When Harappan Commerce Met 2025's Slack-pocalypse

Shyam, the most respected terracotta pot dealer in the bustling city of Mohenjo-daro, believed he had business mastered. His workflow was a model of efficiency: a simple nod to a buyer sealed a deal, a quick carving on a clay seal served as a receipt, and his marketing was a bellowing voice from the public square. His ledger, a meticulous collection of pebbles in a bag, was a masterpiece of analog accounting. He was a man of action, of direct, face-to-face transactions and the simple, satisfying crunch of a well-made pot.

 

Then, the whirlpool happened. One moment, he was haggling over a shipment of polished beads; the next, he was standing in the middle of a sleek, glass-walled office in the year 2025. The air hummed with an invisible energy, and everyone around him was staring at glowing rectangles while making clicking sounds. A kind young man named Liam, who wore a strange fabric called a "hoodie," approached him.

 

"You look lost, man. Welcome to the Q3 planning session," Liam said, gesturing to a large, silent screen displaying a labyrinth of colorful boxes and lines. "This is our master 'spreadsheet.' It tracks all our KPIs and revenue projections. Just make sure to enter your sales data in cell G17 and your supply-chain anomalies in the 'Notes' column."

 

Shyam stared at the grid. His pebbles, which represented one pot each, were a much more elegant system. "This... this is how you count? With lines and blinking lights?" He reached out and tried to rearrange a box, but his finger just smudged the glass.

 

Next, Liam introduced him to Slack. "This is where we talk," he explained, pointing to a rapid-fire stream of text. "We have a channel for everything: #sales, #puns, #urgent-pot-requests..."

 

Shyam was bewildered. "Why are you all whispering to your clay tablets? My people and I communicate with a hearty shout! A shout is honest. A shout ensures everyone hears the bargain!" The concept of a silent, constantly updating conversation was a violation of all good business etiquette. He saw someone post a "meme" of a cat sitting in a pot, captioned "My feelings about this Q3 report." Shyam scratched his head. "The gods are communicating through felines now?"

 

The ultimate indignity came during the team video call. Liam handed him a smaller, glowing rectangle. "Just wave at the camera, and try to look engaged. Our clients from the 'Terra-Cotta-rific' account are on."

 

Shyam saw a disembodied head on the screen, frozen mid-blink. He saw another head with a small, glowing ring around it. "Is this a ritual?" he whispered. "Are the Gods of the Screen watching us?" He tried to explain the beauty of his latest spiral-patterned pot, but his voice was drowned out by a crackling sound from a tiny box on the desk. "You're on mute," Liam mouthed silently. Shyam, having no concept of "mute," simply yelled louder. "IS MY VOICE NOT SUFFICIENT?!"

 

After a harrowing hour of navigating digital calendars, trying to understand "branding," and being told his clay seal receipt was "not a valid digital signature," Shyam found himself back in the quiet, familiar Mohenjo-daro marketplace. The familiar smell of dust and sun-baked earth filled his lungs. He held his smooth, simple clay seal and sighed with relief.

 

He may have lost his mind for a brief moment in time, but he had found something far more valuable: a profound appreciation for the peace and sanity of a business world where a handshake was a contract, a spoken word was a promise, and a single well-placed pebble could tell a whole story.

 

About the Author: This article was written by Shyam, the esteemed terracotta potter from the Indus Valley, after his return from a brief, terrifying trip to the year 2025. He is currently accepting payment in beads, grains, and your undivided attention.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Want to contribute such interesting articles? Let’s talk -

 contact@upshotbrandmedia.com / 8962429492