Databoss of Databeasts

I was the Databoss of Databeasts. We stuffed an online database with journalists. The job was done on the rhythm of the shortcuts.

Ctrl c, alt tab, ctrl v, alt tab.
ctrl c, alt tab, ctrl v, alt tab,
ctrl c, alt tab, ctrl v, alt tab.
ctrl c, alt tab, ctrl v, alt tab.

It was a noble job. We were building a better, faster, friendlier world. Everybody wins. There was even a Foosball table which nobody touched until it was Friday afternoon. 

During lunch people talked. They talked about TV shows.

After work I would go home. Worked out. Ate. Went to bed. And again.

This was not the life that I had imagined when I, as a rebellious fifteen year old punker, graffitied ‘fuck the system’ on the school wall. I always told my friends and family that I would be dead before I reached the noble age of thirty. If I didn’t die, I would move in with a jungle tribe in Africa. ‘Sounds like a great plan, son.’ my father said from behind a game of solitaire. Ten years later I was copypasting journalists into a database. Look at me rebelling against the system.

Maybe I had to leave for a bit. Just to straighten my mind. Find myself and all that. I hoovered over Google Maps for some inspiration. Suddenly I felt a dangerous sympathy for Genghis Khan and Alexander The Great. Such a big place I didn’t know anything about and it was all theirs before they were even thirty.

I was twenty seven and didn’t even know what the capital of Georgia was or the main dish of Armenia. If Kamchatka was a real country or just a territory on Risk. I couldn’t name which countries were between The Netherlands and China, let alone that they were more or less connected by an ancient trading route called the Silk Route.

Since I was the databoss of databeasts I did know that the magazines Dolls and Puppets had merged into one magazine Dolls & Puppets. I knew that Henriette Faber was now editor in chief for the Fish and Fry Magazine, which is bringing Fish and Chips together since 1913. I knew that White Fish Total is the right magazine for sport fishing, where sport fishers share their secrets and let no subject be unspoken. Name me one trade magazine and I knew the editor in chief, by name.

If there was a moment in my life to say fuck the system and blow some meaning in my life it was now. I bought a plane ticket to Istanbul. I would travel like a real Marco Polo. Dance with tribes, ride horses on the steppe, drink coffee with world leaders. Those things. I couldn’t wait to find meaning and purpose and myself and everything a person dreams of.

I thought it would take me 6 months to figure out. That was 30 months ago.


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