★ The antidote to corporate claptrap ★
Self-help for the mildly unhinged
JOIN THE RESISTANCEDerek Tomlinson was a Senior Systems Analyst from Nuneaton. Not a bad man. Not a good man. A beige man. A man so professionally invisible he once sat in the same open plan office for eleven years without anyone learning his surname.
His screensaver was the default one. His packed lunch was always a cheese sandwich. He drove a Nissan Micra the colour of mild regret.
For twenty-three years, the bollocks built up. The away-days. The vision workshops. The values refresh. The culture survey that asked how he felt and then ignored the answer.
Scientists would later estimate that by the spring of last year, Derek contained more concentrated corporate nonsense per square centimetre than any human being in recorded history. More than a McKinsey partner. More than a TEDx speaker who also sells retreats.
He was, in scientific terms, a bullshit supernova waiting to happen.
The trigger, when it came, was a laser pointer. A man called Piers. 187 slides. Slide 34. The words "Unlocking the Power of People-Centred Digital Ecosystems to Drive Synergistic Value Outcomes Across the Enterprise."
Derek gripped the edge of the table. The biscuits vibrated slightly.
And then something snapped.
When the light faded, Derek was standing on the table. His shirt had split along the back seam. His underpants had risen to a height that defied both physics and reason. In his hand was a flipchart paper cape.
BULLSHIT DETECTOR MAN WAS BORN.
Piers pointed the laser at him. It bounced off.
Derek has not been back to the office. Nobody noticed. Piers is still on slide 34.
READ THE FULL ORIGIN STORYBelieves the universe is a customer service desk offering next-day delivery. Smells faintly of sandalwood and financial instability. Has a vision board featuring a beach house, a Tesla, clearer skin and a soulmate with emotional availability.
"Think of the car. Choose the colour. Smell the leather."
Former IT analyst. Y-fronts at medically inadvisable heights. Cape made from flipchart paper. No myth is un-bustable. No cliché is safe. Last seen hovering above Nuneaton, looking for more time-honoured wisdom to aggressively correct.
"Sniffing it out. Then calling it for what it is."
Somewhere between a life coach, a fridge magnet and a woman who has had enough. Wears leopard print. Her affirmations are not designed to soothe you. They are designed to prod you in the ribs with a breadstick.
"You are enough. But also... maybe try a bit harder."
Has never met momentum without immediately forming a steering group. Can drain urgency from a room in under twelve seconds. Catchphrase: "Action feels a bit strong." Resides in a windowless meeting room surrounded by yesterday's pastries.
"Let's not rush. Momentum can be destabilising."
A glossary for anyone trying to stay sane in a civilisation held together by caffeine, passwords and mild panic.
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