Subject: On the Fragility of Our Modern Legion

Recipient: HQ@yahoo.com 

Dear esteemed Headquarters (HQ),

I write to you not from the Danube frontiers, but from the peeling breakroom of the North Wing. I write to you because there are horrors not on the battlefields, but in the “General” Slack channel; the populace weep because the supply of glyphosate-free Chobani unsweetened oat milk with no additives has been depleted. 

In the past fortnight, I have observed the conduct of our “team,” and I find their discipline—or lack thereof—to be thinner than paper. Below is my voluntary report on their lack of areté (excellence).

First, I’d like to express my concerns over what was aforementioned: the “oat milk” crisis. This morning, a great great battlecry arose because the communal refrigerator on the 7th floor lacked a specific "Chobani" milk of oat. A junior associate declared it an “emergency” and hurriedly retreated to a therapeutic beanbag chair, notifying us that he would be “contemplating the injustices of the universe” for the next 20 minutes.

I reminded him: “Everything that happens happens as it should, and if you observe carefully, you will find this to be so.” If there is no oat milk, then the universe has willed a morning of black coffee. To desire that which is not present is to be a prisoner of your own thirst. He exploded at me, saying I was “invalidating and being insensitive to his feelings.” I mentioned that his feelings were merely a speck in the broader landscape of history. He has since then filed a report with HR.

Another instance which demonstrates the lack of areté, I believe, occurred when the “Wi-Fi” signal vanished for a brief duration of thirty minutes. Immediately, my co-workers abandoned their posts as if the Marcomanni had breached the firewalls. “We cannot work!” they cried, as they packed their leather briefcases to flee for the sanctuary of their homes.

I stood at the router contemplating: “If you are pained by external things, it is not they that disturb you, but your own judgement of them. And it is in your power to wipe out that judgement now.” Man can perfectly create a spreadsheet with a stylus and wax tablet—without the need for “internet.” If the “Wi-Fi” is “down,” use the silence to meditate on your own morality. My peers did not think similarly, as evidenced by their choice to rush homeward. I think they are entrapped by the “ping.”

In recent days, there has been much talk of the artificial intelligence that now drafts our project proposals and calculates our institution’s monthly GVA. The people rejoice, for they believe that they have been “freed” from the burden of thought. 

But I ask: what remains of a man if he surrenders his reason to a machine? If your dear friend Claude AI composes your emails and plans your meetings, is it you who sits in your cubicle or simply a hollow vessel pining for the 5:00 p.m. whistle? I caught an intern using a “ChatBot” to write a condolence card. I told him that even a gladiator knows that a fake heart is worse than a cold one.

Lastly, I am aware that we are granted days to “rest the mind.” I ask, from what labor does the mind need rest? The labor of checking “notifications?” The struggle of choosing a font?

I believe true rest is not found in a “spa day,” but rather in a mind that is at peace with its duty. If your work is a burden, it is because you have made it so. I informed the Management Director that the “burnout” he feels is just the friction of his ego rubbing against reality. He suggested I read the “Employee Handbook.” I suggested he read the Enchiridion. We are at an impasse.

The “culture” cultivated in this office is a swamp of luxury and softness. We must return to discipline before it is too late. Here are some of my suggested reformations:

• Replace the height adjustable “standing” desks with hard, wooden ones

• Replace the snack tub with basic porridge (and at most dried figs)

• Anyone who mentions the word “synergy” shall be sent to the mailroom for a month of solitary reflection

If you are interested, I am happy to and would love to share more (Fret not, I have many more at my disposal).

Our life is what our thoughts make it,

Marcus Aurelius

Interim Operations / Full-Time Thinker and Meditator