Post-Traumatic Webinar Disorder

Illustration by Bill Jordan

Illustration by Bill Jordan

I’ve seen things, man.
Things which cannot be unseen.

Slides full of paragraphs, full of jargon, full of more bullets than an M16.
Like the phantom vibrating of a cell phone that’s not in my pocket, I can’t escape The Webinar.

I wake up in a cold sweat, screaming out “TEN STRATAGIES TO CONVERT CLICKS TO CUSTOMERS!” and “TRANSLATING YOUR PERSONAL BRAND INTO SALES!” to no one in particular, but at society as a whole.

My wife and kids left. Then the dog abandoned me.

Now, it’s just the cat and I and even he isn’t interested in the dozen slides I put together on “Under the Couch: Fur to Kibble Ratios.” It must be the slide on vacuum power vis-a-vis tuna consumption that has him bugged out. I don’t even know anymore.

I don’t shower. I don’t shave. I telecommute now and have no need for the cubical. I’ve transcended the need for a human’s touch. My laptop and internet connection are my only ties to the physical plane. I have become the living embodiment of the duality of the mind-body split.



I never stopped working on Friday, bossman.

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