If every job function were assigned a measure of value and all positions involving various job functions were given calculated measures of their collective value, we might be able to classify all employment job functions according to their relative importance. For example, we could determine how vegetable harvesters compare in value and importance to grocery store cashiers. And how trash collection crew members compare to personal injury lawyers. And how chemists compare to sculptors. And so on. But an objective process (to the extent possible) to measure values would no doubt lead to arguments, hurt feelings, pleasant surprises, and rage. Assume, for example, the relative importance/value of a cannery worker is found to be greater than that of a plastic surgeon, not accounting for the demand for each position. The surgeon might be enraged, embarrassed, and argumentative; the cannery worker might be thrilled, proud, and assertive. A job analysis project across every position in a culture could change the dynamics of the workplace and of society at large. If grocery store cashiers were found to be less valuable than migrant farm workers, the cashiers might find their salaries slashed, while the farm workers might see their compensation enhanced significantly. The importance of candy makers might be devalued, while beef feed lot workers could be determined to have substantially greater value. Decisions would have to be reached with respect to people who create or manufacture products versus those who market and sell products…that process might be intriguing and dynamic. With proper weighting of the value of every aspect of a job function, the collective “scores” might turn the workplace and every place that engages with it upside down. During the evaluation process to determine the relative rank of importance of all jobs, psychological counseling would skyrocket in value, I believe.
+++
Staring into the clear, dark night sky from a remote spot—someplace far from evidence of civilization—is a breathtaking experience. It is an encounter with the unknown, stunning in its unlimited vastness and terrifying in the realization that it is unknowable. Distances in the night sky are incalculable. The tiny stars we see, we are told, may be—or may have been—thousands of times larger than our sun. Their light may have taken hundreds or thousands of years to reach us; more than enough time for the stars to have shriveled into empty nothingness.
The same sense of awe accompanies us when we stand at the edge of an ocean. Distances across the waves are more understandable than the space between the stars but, like the sky, the secrets of almost impossibly deep water are beyond our understanding. Neither deep space nor deep water permit us to breathe without relying on clunky apparatus, as if warning us not to venture too far into the unknown. Yet our curiosity about worlds beyond readily accessible boundaries keeps pushing us to move deeper into the stunning and terrifying unexplored. Perhaps the most frightful aspect of exploration into the unknown and unknowable is its inherent loneliness. We are compelled to pursue human companionship, but it distracts us from giving sufficient focus to absorbing and trying to understand secrets beyond our realm of comfort. And so we must go it alone; we must make difficult choices.
+++
This week, next week, the following week, and the week after that…I am obligated to visit Houston for a day at a time for all of them. And for each day, around 17 additional hours will be spent in making the round-trip to and from Houston. This week will be the official “screening” process (though I’ve already signed the consent form and been “accepted”). This first full month of involvement in a clinical trial increasingly sounds overwhelming. That’s life in the real world, I suppose; waging peace.
