Ineffectual.

The last few days I have felt like shit.

No surprise there.

I'm treated like shit.

Treated like a line item on a budget.

With more work dumped on me so that margins can be made.

How can George be optimized?

Used?

Folded. Spindled. Mutilated.

During World War II, the ratio of soldiers to officers was about 10 to one.

Today, in the US, it's about five to one.

We have doubled the ranks of "managers," "paper pushers," "swivel chair conductors," "desk jockies."

We have halved the number of people doing the work.

We no longer do.

We talk about what we're going to do.

And there's no one left to do it.

Next time you get an email, take a look at the people copied on it.
Do the math.
Calculate the number of people who work.
Versus the number of people who manage work.

If you want to get really dour, think about the semantics of our trade.
We don't even write anymore. Or art direct.
We process words. Or push pixels.

If someone in management reads this and agrees with it,
I bet I know what will happen.

They won't do anything.
That's too tough.

They'll call a meeting to talk about it.