Work is Not a Four-Letter Word: A Manifesto for the Future of Work
- Roy Sharples
- Jun 15
- 3 min read
Updated: Jun 15
One day, it just… stopped.
No explosion. No Zoom all-hands.
Just a whimper from the server room
and a new line of code
that quietly tapped a junior analyst on the shoulder and said,
“I’ve got this. You’re free now. Go… grow a soul.”
And like that—
a job vanished.
Not a job with purpose or poetry,
but one built like a beige waiting room for ambition.
An Excel spreadsheet in human form.
A job so creatively vacant
you could’ve outsourced it to a sleepy goat
with mild typing skills and a caffeine allergy.
And honestly?
We barely noticed.
Because these weren’t roles etched in meaning.
They were time-card theatre.
Digital busywork in business-casual drag.
We are not witnessing a crisis.
We are witnessing a beautiful mutiny.
And guess what?
This isn’t new.
Every generation thinks it’s the first to be replaced.
Every machine shows up like a magician
and makes someone disappear.
When Gutenberg dropped the printing press,
monks with quills were out of work
faster than you can say "illuminated manuscript."
But in return, we got books.
Ideas. Literacy. Rebellion.
A world on fire with thought.
When the spinning jenny hit the textile trade,
weavers set factories on fire
and called it justice.
But the thread of history had already been pulled—
and it would not stop unraveling.
When Ford rolled out the assembly line,
craftsmanship became choreography.
People became parts.
And the world got cars, suburbs,
and the phrase “just-in-time delivery,”
which has never once applied to a pizza.
Now here we are again.
The robots are coming—
though frankly, they’re already here,
and they’ve taken your inbox.
But the truth is:
they didn’t steal anything.
They just walked in, looked around,
and said what no manager had the guts to:
“Why are humans still doing this?”
So here we are—
face to face with a glorious question:
What the hell is work actually for?
Not the survival stuff. Not the Wi-Fi and groceries.
The real stuff.
The deep, humming, slightly unhinged purpose
that makes you forget to eat lunch.
What if work
was no longer a series of tasks to be tolerated—
but a place to burn beautifully?
What if your job
wasn’t to climb a ladder,
but to set fire to the one that doesn’t go anywhere?
What if the next wave of “career progression”
required a compass, not a blueprint—
and demanded risk, vision, and one perfectly timed act of rebellion?
Let the machines have the predictable.
Let them finish our sentences.
Let them auto-fill the spreadsheets, summarize the minutes,
and schedule the meetings no one wanted in the first place.
We’ve got better things to do.
Like wonder.
Like contradict ourselves.
Like fail flamboyantly,
then wake up and try again with more glitter.
The intern is gone.
The goat is semi-retired and running a wellness blog.
The entry-level job has been lovingly euthanized
and buried beneath a mountain of unused Slide Master templates.
What’s left?
Us.
The deeply awake.
The irrepressibly curious.
The slightly feral humans who never fit inside an org chart
because they were too busy redesigning the whole damn galaxy.
So here’s the plan:
No more inbox-driven identity.
No more work that feels like a punishment
for having rent to pay.
Let’s write job descriptions that include:
Fluency in ambiguity
Love of joyful sabotage
Emotional intelligence so sharp it cuts glass
Ability to lead with laughter
And at least one weird obsession you’ve never apologized for
Let’s build roles that demand thought,
not templates.
Conversation, not compliance.
Questions, not credentials.
Because work is not a four-letter word.
It’s a wild, wonderful dare.
It’s how we say:
“I was here.
And I gave a damn.
And I made something weird and beautiful and real.”
The machines have taken the load.
Now we take the leap.
Let’s make it unforgettable.
Let’s make it sing.
Let’s make it so human,
they won’t dare automate it.
Read the Book. Stoke the Fire.
by Roy Sharples
How to make the invisible visible by lighting the way into the future.
Founder of Unknown Origins.
Champion of originality in an age of imitation.
Attitude. Imagination. Execution.
Unknown Origins Creative Studios All rights reserved © copyright 2025
