Mind Nomad Writing

• 95% of staff would prefer to keep social interactions to a bare minimum
• 73% of staff are very satisfied knowing very little about one another
• 36% of staff have asked a question
• 100% of staff reporting on themselves for making an inquiry were satisfied with how their report was handled

• Results from the most recent statistical analysis estimating staff perceptions

In the nuanced work of staff interactions, it is important to appreciate the complexity of these interactions. One should always remain mindful of the potential organizational risks associated with interpersonal interactions. To support the successful navigation of these interactions, below is a compendium of broad and specific questions that all those in staff relations roles would be wise to avoid and to coach leaders to avoid in their individual staff interactions as well. 

The following non-exhaustive list contains examples of socially disruptive inquiries. 

Next to each question you will note specific symbols. These symbols pertain to the categorical designation for each ‘insensitive inquiry’ referenced within this compendium. A legend follows to further elucidate this coding below the ‘insensitive inquiry’ question bank.

Insensitive Inquiries:

• Do you have a preferred name? (/)
• Do you have any children? (/)
• Do you want children? (+)
• Why don’t you want children? (+)
• What happened to your children? (<x>)
• Are you in a romantic relationship? (***)
• Do you wish you were in a romantic relationship? (/)
• Why aren’t you in a romantic relationship? (***)
• Why don’t you wish you were in a romantic relationship? (#)
• How was your weekend? (/)
• Do you have any weekend plans? (+)
• Why don’t you have any weekend plans? (#)
• What do you think of the weather today? (<x>)
• Do you like coffee? (/)
• What are your career goals? (***)
• How are you managing after the loss of your…
  • Child (<x>)
  • Mother (<x>)
  • Father (<x>)
  • Spouse (<x>)
  • Government-sanctioned food voucher (#)
  • Government-sanctioned housing voucher (#)
  • Limb (***)
  • Government-sanctioned sanity (#)
• What are your hobbies? (/)
• Why don’t you have hobbies? (***)
• Do you require workplace accommodations? (+)
• Why do you require workplace accommodations? (***)
• What kind of food do you like? (/)
• Do you have any government-approved allergies? (#)
• Who is your government-approved emergency contact? (/)
• Why don’t you have a government-approved emergency contact? (#)
• Have you participated in the government-sanctioned voting event? (***)
• When will you participate in the government-sanctioned voting event? (***)
• How will you participate in the government-sanctioned voting event? (#)
• Why haven’t you participated in the government-sanctioned voting event? (#)
• How do you like working here? (***)
• Why don’t you like working here? (#)

Symbol	Meaning
+	Potential for morale destabilization
/	Prohibited relational probing
<x>	Inquiry historically associated with attrition events
***	May trigger disclosure cascade
#	Likely to warrant immediate escalation to industry Monitors

As a helpful rule of thumb, staff should remember that curiosity is not a protected behavior in the workplace.

If you follow the three-step decision-making process for inquiries, you will successfully circumnavigate unintended consequences.

1. The best inquiry is the one that never even crossed your mind
2. The second best inquiry is the one you never ask
3. If you happen to ask a question, stay calm, and report it on

Remember, the staff interaction team is here to receive and analyze all reports.

#Drudgery

(translated from original barbaric languages and made fit for human consumption. contributors included birds of the sky, fish of the sea, beasts of the field, the ocean deep, and dark forests)

Oh, great, Anthropochine, innumerable are your victories – tremendous your feats – titanic your accomplishments.

You willed yourself from the waters onto bent limbs, stood upright, took your place on your throne, and now send the tamed machinery out to do your bidding.

The earth itself bows before your existence, cracking in half and celebrating your dominion with the flashing sky and swirling sea. The increasing levels of heat you feel are just a humble offering to express adoration.

Your fellow planetary passengers look with astonishment on the productions of your hands. With your initiatives and conquests you’ve fashioned entirely new environments. Dark, hard, and cold the spires of your expansion pierce the once-impenetrable expanse above.

