Sometimes in a store or coffee shop, I run into someone fully embodying their role as a cog in an inhuman machine. I can ask them "How are you?" as earnestly as I can, but together we're so good at faking earnestness that I can't get through to the human in there.
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I've been on the other side: The role can protect the person, like a uniform. It creates distance between them and the things they have to do. But at the same time, I ache for those people when I see them leave themselves behind, 8 hours a day, every day, for years.
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Sometimes we think we need to chain ourselves for our job or role or fitting in. There's a lot of chaining ourselves preemptively, just in case.
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Replying to @mesolude
makes me think of alive & dead players. and how a role can force you to act dead. trading your agency for -safety from irate customers or -sanity from bureaucratic bullshit.
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being weird or going meta can pop out. It can be wonderful when you "glimpse behind the mask" I was quite strange in a therapy session once, we ended up in a interesting space. It's not all bad tho, roles & heihrachy is defs one way civilisation gets shit done.
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