Enough is said about social media. But not enough about its deep underwater rental price tag. I have no problem with concepts that out-rightly admit their landlordship. Or independent artists who are looking to get paid for doing what they love. Or even big companies who are upfront about their goal.
But I do have a problem with big companies who disguise what they’re doing. To have zero ceiling for pocketing money. By fooling those who don’t know any better.
Hays Galleria in London and Zuccotti Park in New York are privately-owned public spaces. This is OK in my books, given we’re only ever there hours at a time. And we aren’t necessarily lulled into a sense of full ownership. [Photography: JRennocks Studio, 2020. CC BY-SA 4.0]
Before I get into it, it’s probably worth mentioning that in my work as an architectural preservationist, I’ve been vastly involved in the built environment for some time. I’ve advised Fortune 500 restaurants and museums alike. And sadly, this means that I get to see the skeletons of fallen ships of what I call: Landlordship.
To show you what I mean, here are 7 ways to spot a hidden landlorship.
1
They use obscure nomenclatures
Like the word nomenclature itself.
Remember the 2008 Great Recession disaster bozo-bankers got us into? Making financialderivatives so complex-sounding that even they can’t really tell if the money’s going to JP-Morgan or Jay-P the Mouse.
In a nutshell, this is basically what that crash looked like. [Data: National Bureau of Economic Research, CC BY-SA 4.0, remixed]
So if your money guy says words—like delta, gamma, and vega—in one breath: just tell them, “I’m alpha. You’re omega. See ya.”
By the way, notice how some of the biggest companies today also have these obscure names.
Amazon: Beautiful when pure. But deadly when off-balance.
Meta: I don’t even really know what it’s like to be meta. I guess that’s the point.
Apple: I have an Apple phone. I own it. Oh wait,I don’t. They keep track of my moves. I guess that makes them my landlord. That explains its obscure simplicity. Which has nothing to do with the apple fruit itself.
Point is: lack of transparency has really gotten out of hand.
When companies make billions, they better be transparent about it.
What else have you noticed that are similar to these examples?
I’ve never been in an abusive relationship. My Sumatran uncles would probably come hounding at the door if this ever happens.
But my close friends have. And the best analogy of a jealous lover I could think of, is that of the sea. At first, things were peaceful. Beautiful, even. Fish sparkle under the sun. But the deeper you get, pressure builds. Blue turns to black. And water fills the lungs.
Tesla is one of these jealous lovers. The smell of landlordship usually accompanies one’s journey from underdog to top-dog. Tesla used to be a kind lover. Attentive to the environment.
But now: Who even asked for the cameras on the side of every car door? Some, perhaps. But most could go by without it. They don’t need like Tesla needs Sentry Mode. Mainly to hoard information.
People would say: “Butthe default is that it’s disabled.”
My Department of Defense friends would say: “Even when it’s off, it’s still spying.”
The default should be to say: “No-spy camera. people could opt in if they want to.”
And like all jealous-abusive lovers, they’re usually first victims of an abusive relationship, too. If you study Elon’s interviews, you could tell that the confused guy has some jealous-abusive lovers.
Investors, you see, is one of those obscure words.
3
They shower you with gifts. But never time.
I’ve sat down with landlords with so many commas and zeros in their bank account, you wonder why they’re still so cranky.
It always starts the same.
The front desk always has a partition-like low-wall in front of their computer. Probably to hide the fact that they’re the only one hustling. But all this is doing is just makes you feel like you’re in front of heaven’s gate. And God had sent Paul’s daughter to be the bouncer.
Then there’s that seating area with a comfy couch. With magazines. Crinkled, greasy, and sticky. Next to it: a bowl of mini-snickers from last year’s Halloween. These are the first gifts designed to candy us into the feeling of benevolence.
Then, after what felt like a good hour, the gatekeeper ushered us in. Would you like anything to drink? Sometimes it’s just water. But the really swanky ones … give you booze. And a spread that makes both my mouth and my eyes water.
I didn’t snap a picture of the spread. Didn’t want to look too giddy. But it’s not too unlike this one. The wine collection off the side, was also ridiculous. [Photography: Angel Ayala Studios]
I mean, what on earth is going on!? Have I died and happened upon Olympus or something?
But after what feels like a meeting with the man, you’d soon realize that the business card they gave you is useless. Because they don’t do emails. And the phone number just forwards to that poor gatekeeper girl. I guess these guys are just like Father Christmas.
They aren’t for real. And the gifts are just for show.
I’m seeing this behavior consistently in platforms. Their original intent is always: “build on their own land.” I’m sorry, but owning land and owning an audience are two different things.
Firstly, an audience shouldn’t be owned. They should be earned.
Secondly, land allows cultivation freedom. Down to the very last grain of dirt. Often times, platforms have features that make me want to hurl my phone on the wall. Nice-to-haves (but not must-haves) like that old Halloween candy. Live features, anyone?
Landlordship is upon us.
The worse part of it? It’s now in our pockets. Every minute.
Which leads us to the next four killer-whales of landlordship:
