Lean into your menial workhorse job with Panasonic's human blinders
Look, it's past time you stopped pretending.
Despite the painstakingly curated LinkedIn profile, Twitter bio worded just so, and daily effort to convince yourself otherwise, deep down you know the truth: Your job is a meaningless grind — it's only redeeming feature being the distraction it provides as you ceaselessly march yet another day closer to death. And oh boy is Panasonic totally here for that!
Say hello to Wear Space, a mule-like blinder system seemingly designed to fully complete your metamorphosis into company workhorse. How does it work, you ask? Well, according to the folks at Panasonic, it's simple: Wear Space limits your ability to observe the real world — like, say, your view through the office window of that beautiful magnolia tree whose spring buds offered the slightest tinge of hope that you too could one day be reborn into something beautiful.
Bury those dreams.
Focus on the spreadsheet in front of you.
"WEAR SPACE is a wearable device designed to aid concentration by limiting your senses of sight and hearing, via noise-canceling technology and a partition that controls your field of view," helpfully explains the product page.
Born out of Panasonic's design studio, Future Life Factory, Wear Space takes the guesswork out of wondering if your employer sees you as anything other than replaceable cog in its soul-crushing machine. Hint: it doesn't.
Panasonic debuted the head gear, which doubles as your own personal sadness sinkhole, at SXSW earlier this year. However, clearly sensing it had a hit on its hands, the "Panasonic group" Shiftall Co. launched a crowdfunding campaign to move this idea from the realm of complacent nightmare to defeated reality.
But that is not to say that Wear Space doesn't offer a vital service. It does, after all, act as a smartly designed signifier that you've given up any aspirations you once held. This alone will make anyone deflated enough to don the Wear Space an attractive potential hire.
So go ahead and plop down the roughly $258 needed to secure yourself an early bird prototype. It might just land you the job of the managerial class's dreams.
