By Jeff Gainer
I have the good fortune to operate a software management consulting firm from a semi-remote valley in southwestern Montana. Every day or so, I get another resume. "Seeking employment in the state of Montana . . ." or "Currently looking to relocate to the Bitterroot Valley . . . ."
Lots of people want to move to Western Montana. Lots of them have already moved here. A prerequisite, though, is being able to earn a living here.
Sorry folks, but there are no jobs here with my company, ASC. There probably never will be. It wasn’t intended to be that way.
And, by the way, if you want to look for a job elsewhere, don’t count on that, either.
ASC was formed with a couple central ideas behind it. And no, I don’t mean the mission statement, or target markets, targeted services, etc.--none of the stuff in the business plan.
No, the central ideas I am referring to are much broader-based than the kind of management consulting services ASC offers. One of the key ideas—if not the key idea—since the formation of ASC has been the death of the Industrial Revolution.
Perhaps you’ve heard the theory before. A "job" is merely a historical aberration, a fleeting blip on the historical radar created by the Industrial Revolution. If you’re not familiar with these ideas, consult William Bridges’ Jobshift, Jeremy Rifkin’s The End of Work and the projections of the Sloan Management Review on the workplace in the year 2020. Or, for generalists, the Minneapolis Star-Tribune has encapsulated these ideas in "The Coming Trauma." We have indeed passed from the Industrial Revolution into something else. But what? The Information Age? Not yet. From my observations, we seem to be inextricably mired in the Dilbert Zone.
But the fallacious idea of the "job" as part of the natural evolution of things is so deeply ingrained in our collective psyche, even some employers are reluctant to give up the idea of the "job." I’ve been I more than one meeting with a potential client, been offered "full-time employment," and awkwardly turned it away, thanks but no thanks. I already have a "job," I say, that is, a successful company of my own to manage. And I can’t quite figure out why it’s offered. The word "control" came up in one of these negotiating sessions. Control? You want control? Meaning you can fire me? Look guys, here’s my standard retainer contract. It’s easy to get out of—no fault, no cause. Just tell me the contract is over. I’m at your disposal for another 30 days, then it’s goodbye.
Office space? No thanks, I already have a nice office. 197.5 square feet. Two computers, fax, three phones, dedicated data line, shredder, aquarium, couch and a really comfy chair. Oh…you want me in your office…? Whatever for?
I never a good answer for that one, either. So you can see me work? Look, guys I send itemized invoices, the time noted in 15-minute intervals. Well, no, if you don’t see me working, you don’t know what I’m doing, but then, if I’m in your office, you’re probably not too sure then, either. I once worked alongside a guy who surfed the Internet about 30% of his time. Why not? His employers were underpaying him as a junior programmer. He did far more work in 40 hours than any other junior programmer did, so, he finished his work and then some, and the rest of the week was his.
The employers are as insecure of giving up the illusion of the job as are the employees. The simple fact is that there are no lifetime contracts anymore. So, next time some insecure company offers me an employment contract. . .hmm . . . let’s see, I’m 38 now. . . I’ll offer them an option. First, my standard contract with a no-cause 30-day exit clause. The client names the length of the contract. And the alternative: a 24 year employment contract, with grievance procedures, guaranteed salary reviews, and all the legal complications and obligations of employment.
Guess which one they’ll take?
Copyright 1997, by Jeff Gainer