Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.

Jesus! Bad waves of paranoia, madness, fear and loathing, intolerable vibrations in this place. Get out! The weasels were closing in. I could smell the ugly brutes.
- Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

While I'm grateful to be working again and I appreciate some of the perks of this job, I gotta say: office culture blows chunks.

I've come to realize just how sheltered I've been from the reality that undergirds "Dilbert" cartoons and the overwrought stereotypes populating perennial favourites like Office Space. Amazingly enough, small-minded, militantly envious, territorial, paranoid, pedantic tunnel-vision masquerading as policy is actually some kind of norm.

I've also come to realize that to many people, pointing this out is akin to pointing at the sky in amazement and whispering, "my god... it's blue!" I always feel like an idiot -- or at best, some kind of loinclothed artifact fresh from the murky depths of some primeval jungle -- when I try to communicate the rawness and profundity of my culture shock. I mean, I'm not exactly at the helm of the Enterprise, chronicling the births of stars -- it's an office job, I know. I get that. It's just so fucking weird.