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[!remark] Got it? (==LINK all’album==)
Academia isn’t for me (==LINK==) I used to believe that research meant juggling ideas and advancing
humanity’s scientific
understanding.
Turns out, it’s a hellscape of publications and citation games.
As I was realizing that, I came across the book The Power of Business Process Improvement. That book gave me hope: maybe there are jobs where you analyze problems and solve them (much like the science I believed in)! So I thought: “Why not try something more... business?”
After some research, the roles I was looking for turned out to be Operational Efficiency and
Business Process Improvement. At that stage, even figuring out the right roles felt
like progress.
But like in every fairy tale, it didn’t take long to spot the catch: those are corporate roles.
Still, not knowing what I was getting into, I told myself “Gotta start somewhere,” and started
applying.
In those corporate positions, the preferred background is a degree in business management.
As a mathematician, I had to submit a lot of applications and go through three interviews before
landing an offer: a 6-month internship in Italy as an Operational Excellence Intern, paying
$7/hour.
I expected the worst from a corporate role, but the interviews went surprisingly well: the HR rep was
friendly and helpful; the supervisor was sharp, professional, and asked smart questions. I was sold: I
accepted the offer without
hesitation.
One month later, I quit.
We’re talking about a M A S S I V E multi-billion dollar corporate.
The kind where a post like this gives my lawyer a heart attack. To stay out of trouble, let’s go with a
redacted version:
“A manufacturing company responsible for ██% of the global distribution of ⧫. The plant where I worked spans ████ square meters, cost ████ million euros to build, and hosts ████ people every day.”
It can be divided into 3 phases
On Day 1, I badged through three layers of security and felt like “This is a serious place.”
I mean: the safety course at the digital kiosk, the corporate benefits brochure, the jaw-dropping production volumes... I walked through it all with wide eyes.
Once I put on my PPE and stepped into the production area, I saw cutting-edge ⧫ manufacturing.
That wasn’t a normal site: it’s the company’s jewel.
“And I’m here, ambitious and ready to contribute”
Then Day 2 happened.
The part where I actually do the job.
In my case:
And the team’s work is not better:
“Ah.”
“I came here to solve business problems and I’m translating slides.”
After a month, I had a 1:1 with my supervisor to plan the rest of the internship. Three projects were on the table:
My response was:
The answer: “These are the team’s needs. There’s no flexibility.”
My answer: “Then this doesn’t align with my goals. I am done here.”
Beyond my assigned tasks, I saw so much dysfunction I couldn’t help but start taking notes.
A lot of notes. 10,000 words. In just one month.
Coming off another experience (==LINK==), one rule I’d imposed on
myself ended up saving me:
If you’ve seen enough to want to write about it, it’s time to leave.
Here’s how my first day actually went.
No one told me when to show up, so I arrived early. The receptionist didn’t know what to do and told me
to call my supervisor.
“I don’t have the number”
“I have it. We’ll call around 8.”
We find out my supervisor was on vacation. We escalated to his manager, who came
to pick me up at 9 like a parent picking up a lost kid at customer
service.
A week later: induction day.
Again: no one told me the time.
I had to crash the event and (surprise!) wasn’t even on the attendance list!
For an obligatory event where we had to sign documents!!!
I quickly realize that “a big company works only if everything works well” is bullshit. The chaos is managed just enough to not collapse.
People inside are the first to point this out, forced to “keep things afloat via WhatsApp
messages and Teams calls”.
The same company that claims to be “one of the most advanced in the world,” flexing ISO certifications
(= days full of meetings) ...and yet it runs on iPhones, Microsoft PCs, and outdated software.
But still: the plant produces █–██ million ⧫ per day, sold at █$ per unit, across ██ operational lines, printing █B$ in global profits every █k employees.
This plant was built in a perfect location.
Central enough to attract young workers from the South (fleeing mafia and irregular labor) and immigrants (chasing a better life): a steady, self-replacing stream of labor; and north enough to pull in graduates from top universities for management roles. On top of that, the local man loves getting his hands dirty: the perfect profile to fill an army of ████ operators. This plant wouldn’t work otherwise: too much mafia further south, too many managers further north.
Most tasks are now standardized and require minimal skill.
Which means: almost anyone can do almost anything. The real challenge isn’t
the job, it’s surviving the corporate environment.
So hiring is done in bulk.
If someone quits? No big deal: easy to replace.
(I’d hear “Today is X’s last day” every week.)
If someone endures the corporate life and (optionally) knows how to do the job: great!
A new pawn gets promoted, and a new batch moves in. Besides manufacturing slaves for the C-level,
this strategy fuels the narrative: “Anyone can make it.” Among the (low level) managers,
you’ll find former machine operators, shop assistants, even cops. Not because they have rare skills,
but because they could tolerate the system.
Interns are a different story.
