Velvet cushion

Just as everyone has a silver bullet, so too does everyone have, intended for them, a personalised, embroidered velvet cushion with a loaded revolver on it. It comes with a glass of scotch. Like a comet, deep in the black space beyond the edge of your solar system it moves, imperceptibly but inevitably, closer to you.

Office anthropology™ →Go uptown The JC puts on his pith-helmet, grabs his butterfly net and a rucksack full of marmalade sandwiches, and heads into the concrete jungleIndex: Click ᐅ to expand: Work anthropology Tell me more Sign up for our newsletter — or just get in touch: for ½ a weekly 🍺 you get to consult JC. Ask about it here.

So hush, little baby, don’t you cry —
You know your daddy’s bound to die
And all my trials, Lord,
Will soon be over.

—Mickey Newbury, An American Trilogy

For many this is a deep terror — it must be, seeing how many people doggedly remain employed in the financial services industry for many years longer than common sense would allow — but even the most fearful there is a tinge of relief, release, and hope: that there might be a better place, a better way, or even just that this

The worst case is when your silver bullet is the one who brings you the cushion.

Even so, go quietly.

See also

• Silver bullet
• survivor