Creative writing rebranded
It is a myth that any form of documentary or official or corporate record keeping needs to be accurate, let alone… truthful. In my post of 25 April, The Dunning-Kruger Effect, I was gobsmacked at being given the opportunity by that twit of a the People and Culture Partner to perform an exit interview (I shan’t mention for whom, instead, suffice it to say that it was for the benefit of the little shit former Bids and Tenders MisManager).
But truth be told, I was absolutely floored that they believed my story in the first place!
Novice readers to my blog may not know that I am a storycrafter extraordinaire – that’s Polish for – well, you know what it’s for. Some would use the term creative writer but I find it lame. And my storycrafting is anything but.
In fact, I am a master of the improvised narrative. A wizard (I would use the word witch but I know exactly what rhyme my detractors would respond with) of reality manipulation.
And that’s how I got to where I am!
You see, people – and especially management – do not have discernment. Discernment is for those with eyes to see and ears to hear, but believe me, they are few and far between.
Indeed, I am able to tell just about any story I please without any token display of resistance, save for the occasional troublesome employee burdened with memory, documentation, and a functioning internal monologue (thankfully, they don’t last long here).
Fortunately, organisations have developed highly sophisticated mechanisms for neutralising such annoyances people. These mechanisms are known collectively as “culture”.
Now, to be fair, management believes it values critical thinking. One sees this in mission statements constantly. We encourage innovation. We foster courageous conversations. We value authenticity.
What they actually value is emotional reassurance delivered in PowerPoint format.
The skilled operator understands this instinctively.
Never confront management with reality when a narrative will suffice. Reality is jagged, inconvenient, difficult to defend legally and often demands action. Narrative, by contrast, is soft, comforting and infinitely editable.
Editor’s Note
Karen’s observations here may strike some readers as exaggerated satire. Others, regrettably, may recognise them immediately.
Charlotte resumes her lesson
And so, there I sat in the exit interview — not merely as participant, but as author. Architect. Curator of institutional memory.
The P&C Partner nodded solemnly as I spoke, occasionally furrowing her brow in performative concern while mentally converting my every improvised allegation into future HR terminology.
“Perception of communication difficulties.”
“Resistance to feedback.”
“Challenges with stakeholder engagement.”
Magnificent phrases. So elegant in their ambiguity. Like little linguistic air fresheners sprayed over the corpse of objective reality.
I almost admired her.
Almost.
For the truly elite storycrafter knows the secret that lesser manipulators never grasp:
The most effective lie is not the one that is believed absolutely. It is the
one that is never meaningfully questioned.
Editor’s closing remarks
Mark Twain put it best when he said, “It’s easier to fool people that to convince them that they have been fooled.”
There is, perhaps, something darkly comic in Charlotte Kok’s occasional flirtations with honesty.
Not moral honesty, certainly.
But operational honesty.
She does not pretend the system is noble. She merely describes — with unsettling cheerfulness — how easily it may be persuaded to abandon reality when reality becomes administratively inconvenient.
And, disturbingly, she appears to be correct.
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