Kafkaesque conditions in Sweden's diverse working world

There was one episode in my Swedish work adventure that I particularly remember. It involved a significant project I was managing, which, as is often the case in the adult world, didn't quite go according to plan. The story begins with a classic scenario: an impending deadline and a project progressing slowly.

I realized that we wouldn't meet the deadline. So I did what any sensible person would do: I tried to convince my superiors Thomasson and Olsson to inform operations management about the impending delay. More than three times on different days, I tried to persuade both gentlemen to tell the truth. Each time, I was fobbed off with a smile and a "we're still waiting" as if I were suggesting that we all go to the moon together.

The situation escalated unexpectedly and with an intensity that I would not have thought possible in the otherwise calm Swedish work culture. Operations management found out about the delay - not through the usual channels, Thomasson and Olsson, but through the harsh, indisputable reality of the missed deadline. And who was made the scapegoat? Me, the foreign project manager, of course. A reaction was not long in coming.

I received a few e-mails that were quite indignant by Swedish standards, the tone and content of which surprised and worried me in equal measure.

However, my subsequent calls to the managers involved only brought words of reassurance. They said they hadn't meant any harm but wanted to find out what had gone wrong, a typical Swedish appeasement. But behind these words, I sensed an underlying coldness.

The best (or worst?) part of the story was that Thomasson and Olsson, unbeknownst to me, had communicated a completely different (and, of course, false) completion time for the project to management. I stood there with my mouth open, unable to believe what I heard. It was as if I had landed in an episode of "Fawlty Towers," only without the British humor. This experience was just the beginning of a series of events that almost brought me to burnout. Ironically, it wasn't the workload that exhausted me but a series of experiences I had with Olsson and Thomasson.

I was proven wrong whenever I thought I had reached the height of absurdity. It was as if I had taken on a leading role in a surreal play where logic was on its head and the rules constantly changed. Communication with my Swedish colleagues was often like dancing around hot porridge, where direct answers and clear instructions were rarer than a sunny day in a Swedish winter. This was a constant drain on my energy and enthusiasm. It was a massive mental and emotional effort to navigate an environment that seemed so unpredictable and often irrational. Every day felt like I was tilting at windmills, caught in an endless cycle of confusion and frustration. The constant tension, the feeling of always having to be on my guard, and the ongoing conflicts left their mark.

A Saturday afternoon in the middle of this project would become indelibly etched in my memory. I was sitting alone in my office, surrounded by the silence of the weekend, interrupted only by the occasional whirring of my computer before I lay the urgent task of requesting additional staff for our project. This task would soon become a Kafkaesque nightmare.

The first phone call with the HR department was initially hopeful. I outlined my requirements, explained the urgency, and hoped for a quick and uncomplicated solution. But no sooner had I finished the conversation and felt a moment of relief than I received an email that changed everything. Suddenly, I was told that I was responsible for the decision.

Confusion spread through me, but I wanted to act decisively. I made a choice and shared it - firmly convinced I was doing the right thing.

But the world of the absurd had only just begun. Another ten minutes later, my phone rang again. A voice that sounded confused informed me that it was not me but a particular lady from HR who had to make the decision. A feeling of helplessness overcame me. Why was I given this responsibility at first, only to have it taken away from me again? But I gave in, leaned back, and waited for the lady's decision.

The next twist was not long in coming. An email arrived saying that, in this particular case, I would have to make the decision. My head started to hurt as I tried to follow this logic. So I made another decision, only to receive another email from the lady in HR shortly after, telling me her decision and expressing surprise that I had made this decision. It was like juggling in a circus of absurdities without ever feeling the ground beneath my feet.

I slumped down in my chair, my head buried in my hands. The tears I was struggling to hold back were now threatening to flow. I felt deeply demoralized, trapped in an endless cycle of decisions and counter-decisions that made no sense. It was as if I had crossed the border into reality and entered a world where the rules of logic and common sense no longer applied. At that moment, I was sure that I was in a nightmare from which there was no escape. Kafka sent his regards!

And so what was bound to happen after the project was completed: I fell ill. The symptoms of burnout began to manifest themselves.

At first, it was just tiredness and exhaustion, but soon, it was joined by insomnia, irritability, and an increasing indifference to my work. My former passion and commitment to the job faded, and I felt emotionally drained.

The physical effects were just as serious. I suffered from headaches, tension, and a constant feeling of exhaustion that didn't go away even after weekends or vacations. My ability to concentrate decreased, and I had difficulty focusing on my tasks. It was as if my body had had enough of the constant overload and was now forcing me to take a break.

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