Steve Salaita writes about how so many useless people got good academic jobs. Their uselessness was the attraction all along.
Excerpt:
You know the type. Drenched in white-collar affectations. Never skips a social event. Enamored of minor accomplishments. Considers fastidiousness a form of rebellion. Eggheaded, but in an arrogant rather than endearing way. Talks a lot while saying nothing at all.
This person is likely a professor at a prestigious university.
If you were ever a graduate student with an eye toward a career in academe, you’ve wondered dozens of times: how did that motherfucker get such a good job?
For you think to yourself: the motherfucker is useless. He never says anything incisive. He’s addicted to jargon. He’s robotic and boring. He has a gift for making radical ideas sound painfully conventional.
If you took the time to think about the curious situation, or saw the curious situation play out often enough, then it finally occurred to you: that’s exactly why he got the job.
It’s important to remember that your definition of useless isn’t the same as management’s definition. Your understanding of usefulness is likely based on some notion of a common good; the common good is exactly what management considers useless. Maintaining a dullness of spirit and purpose is one of the most esteemed responsibilities on campus. Traversing commonplaces is an altogether unwelcome form of productivity.
Intrigued? Read the full article.
Evocatively Ambiguous 