Proof of life

Proof of life.

A phrase that conjures up mental images of a hostage holding a newspaper. Proving that at the time of recording, they had been alive. Detained by a bad actor. Deprived of liberty. Prevented from escape.

Their captors a criminal gang. Extremist. Pirate. Rebel. Religious loon. Terrorist. Oppressive regime.

For those most fortunate, of means or owed favours, a small team of crack troops resembling the Dirty Dozen or the Expendables might be loading weapons and plotting a daring rescue.

The majority rely on hope that apathy, fate, or faith might change their circumstance.

A select few understand that agency is the only reliable way to improve things.

In reality, proof of life is far more mundane. Paperwork demanded by annuity providers, benefits agencies, and pension funds who wish to turn the cash flow tap off for those whose claims have expired.

The narrative may still feature the likes of Donald Sutherland or Sylvester Stallone, but only because their advancing years place them in the demographic where their longevity is in question.

Kind readers have raised questions and expressed concerns about the absence of new content at {in·deed·a·bly}. Theories ranged from the imaginative to the absurd. Spanning the gamut of alien abduction, death, deportation, divorce, illness, incarceration, inheritance, lottery win, relapse, or surrender to the AI overlords.

The reality is simple: life happened. Nothing dramatic. Just the humdrum of the everyday.

Competing priorities.

Demanding job.

Inspiration lacking.

Scarcity of time.

A recognition that something had to give. One of those somethings was writing new stories.

Time passed. A week. A month. Approaching six months. Routines disrupted. Habits broken.

Conditioned behaviours are funny that way. It is how we learn. Encouraged by what works. Finding our happy. The path to success. Dissuaded from repeating what doesn’t. Incurring pain. Enduring suffering.

Do the work. Repetition leads to muscle memory, then mastery. An overnight success is the result of a lifetime’s efforts. Success which only comes to those who continue to show up. Choose your own cliché.

Clichés are repeated widely and often. Seldom false. Sometimes true.

Avoid the don’ts. Catch a falling knife. Play with matches. Touch the hot stove. Make eye contact with the Alpha. Challenge authority. Behind every warning label is a lawsuit, behind every lawsuit is a lesson.

Humans are malleable creatures. Capable of accepting, normalising, and rationalising almost anything.

Alcohol and caffeine addictions are accepted and indulged. Adultery and heroin are less so. Gambling, obesity, and smoking are looked down upon, viewed as the product of weak character or poor impulse control. Arbitrary distinctions that don’t withstand scrutiny. Yet accepted nonetheless, until questioned.

But where does that acceptance come from? Conscious and considered choice? Or simple conditioning?

Authority and ethics define our moral compass. Which in turn guides our decision-making.

Imprinted upon us at a young age. Then evolving based on experience.

In small part, by what we are told: “do as I say”.

In larger part, by what we observe in those who have power over us: “deeds, not words”.

Things we absorb. Accept. Adopt. Imitate. Sometimes seek to emulate.

Rarely questioned.

Seldom challenged.

Lessons baked into our behaviours, long before we learn to consider the source of information.

Before we learned that our parents were fallible and flawed. Making it up as they went along.

Before we learned that some teachers had unsuccessfully pursued their dreams. Failed their way into becoming educators.

Before we learned some childhood priests, scoutmasters, and coaches were driven by instincts more untoward than altruistic.

Not all. Not even most. But enough to raise doubts, were we to stop and consider the origin of our rules.

My employer has rules. Lots of them. The annual mandatory compliance refresher reiterated them recently.

No outside business interests. No consulting. No side hustles. Staff should be well rested and refreshed. Devoting their best hours of concentration, focus, decision-making, and motivation to perform the jobs we pay them to do. We may rent only 1/3 of the hours in their day, but we demand 100% of their energy.

No outside investments. These misalign commercial outcomes and introduce potential conflicts of interest. Staff with funds to invest should purchase firm shares via the employee share scheme.

No media, either social or traditional. Employees are representatives of the firm. Anything the employee says, does, or implies may adversely impact their reputation and by extension the reputation of the firm.

No nepotism. It doesn’t matter how qualified friends or family may be. Avoiding negative perception matters more. That means no internships or graduate placements for employee children. Unless you reside in the C-suite, then the rules don’t apply.

