2024-10-19
Sitting in the restaurant reading Jane Eyre, sheltered from the outside rain, which has lasted for the entire day, and shows no sign of relenting (no, not a smidge of blue is permitted alongside the solemn grey of the firmament, and do not think the good Lord would for a moment allow the injustice of a regaining of fair weather later in the day), I, in reading Jane Elliot's attempt to put on a merry time (some chapter thirty and something), wrote as follows:
Why is the labour we perform cordially to our family at Christmas resonant in the bosom, yet that of a servant to his master not? Why is the joviality of conversation at one's employment considered lesser, yet is the sole satisfaction thereof? What, in short, is the nature of work, that restricts the primacy of the soul in the act, and which, for other matters, where the same act is performed, allows the heart to be resident?
Essentially, I want to ask this: I might fetch my family a drink at their request over Christmas, or at any other occasion, and feel none the worse for it; in fact, I feel good about the fact. Yet, if it were my employment, and I were to do it for many countless hours, then I would lose motivation or be dissatisfied with it. I think generally, all of us to an extent at least find our paid employment to be unhappy-making in some capacity: stressful, or boring, or inadequately remunerated, etc. Yet, there are certain things where we would never find this to be the case: labour for our family or loved ones may be grating at times, yet never ungratifying. It is willingly and freely given, and with a smile.
What is the condition of joyful labour?
Perhaps it is several: for instance, a certain degree of novelty, or at least non-similarity is required. Supply chains in which each one person is responsible for a single aspect are efficient but known to be demoralising. As a result, a certain degree of newness, or a learning of different aspects, is necessary. Perhaps this is just as we all need to learn.
The thing is, people can put up with a lot of non-newness: there is work involved, of course, and occasional periods of joylessness and difficulty, but the overall perception is that it is a greater, nobler effort. We keep to one husband or wife, instead to flitting between people, for this reason.
Perhaps also that it is good, or rather, is beneficial to another, or to be even clearer, to benefit one we love, or could love. We would gladly toil for a beloved partner, or a child; less so for a vindictive master.
Perhaps also a degree of autonomy in the action: I can be told to make somebody a cup of coffee and feel at ease that I can do it; I will ask them how they enjoy it (black, with milk, sugar or not) and happily serve them. If they were to come up and tell me: actually, please may you add milk, when they initially asked for black, I would happily add it. Yet, if they told me each step individually: that they actually need a quarter of a teaspoon of powder of coffee added initially, and then directed me to add a further quarter of a teaspoon each subsequent fourteen seconds after application of hot water, oh and that the kettle needs to be on for not the full time, oh and that I'm doing it wrong, oh and that... I'd just say, make it yourself then. If I'm not granted the freedom to do it in an individual way, I will give up on doing it altogether. Micromanage me enough, and it's easier to do it yourself.
What else? So far, I have established (a degree of) novelty, benefit to a lovable one, and autonomy as factors. I think also, that we are adequately remunerated. Now, there is not financial remuneration in me making a cup of coffee for someone; rather, I am remunerated in knowing that I curry their favour, and can rely on them to do the same for me another time, and so being able to establish a relationship of mutual codependence, where I help them for them helping me. The token of appreciation (thank you! cheers mate! that kind of thing) serves as a symbol of the appreciation; in not receiving it, I am not receiving remuneration in the form of their consideration and so feel my efforts are wasted, neglected.
There are four things. But, I think that generally, these are still a far cry away from actually understanding what determines enjoyment of work. Because these are almost like raw elements: knowing sodium and chlorine doesn't help identify salt. Also, because I have to work out whether a specific type of work has these elements, and even then, it's not like the list is complete.
Hmm. It's difficult. The thing is, we understand intuitively whether a particular type of work is painful or not. Really, a lot of them we don't call work. We don't really consider getting somebody a coffee as "work". It is - it is a form of labour, but we don't consider it that way. Allotment-goers don't consider the allotment as work. Gym-goers don't consider it as work. Women don't consider childbirth as work. It is all labour, but not work, not hassle: we enjoy it.
It seems strange that employment-work fails so badly in producing a system which allows for gratifying work. Of course, it does not have that as an incentive, as the only incentive is money. Abuse/poor treatment is better for productivity in the short regard, though leads to a hatred in the long term, hence the prevalence of people leaving their jobs only after a year or so. I suppose that is the best way to make money? Slavery was probably very good at making labour cost-efficient: well, we know it is, because we still employ slavery (just not in our country - we outsource it to China, Bangladesh etc.), so I guess employment-work always disregards the happiness of its employees. Shame. I wish there were some way around it.
Have a good one.