The clever construction of your intersecting pipelines is worthy of unrelenting exaltation. One leads in, the other leads out. One runs over, the other runs under. One feeds. One expels. A highly complex organism indeed.

With the fabricated pipeline you draw life into your veins, extracting from lands far and wide, funneling vitality to the beating heart. With the organic pipeline you expel and discard, distributing your excrement away from feeding mouths. 

In your infinite wisdom you ground protective compounds in your pestle and mortar. You concocted a thick and binding paste made of preservatives, supplements, and psychotropics to coat the inside of your organic pipeline, to ensure none of the toxins could leak out. Who but you, oh Anthropochine, could devise such an enlightened insolation.

It is not the moon we seek to honor with our howling. It is not the sun we greet with our chirping. It is not the sky we aim to extol with our leaves and budding flowers. It is you, oh great Anthropochine. that we endeavor to please. Endlessly, sleeplessly, sacrificially, hopelessly. We seek your adoration. 

Anticipating our collective acknowledgement we wait, we watch, we choke, we burn.

#read-b4-itburns

unaware and unconcerned, the tide carried me further and further, out here to the open ocean. i scan the horizon for any signs of familiarity, anything solid to keep me afloat, but i find none. this is the point at which i must adapt and press on or falter and divide. 

but i have never been much of a conqueror and these frontiers always have a way of extinguishing my ambition. my chest feels heavy as cold water enters my lungs, my breathing feels labored as i recognize the endless void that lies ahead. 

my separate fears begin to colonize and construct a settlement of utter paranoia in my brain. hopelessly i lift my eyes one last time. the image of the grey, overbearing sky burns itself into my mind. i close my eyes and in a moment i am submerged, slowly i descend. weightless and emotionless i sink. 

no panic and no fight left inside, i drift with the waves. somewhere between surrender and sleep something brushes past my legs. frantically i open my eyes only to see the light from above dancing faintly on its watery stage. the dancing slows to a flickering and the light fades away, taking with it everything tangible. all my striving and dedication reduced to nothing, a piece of driftwood picked up and tossed against the raging waves. this is loss. 

as my eyes turn down i search for any gleam to guide my departure. my thoughts return to the brush past my legs as i realize that i am not alone. i am surrounded by creatures too hideous for life on the surface. eyes like balloons, teeth set like so many rows of jagged knives, skin shimmering like glass. this is the point at which i adapt, but not to press on, simply to survive in this new environment. 

failure makes a suitable teacher at these depths and i am an eager student. this is where my adaptation skills flourish, miles below, in secrecy, out of sight. 

look through my transparent skin and gaze upon my crooked spine. i am one of them, a wanderer roaming this dark expanse searching for the light, a vagrant drifting in these icy currents clinging to any warmth i can find. 

this is where i belong. buried with the misunderstood. left to scurry across the ocean floor, the only place i can call home, thriving in isolation.

#i am. Confront. OBEY. embRACE.

diplomacy grows pale while the trumpet sounds. this is where we make our last stand. we’re taking it into our own hands. the general feasts while his company comes face to face with their disastrous end. i will drown you in the shallow well of grace. i won’t wait any longer. open wide and swallow my bayonet. taste and repent. our infantry stands strong. the pulpit and a missile launcher. i can see why you dress in armor. like father, like son and vice versa. sound off for the roll call, this is our tally. but there is no love in numbers.

#The Writing Writer

self-imposed conviction and rigid law define this existence. void of commitment, yet completely dedicated to making this warped reality into a life. unsustainable and sporadic build and destroy carve the deep valleys across my brow. hopelessness and meaningless reaction forge the needle of this compass, pioneering a future with a desperate trajectory. marching to the cadence of a pulsating heart and the rhythm of a restless mind. these empty offerings create endless piles of kindling before insatiable gods. i sit alone on a throne of bone-dry timber. the spark was set long ago by the constant friction of these wandering feet. once a dim and distant ember has become an ocean of blazing justice consuming the storybook landscape i have assembled. rationalization and religiosity were once an adequate barricade between my kingdom and the encroaching tide. both now lie in charred ruin as my very throne begins to crackle. the truth of my own deceit and the guilt of my hands are laid bare and exposed beneath the burning waves. i watch as my synthetic empire melts, my half-hearted penance and blemished sacrifices decimated, never fully willing to exchange this fabricated reality. this is the only way it can end. let the flames crash. if i survive this purge it will be as a prisoner, an exile, a captive.