They’re usually graduates with degrees that don’t translate into jobs (I was the exception)
Basically: desperates. They’re thrown into menial tasks (to say the least…) and 90% of the time
they’re not hired after the internship.
But is still a great deal! Not for them, for the company: internships are funded by the regional
government.
Let’s talk about machine operators. They’re people used to working with their hands, with strong manual
skills, excellent spatial awareness, and work well together on the production floor.
In short: they’re the kind of people you want to keep the machines running.
Now, what does the team I landed in actually do?
Here’s how my supervisor explained it:
"Our goal is to build a lean mindset.
In 20 years, resources will be scarce, but we can use this time to trigger a cultural shift.
Since operators are the ones doing the actual work, we (white collars) are the loss.
Our job is to make up for their lack of self-management by teaching them to become self-sufficient.
In practice: teaching operators how to do the job “by the standard”,
and keeping them in check. How? By taking them from production and
sticking them in a classroom with slides.
Then taking their supervisors, scoring their performance, and giving
them grades.
Put yourself in the shoes of an operator who’s been doing this
for years.
He knows every part of the machine, can fix any issue, and sees the next
ones coming.
Wearing oil-stained shirts and technician pants, he sees us show up in
jeans and button-downs to explain that every time he cleans the machine,
he has to fill out a form. And whenever there’s a problem (even a loose
screw) he’s supposed to report it to the line lead, who logs it in the
system, runs an assessment, solves it, and logs the solution back
in.
The plant runs on a fragile balance: a symbiosis between workers and
machines.
Part of that balance relies on the operator’s personality. For its
underpaid roles, the company hires pragmatic profiles, referred
to as “monkeys” in internal jargon (even by upper management) (needless
to say, I don’t endorse it). These workers aren’t known for
programmatic, standardized maintenance, so the company hires managers to
coach them, trying to prevent long-term machine failures. In short: it
hires people for their practicality, then forces them to act
against it, risking the very balance that keeps the whole
system alive.
The company is fighting a war on two internal fronts, contradicting
its own methods (see: The Cannae
Problem). Will it work?
Yes, but not how they think. People are learning how to game the system:
they log some activities (just enough to show compliance),
report KPIs only when they look good (otherwise it’s “N/A”), and run
structured meetings only when someone’s watching. How could it
work, anyway? This isn’t a solution.
The solution would be: hire different people.
It is not really a “people problem” you can solve with “people
solutions”.
The problem is the people.
They fall into two archetypes (borrowed from an italian book):
The first is the machine operator: the average Italian, obsessed with
football, ultra-conservative traditionalist, whose biggest dream is
retirement. He doesn’t want new frameworks and complains about every new
tool.
The second is the opportunistic manager, a Gervais
Principle sociopath-in-training. Secretly loyal to hierarchy, but
never shows it (to avoid alienating the conformists around him). He
obeys with strategic discipline, hoping to rise to the top of the
pyramid.
The company is inherently pathological because is built out of what sabotages it.
It’s a problem that can’t be solved, because it’s not just compatible with the company’s
existence, the company actually
depends on it.
Which leads to the real question: If the problem is the people... why do the people stay?
When they told me there’s a free gym, free bus pass, and free cafeteria, I thought: “$7/hour is low, but it’s my first experience in this field, and the perks aren’t bad.”
These is the bullshit that got me, and the same ones that convince
people to stay.
And the company offers plenty: $100 bonuses for Christmas and birthdays,
recognition cards, a huge end-of-year party, 5 free coffees a
day, a free therapist, book clubs… It’s the only way to make the job
bearable: distract with anything except the job itself.
I mean: a $100 annual voucher sounds better than $8.50 more in your
paycheck.
Let’s be clear: we’re manufacturing ⧫ here.
We’re not changing the world, we’re not making it a better place. We’re
producing ⧫.
This can’t be a raison d’être. But the job keeps people
occupied, and the benefits keep people distracted.
Most don’t quit, and yet they complain every day, always finishing
with: “Well, at least we get paid for it.”
Once I
replied, “Weak consolation...”, the supervisor didn’t hesitate:
“Fat consolation!”
Self-persuasion keeps them going.
Their motto: we’re in prison, but at least the bars are made of
gold.
In The Simpsons Movie, Grandpa Simpson has a vision:
Horrible, horrible things are going to happen! (…)
Twisted tail! A thousand eyes!
TRAPPED FOREVER!
Beware! Beware!
Time is short!
EPA!! EPA!!! EEEEEEPAAAAAA!!!!!!!
Believe me! BELIEVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!
It’s the same vision I had after a few weeks on the job.
Italians have a complicated relationship with their country.
“Italy is the most beautiful country in the world” but then
“Politics is a disaster, salaries are low, taxes are insane...”
When I told interns about opportunities abroad, they’d reply “Then why did you come back?” with
that smug undertone “You love
Italy too much, huh?” Like the golden prison employees, they
survive through cognitive dissonance. They know things are
better elsewhere, but need to remind themselves why they stay: the food,
the sea, the family... From birth Italians are molded to simp for
their country, and politicians, well knowing this, exploit the
nostalgia effect.
