely irrelevant, I find that I absolutely cannot move past the topic of the “merry monarch” King Charles II without mentioning that he created a title called the “Earl of Sandwich”, a title which continues to exist to this very day. The EARL of SANDWICH!!!! What next, will I find there’s a Duchess of Baguette??! I now have a deep existential need to, somehow, become the next Earl of Sandwich. Get me the title Earl of Sandwich or I shall die!)
Surely some types of business are actually serious?
Yes, yes. I agree. Of course there must be exceptions, activities which are (and have always been) serious business through and through. Medical work such as cancer research and neurosurgery come to mind, or perhaps the serious business of feeding an ever-growing human population (agricultural biotechnology).
Well, I’m (not) sorry to report that even a tiny bit of research reveals these very serious professions may also have some absurd starting points. For example, neurosurgery started with a process known as trepanation, which involved drilling a hole in the head to let out evil spirits. Effective! (After all, I find my own personal evil spirits generally prefer to lounge in my head — the stomach and foot just don’t give the same penthouse views, do they?) I particularly love that this procedure, often performed without the use of anaesthetics, was used to treat headaches. Because the best way to forget the headache you have is for you to be given a much, much worse headache. Or, if you die, they’ve still solved the headache problem, haven’t they? Check-mark!
Agricultural biotechnology does sound serious, doesn’t it? Sure. But consider for a moment that “agricultural biotechnology” is basically mystic business-speak for “managing the sexual activity of plants”. I know what you’re thinking, and I must gravely inform you that you are correct, the answer is yes: an agricultural biotechnologist is, in fact, a pimp for plants.
The more you know…
Have you ever heard the saying, ‘The more you know, the more you know how little you know?” (the internet seems to ascribe it to both Aristotle and Einstein, but what quote isn’t these days). In other words, surely one of the most convincing arguments for a lack of human seriousness and intelligence is the very fact that we think we are so serious and intelligent?
All this to say: I find it oddly comforting to remember that everything serious grew out of something absurdly ridiculous, and vice-versa.
