Gummy Candy Eucharist

How some gummy candy gave me the strength to be more outspoken on LinkedIn.

There are new gummy candies on the market called ‘Shaq-A-Licious XL Gummies’.

Each gummy resembles Shaq’s head and is the size and shape of a medium sized beetle. The gummies are an assortment of three flavors, denoted by three distinct colors. Yet when one peers into the bag whose walls cast shadows that darken the bag’s interior, the pinks and reds appear identical, making the blues look vastly outnumbered. In this polyethylene world, the pink and red have allied themselves to marginalize the blue. A survival mechanism which assumes, since they stand out more, the gummy enjoyer will pick the blues first, ensuring the pinks and reds enjoy a greater lifespan. Since these gummies have come into my life, I’ve been more outspoken on LinkedIn.

The gelatinous berry bursts transmute as my small intestines absorb Shaq’s on-court lethality and off-court joviality. Fragments of his strength and dominance are now mine: I have taken the gummy candy Eucharist. Albert Camus wrote in his journals: “At times I would give anything in the world to no longer be connected by anything to this universe of men.” Perhaps he would’ve thought differently if he knew what I did.

My Shaquillian Eucharist coursing inside me, I head to LinkedIn. The social network for professionals to discuss work’s many facets: how work is going, how work is hurting them, how work is good, how work is hurting others, how work is bad, how work isn’t really work if you enjoy the work, how work is changing, how their work is the best work, how some are looking for work and cannot find it. Many of the posts I see on LinkedIn are troubling. Not in a way that fosters hatred or violence, but in a manner that prompts reflection on the missteps a person might have taken to believe such things–the same way you peer at the people reading “Dianetics” inside Scientology centers.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been laid off so many times, maybe it’s because work feels more like endless make believe, or maybe it’s because I’ve always held these feelings in my heart, but needed a silver-dollar-sized corn syrup supplement to feel empowered to speak.

All of this is to say I have been Shaq’d up: ready to face the dinguses and doofuses that pop into my LinkedIn feed like so many cross-eyed moles, asking to be whacked. Behold, a prime example:

Above, the leader of a company lays off 35 people and valorizes himself, somehow. Steeled by Shaq, I responded: “Sorry laying off 35 people was so difficult on you.” My comment, the post’s first non-affirmational response, received nearly 200 likes and several supportive replies. Cowed into silence, the post was eventually removed. In the parlance of Shaq, Slam dunk.

There are some questions we ask ourselves we never cease returning to. Mile markers of no discernible distance to remind us our thoughts often take us nowhere. Some are pleasurable, ‘What would I do if I won Powerball?’ Others hypothetical, ungradeable tests we give ourselves, ‘Would I put myself in danger to save people from a gunman, or a wayward semi-truck?’ Never having been in such a crucible, I test myself on the testable. ‘If I saw something stupid posted online by a person of power (in this case, the CEO of Robinhood), would I respond snarkily?’ I have passed. Once more in the parlance of Shaq, swish:

A Wall Street Journal poll from earlier this month found “the share of people who say they have a good chance of improving their standard of living fell to 25%, a record low in surveys dating to 1987.” Another 70% say “the American dream—that if you work hard, you will get ahead—no longer holds true or never did.” Labor force participation, presently at 62.3%, hasn’t been this low since the late 70’s, in the midst of America’s stagflation crisis. Some facts exist in different solar systems, never to glimpse each other, let alone know of the other’s existence, others feel like codependent lovers, unable to tear themselves apart despite logic imploring them otherwise. These facts are the latter.

What to do when so many workers feel left out, hopeless to the point of not rejoining the labor force? Will our leaders of commerce inspire us with expressions of solidarity and consideration? Instill in us visions of more prosperous futures where the fruits of labor are enjoyed more evenly? Judging by what I see on LinkedIn, no. Instead, humblebrags about their importance, exhortations on work, technology, and common goals, forces which move so many American workers yet take them nowhere. With them are those who affirm their thoughts through likes and comments, hoping one day, even though the country’s wealthiest 10% will always include just 10%, they’ll be in the club.

My gummy Eucharist gave me power. What sustains it is what makes any Eucharist worth taking part of: communion. Since taking my power to LinkedIn, I’ve received supportive post comments, LinkedIn messages, text messages, and emails sharing frustration with the state of work, frustration with the imbalance of power, and delight in the outright stupidity of the original posts. Any adherent can take the Eucharist, a communal expression of faith and solidarity.

The Shaq-A-Licious XL Gummies can be purchased at most Targets or Dollar Trees.