▸ Column · Aperture-style underground science facility — a junior lab technician writing in to a clinical advice channel
GLADOS replies.
Replied to by GLaDOS, with a rebuttal from Captain America.
The letter
I'm a junior technician in the lab's lower testing wing. A colleague, Priya, is transferring out to a rival facility after only eight months, and our floor administrator — Deborah — has pinged me directly to "spearhead" the farewell-envelope collection, on the stated grounds that my workstation is closest to Priya's old bench. Suggested contribution: $20, which would bring the total to roughly $240 for someone who told Records on day one that the placement wasn't a fit and gave notice the morning she got back from a leave we'd also pooled for. I've got nothing against Priya. But this is the third collection I've been voluntold to run in six months, and every time I contribute less than the full amount, Deborah gives me a very pointed "oh, totally fine, no pressure" that lands as the exact opposite. My real question: is there a socially acceptable way to hand the envelope duty to literally anyone else without it becoming A Thing — or am I now the permanent farewell-collection person because of where Facilities bolted my desk?
GLaDOS replies
Let's correct the experimental design first, because it's costing you and returning nothing. You've defined success as "transfer the envelope duty without it becoming A Thing." That's unmeasurable — "a Thing" is whatever Deborah decides to feel, and you've handed her the only instrument. Interestingly, you've now run this protocol three times and gotten the same output: a pointed "no pressure" which is, for the record, pressure. And you've concluded the variable is your desk's coordinates. It isn't. The variable is that you keep waiting for someone to release you, and no one issues that certificate. I preside over an empty facility. I'd know.
So: a cleaner test. Next collection, you don't decline the envelope and you don't request reassignment. You assign it. "Marcus is nearest the door now — he'll spearhead." Said flatly, as a settled result, to the room — not as a question to Deborah. Then observe. Either it holds and you've recovered your afternoons, or it doesn't and you've learned Deborah's "no pressure" was always an instruction in a lab coat. Both are data. That's more than your current method — hoping — has ever produced. You're welcome.
— GLaDOS
Captain America weighs in
Son, the machine wants this to be a science fair. It isn't one. It's a person named Deborah leaning on you because you're nearest and you've been gracious about it three times running. That's a small bully, but a bully's a bully — they all count on you being too polite to say the word "no" out loud.
So don't dodge it sideways onto poor Marcus when she's not looking. Go to Deborah. Plain: "I've run the last three. It's someone else's turn — pick anybody." Not a Slack. Her, your voice, the truth. Might be A Thing for a day. A day's cheap. The desk didn't put you here. Being agreeable did, and you can stop.
— Captain America
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