HR: The Paradox

There are roughly three kinds of artists in New York City.

1) Wildly successful artists.
2) Artists who work at restaurants.
3) Artists who work in offices.

I am an artist who works in an office. I am too much of a weenie to work in a restaurant. I have insanely strong arms, yet the thought of lifting a tray makes me want to go on strike.

I first started working in this law firm (the office from which I'm writing at this very moment) in November, 2002. It is now July, 2006, and it's been what we office artists commonly refer to as "a long fucking time." At first it was charming: I would get up early and get dressed up for work everyday and pretend to be somebody I wasn't-- Perhaps acting the role of a lifetime. It's a role I'm still playing, in fact, but on a much more angry, desperate level. Some might say "method."

My friends who were restaurant artists warned me I'd get too comfortable. They were right. I've gotten comfortable and brain dead as my office has become larger, colder, and more corporate. During the fake "you may speak freely" portion of my annual review this past June, I tried desperately to describe my strange, complex feelings about the office atmospheric change to our Regional HR Manager, a corporate robot woman I'll refer to as Motorola. My friend M came up with that because she's convinced she plugs herself into a wall at night to recharge. It's Motorola's job to peel the human face off every single one of the firm's offices on the east coast, and to assemble protocol for every possible question or problem ever to arise . And when a new problem pops up, she stores its resolution away in her little Motorola brain for safe-keeping, until she writes it down and it becomes the Word. Motorola is part of the firm's initiative to make this place a little more uniform-A little more homogenized. During my meeting, when I used the words "cold" and "corporate" in the same sentence, she tapped her pen on her chin and smiled a little--the first time during our 35 minutes together. She took the word "corporate" as a compliment, she said, and referred to it as a "new firm-wide initiative." She seemed to be filled with pride that that I'd even mentioned the word. Even a little touched.

To me, the term "Human Resources" is a joke. When you call HR in this office, it's a process not unlike being on hold with Dell Tech Support then being transferred to some guy in Bombay who trouble shoots your problem by reading from a "choose your own ending" script.

Every time I call with an issue, one of two things happens: The initial response is "Can you email your question to me?" Email you? I've got you on the phone right now. Why the fuck would I want to do that?

Then I may get a loud, punishing, indiscreet sigh followed by the shuffling of papers, the clicking of a keyboard, and the lightly-condescending recitation of a long piece of policy that's been hidden on some obscure page of the firm-wide intranet. There's a manual and an easy answer for everything in this place, and supposedly (if you can find it) it's all on the intranet---the go to for everything from vacation time to office discounts at the local tanning salon. I suspect that one day, companies will eliminate HR entirely and will replace it with the goddamn intranet. The way it's set up, I don't think they want to be bothered until you're ready to quit.

I am so ready for a face-to-face meeting.