The inmates are literally running the asylum, and I can explain why. By ‘literally’ I mean figuratively and by ‘explain’ I mean go on a mad rant. In 2013 Forbes magazine listed the 10 professions that attract psychopaths and by no surprise it’s filled with the most important professions in our society. So if you consider human civilisation on planet Earth as an open asylum, and there’s really no other way to look at it, then the psychos are running everything. CEO’s top the list, quelle surprise (that means OMG in sarcastic Italian). The recent revelations that Amazon workers are frequently seen to cry at their desks and that the company boasts that their standards are, ‘unreasonably high’ is a story that’s all too familiar to anyone who works for a big company where ‘success’ means having a full blown breakdown by 40 and crying into your breakfast cereal because you can’t remember your children’s names. Fun for all the family, and by family we mean your work colleagues because we foster a family environment in the office to substitute for the lack of family you’ll have after the divorce.
I worked for a company that demanded a seventy hour working week and ‘social’ time with colleagues on top of that. Not attending the ‘enjoyable’ nights out was detrimental to your promotion prospects and about as much fun as licking five hundred stamps with a whiskey hangover. And far from being the ‘team building’ exercise it was billed as, I found myself imagining the various ways I might impale my co-workers should the need ever arise. The fucked up thing about the situation was the robotic way we all spoke about the job and the nights out. I was lying like a drunk teenager but everyone else seemed to think that a few free beers and slices of pizza was compensation enough for robbing you of your Friday night. It felt like I was the insane one as everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves. I didn’t think it would be great for my boss to see me making moose mating calls while swinging my top around my head (not an unusual Friday night activity for me) and so wasn’t having much fun. Added to that we where in a bar full of douchebags dry riding the greasy pole of success and they certainly would not have been entertained (or aroused) by my moose mating calls or my developing beer belly. Thus my time with that organisation was limited, it turns out I’m not really psychopath material (which was quite the surprise for me).