No intellectual property rights. Any idea or invention you create while an employee is owned entirely by the firm. A cake recipe? Tiktok channel teaching tweens to twerk? Novel? Blog? The firm demands ownership of it all, but denies liability for any of it.

No compete. Experience gained at the firm can’t be used elsewhere. This means you can’t work for competitors, suppliers, vendors, or members of industry groups. Used Excel on the job? Sorry, you can’t work anywhere else that uses Microsoft products. Talked to our Big4 auditor? Sorry, now you can’t work anywhere that hires consultants from that same Big4 firm, in any capacity, anywhere in the world.

Of course, none of those rules are enforceable. The firm knew it. Employees suspected it. The threat wasn’t the outcome, it was the firm’s willingness to bankrupt employees via legal defence fees incurred.

On the deadline day for completing the compliance training, senior management announced they had entered the firm in an independent and objective “Best Places to Work” beauty pageant. They sought to apply the Amazon model, where candidates trade salary expectations for the conferred status of adding a strong brand to their resumes. All permanent staff were required to complete the survey, following firm issued guidance on how to answer the questions. “Best” place to work indeed!

A decade ago, I might have called bullshit on the cynicism and hypocrisy of these self-serving rules.

Surrendered to my inner saboteur’s urges to inwardly rage quit, while exiting with sufficient grace and dignity to ensure no bridges were burned and leaving my clients and colleagues eager to work with me again.

Accepting that attempting to fix others was a fool’s errand.

Understanding that expecting others to change was a recipe for disappointment.

Voting with my feet, to trade one bullshit job for another. Knowing all sites are pretty much the same. Yet still secretly hoping that maybe, just maybe, next time would be different. The curse of the incurable optimist!

A near death experience led to re-evaluation, as such things have a way of doing. Providing new insights. Altering the lens through which I perceived the world. No longer immortal, there was no time to waste.   

The work didn’t matter, not really. Projects were delivered, then forgotten in a month and discarded within a decade.

The games and bullshit didn’t matter, not really. Silly things amusing simple minds and fragile egos.

The money didn’t matter, not really. An enabler, not a goal. A necessary evil, but a means to an end. Once we reach the point of “enough”, magic numbers like net worth and salary level become meaningless comparators. A way of keeping score in a game that nobody else is playing.

My changed priorities resulted in five years’ worth of semi-retirement. Glorious rose-coloured hindsight remembers the bliss of idleness and the blessing of time. It conveniently forgets the yearning for meaning and challenge of identity, self-indulgent questions that only those with nothing better to do have the luxury of pondering.

Alas all good thing come to an end.

Three years ago, a hostage exchange ensued. My financial freedom for an ongoing relationship with my children. Investing the time while the time still mattered. Running interference when the bipolar winds blew strong and the behaviours became increasingly erratic. Semi-retirement surrendered for salaried employment and an eye-watering mortgage. Families are complicated, mine as much as any.

Which brings us back to proof of life. Any good hostage drama requires it. Providing comfort to loved ones and credence to cashflows whose continued existence are contingent on mortality being kept at bay.

After nearly six months of silence, this story is to reassure interested parties that I’m still alive.

In a few short months, for the first time in 15 years, school drop offs will no longer be required. School holidays transition from fun necessity to enjoyable option.

A year later, my elder son will have left home. His main university selection criteria: anywhere but here.

I’m not going to lie, the last few years have been tough. However, I’ve attempted to make the best of an unfortunate situation. Patience, preparation, and planning have put the time to good use. Steve McQueen and Charles Bronson may not be digging me a tunnel out, but I’ve embraced their theme tune if not their methods.

My employer may be overbearing. My workload overwhelming. But they are also overpaying, roughly 50% over current market salaries. It isn’t sustainable, but it doesn’t have to be over the long term.

My once non-existent pension has become a late bloomer, tax breaks embraced and salary not the only sacrifice made for the cause of future me.

After giving birth to a house deposit, my ISA has recovered lost ground, if not the lost compounding years. Proof once more that eye-watering financial hits in the moment are usually mere glancing blows over the medium term.

I trust this story puts concerned minds at ease. Thanks for caring, it means a lot.

I won’t promise that normal service will be resumed anytime soon.

Nor can I promise that this story hasn’t been autogenerated by our AI overlords, as part of an elaborate hoax or devious benefits fraud scheme.

But if it were, it wouldn’t have featured that last paragraph. Or would it?

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