The Pyramid Corporation: Your Grade School Teacher for Adults
I can now proudly say that I have finished the initial draft of Developer Hegemony. Currently, it weighs in at a robust 376 pages that contain my blood, sweat, and tears.
Digitally speaking, anyway.
I haven’t yet published the preview of it because I want to give the people I interviewed a chance to peruse the draft before I make their words available. But I promise that you’ll have a chance to read in its entirety soon.
I have a lot more coming on that front as well, including the announcement of a launch date, so stay tuned.
I mention completing the book because this should leave me with more time and material to post here on DaedTech. I’ve mostly cross posted from the other blogs I write for of late, but look for an uptick in posts here.
Alongside that change, I’m going to be shuffling some other things around in my life as well, and changing my focus somewhat in the coming months. I’ll get to all of this later, but for now, suffice it to say that I plan to post more about the suboptimal current state of the corporate entity and what I believe we can do about it.
And, I’ll start that tonight, with a theme that I wanted to address but didn’t fit particularly well in the book itself. I’m talking about all of the ways that the corporation has come to simulate a sort of parental/teacher hybrid for adults.
Caveats
Before I go too far, I want to say that I’m not intending to serve up a blistering critique of society, per se. I feel more philosophical and observational about this.
In other words, think less “this is all so stupid and people are sheep” and more “how and why did we get to this place?”
I understand the how, to some degree. I think, anyway.
Pyramid shaped corporations (the standard corporate structure) have a knack for becoming less than the sum of their parts. You can get buy with common sense up to a certain level of scale, and then finally you get some weirdo that likes to clip his fingernails next to the coffee machine no matter how much anyone asks him not to.
Then, bam.
You’ve got a sign next to your coffee machine exhorting people not to clip their fingernails, and your whole company looks ridiculous.
I think that organizational childishness tends to scale more than linearly with the average marginal childishness of individuals hired. The bigger you get, the more your collective adulthood escapes.
Still, though, it’s amazing we don’t blink more often and scratch our head at the state of things.