Instead of fixing structural problems, they lure talent back from abroad
(a
LOT of talents abroad!) with weak incentives (like temporary
tax breaks). And for many, that’s enough. Officially for the
incentives, but really: for food, the sea, the family... This is
Italy: a country that gives up on its future by accepting what
it is, and slowly dies.
More on this here.
I hoped to connect with the other interns by sharing the ideas from
this post, but I realized they had no perspective. “I just want a
normal job. One where I leave at 5pm and don’t have to think about
anything. As long as they pay me, I’m good.”
How does a 25-year-old
end up with that as a life vision? I believe it’s the country: its work
culture, its universities (lots to
say here)... everything in Italy atrophies young people’s initiative.
Corporate life looks like a safe way out. It pulls
them in with an appealing job application, traps them with perks, holds
them for 40 years and retirement sneaks up without warning. Decades
doing the same thing, in the same 2m^2, producing the same ⧫ every day.
Decades decided in a few months of desperate job searching.
A few weeks in, I went to pick up some PPE, and that’s when I had
the vision. A guy, maybe 20 years old, was managing deliveries
from the warehouse.
He was slouched in his chair like someone who had been sitting there all
day.
At the computer, holding a roll of tape. Trying to find the end of it.
Five minutes passed. Same position, still searching, with no success. A
young mind, capable of who knows what, being paid to find the end of a
roll of tape. Something hit me.
It was sadness, sharp and overwhelming. I understood and I wanted to do
something. I wanted to shake him.
To wake him up.
To sound like a lunatic if I had to, but tell him to get out.
That he could do anything with his life.
That the world is full of opportunities.
That he was wasting his time with that roll of tape, at that desk, in
that company. I wanted to do the same with the other interns.
To break the corporate trance.
Not just them: I wanted to tell everyone. They all deserve to
know.
What are you doing? Do you not see where you’ve ended up?
Then the other guy came out, handed me the PPE, I said thanks, and walked back to my office.
I deeply believe that understanding the concept of value is
one of the most important skills a person can develop.
From product pricing to the value of time, it underpins everything.
Living alone has drastically sharpened this skill for me (though I
wouldn’t claim to have mastered it yet) and one of the most powerful
(and perhaps underrated) tools that helped me is
BATNA.
Best Alternative To a
Negotiated Agreement: the best course
of action if negotiations fail.
The corporate job is a subtle game of value. The most
pathological belief is that money is the only value at stake.
This ignores, for instance, the value of identity:
“What is the cost of becoming the person you want to become?”
Spending years in a company means growing inside it and
being shaped to fit its walls.
Once I got the job, friends asked: “What do you do? How much are you making?”
No one asked: “At what cost?”
To most people, cost just means money. And money flows one way: from company to employee.
But we’re talking about value, and money is only a part of it.
In a company like this, the cost is the death of ambition. Why would an intern, hired after
months of job
searching, even consider leaving?
They convince themselves this is as good as it gets, and settle.
Week after week, they start hoping they can stay forever. Maybe climb the
ladder.
Their BATNA? Staying on even worse terms than the ones they have
now. In their defense: it’s also a cultural issue: in Italy the highest
aspiration is a permanent contract, entrepreneurship is treated like
gambling, and job hopping is frowned upon.
I almost fell for it too: the situation was tough, but that company
name would’ve looked shiny on a résumé. Still, when I assessed
the psychological cost, it was too high.
Given my background and financial situation, my BATNA was simple: quit, and find something
better.
I negotiated (always
negotiate!).
We couldn’t find alignment.
I walked away.
BATNA!
I lived that month like someone who had surrendered.
I dreamed of being reprimanded for messing up the report. I watched vanlife videos to
forget the frustration.
I tracked my supervisor’s football team to predict his mood.
Some people are happy doing this kind of job: my parents were, some interns are.
I can’t. And I blame myself, because things would be easier.
I know, I know: “Life is hard, and there’s no free lunch”
I have no illusion that things are simple outside the corporate world.
But says Murakami: “I can bear any pain as long as it has a meaning.” and manufacturing ⧫ isn’t
the meaning I’m looking for, nor is making my boss happy.
What I’m looking for is the
opportunity to be fabulous Working my own way, with the skills I
have, on something I care about.
Especially to be among people with whom I share aspirations.
if you don’t like politics, never work at a big company
— anu (@anuatluru) June 1, 2025
if you don’t like work, never work at a small company
Perhaps what I’m looking for is a job as an entrepreneur.
Perhaps it’s working in a startup or in a small team.
I don’t know yet.
I just don’t want to return a faded badge with the photo of a young man who wanted to change the world, but spent a lifetime producing ⧫.
Suggested in the sense that they "inspired" me in some way.
==Unused images generated for the post==