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Get me out of data hell

It is 9:59 AM in Melbourne, 9th October, 2024. Sunlight filters through my windows, illuminating swirling motes of dust across my living room.

At the small scale we operate at, with little loss of detail, a data warehouse platform simply means that we copy a bunch of text files from different systems into a single place every morning. I could sleep on it, but that would just be to give myself the illusion of responsibility even as I barrel towards wasting two more months to earn money that, thanks to five years of diligently navigating various Pain Zones, I don't even need. Also apparently my psychotic blog does not disqualify me from Financial Times affiliation, which is wild, but is maybe a useful lesson that the world is desperate for sincerity even when it isn't dressed up as corporate maturity.

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