# The Writing Writer

a new morning has dawned. it came hand in hand with reform. progressing and expanding to the setting sun. refining the air we breathe. turning weeping faces into expressionless stares. 

at least it’s an improvement. 

every afternoon the old politicians are marched out back and smothered with blueprints. our once harmless habits evolved into dark and soulless vices. they creep in the shadows and devour us with bloodstained teeth in the secret of our homes.

aware of their intentions, we left our doors cracked. graveyard masterfully transformed into a playground. 

at least it’s an improvement.

if hidden bones reveal, our utopia vanishes.

#i am. Confront. OBEY. embRACE.

against the backdrop of indoctrinated reality we derive truth from the hidden corners of our private logic, sometimes known as memories. 

if this is a cult, then label me a zealot. if the fire needs an author, let my fingerprints spell out

‘A-R-S-O-N.’ 

in the search for the origin of these disasters, find my heart at the epicenter. this pack of wolves calls me their fearless leader but i can see the hunger in their eyes. unfortunately their tastes are pretty indiscriminate. 

in these modern times we behave so instinctively. like naive pigs, we blindly trust the farmer as he feeds our family to us. 

but we can’t help it, as soon as that meat hits the ground we fight to stay alive. all archaic standards are neglected in our intestines. 

i step forward into compromise armed with habits as narcotics. instead of spilling the blood of noble cattle or innocent sheep we supply the atonement with the steady stream of our collective cocaine nosebleed. an offering of the purest intent. 

we search for significance in a new, foreign land. but when did exploring become settling?

#read-b4-itburns

contractors dividing real estate in the oceans. deserts housing a metropolis. oxygen takes the form of our drug. chest reduced to a cage. we save the last dance for the oil fields. i open my mouth as the crow makes his nest. scars contain prophesy for vengeance. stomach full of parasites. making me sick as they are a constant reminder of the form i’ve become. all principles abandoned. we created this clockwork world. purity still remains. if you blink you will miss it, as we contaminate it with our hearts. will our desperate search for meaning end at monuments and self improvement?

#i am. Confront. OBEY. embRACE.

wasted decades. the clock ticks down to our final seconds. air raid sirens steal the place of all laughter. we are held captive within cement and glass cages. 

our hands were never used to shake and our eyes were only used to pass along our judgemental glances. apologizing on our own terms, amenable to a generous arbitration.

species survival dependent on ambush and nihilism. consumed by stubborn self-dependence.

clouds of smoke and fire forecast our weather. nobody escapes this cannibal treaty. 

priest and lawyer are left homeless and searching for work. the mortician and the gunsmith compose the vertebrae of this frail society. troops transform empty schoolrooms into barracks.

run to the hospital. find the stockade. put your faith in your arms, and if not, your arms, then the codeine.

we cry out, “i can’t remember the snow! i can’t remember the rain! i can’t remember the clouds!” has the sky always been so tainted orange by day and so faded violet by night?”

#i am. Confront. OBEY. embRACE.

here in this manufactured city we sleep safely inside the elastic walls or our suburbia. an ever-expanding kingdom produced by the assembly line. 

everyone here dreams of living but these dreams remain forgotten in the confines of our lonely beds. 

the bright sun, burning in the cloudless sky is courtesy of the weathermen hidden in their balloons high above. they forecast a downpour of eternal bliss. 

as the pills rain down, the sun melts our plastic landscape. the air we breath is toxic, yet we go on breathing just the same. 

this complaisant existence carries the weight of extinction. while the bombs fall we cheer for the curtain call. 

if we find this meaning in our minds then is it meaning at all?

#i am. Confront. OBEY. embRACE.