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I love old movies. I love new movies. I even read subtitles, because I love foreign movies. And don’t even get me started on the movie musicals of the last century. I could have sex with Eleanor Powell. Sometimes a movie I have seen so many times takes on new meaning as I watch the background actors or sets to see if I have seen them in anything else. One of my guilty pleasures is campy, horrible sci-fi. Put a man in a large rubber suit (hmm…..dirty side thought) with a tail destroying Tokyo and I have the popcorn, crumbling down my chest.
So this morning while doing my pre-go-to-work-email-internet thing, HG Wells, War of the Worlds with Gene Berry, is on, in the corner of my eye. For its day probably a really good technical movie and special effects……but that isn’t what made me laugh.
Set scene…
It was a dark and stormy night, as Snoopy would say. The City of Los Angeles is being overrun and destroyed by Martian invaders. Fires, explosions and fear……
Pan shot, of men on the brink….looting to save their lives.. as any semblance of order , gone from society.
So what do I think when I see the scene with looters…..running amuck in downtown? The dramatic shot shows men, in suits,hats and ties, running from a fabric store, with bolts of fabric….how GAY is that for Hollywood! Gay men at the end of the world will still want to be dressed in the latest fashion. At the end of the world, that certainly would be my first thing to loot, fabric. Sure I could make a plaid tent out of it, if all the buildings were burned up. I am sure without electric sewing machines, the Toga would come back in vogue. They leave the man offering money, scattered all over the ground, for silk and taffeta. This movie had its priorities, straight, so to speak…..
At the end of the world, be colorful, or at least well dressed.
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Christmas is over. SAY WHAT?.... That’s right, Christmas is over. In the retail world, it is just a matter of sweeping up the leftovers and waiting for the New Year.
I have been dealing with HO HO, since the last week in July, when my first Christmas truck arrived. Tomorrows truck is mostly my regular stuff, with a smattering purging of leftovers. It is fun to watch the micro managed cubes at corporate, as they fret over the weirdest items. We had weeks in late summer/fall where the daily diatribe of emails focused on Duct Tape as the savior of Summer. Today’s conference call, was all about our sell through position, discount margins and ……zzzz….zzzzz….zzzzz….Oh wake me up. My store is doing well and overall I think my company positioned itself well, keeping lower inventory on higher ticket items ….with a over the edge, piles of cheap crap. Hmmm….can someone say WALMART MENTALITY…that is where our current president comes from. He has not been a welcomed with open arms kind of guy and his direction for the company is the exact opposite of our last president who tried to move us out of the schlock gutter into a more complete experience store. Well, presidents come and go, the next one can’t do much worse. It is probable that at some point in the next year the company will go public again, and our holding company will make their fortune and move on. That means of course a new direction from new people and board….bla bla blab la…..looking forward to the New Year.
Much of what happened this season of course was charted a year ago. The word of the year was “Branding” or the reality of just putting our Name on the same old stuff. The ability of these large companies to be “in the moment” usually fails, just behind the original peak. Take Michael Jackson for instance, we got posters, we had to frame magazine covers, all that stuff is still around and someone at corporate is going "OOPS", because most of it arrived weeks late. My favorite saying at work is “There is a buyer with a free hooker in Taiwan, for this crap”
Christmas is over, after just a few more weeks of 12 hour days, bargain hunters, and the five finger sales. Everyone seems to think this is the tough times, HELL NO. It takes five months to amp up to this, but it all comes freaking down in two weeks. The pre breakdown has already started with the mass movement of stock to formerly Red, Green and Gold aisles as all that stuff gets funneled towards the door. Come the second or third week in January and the only vestige of Christmas will be the glitter that won’t get fully cleaned up…..ever. Some things might get packed away, most will just be tossed in the garbage. There is something very satisfying about taking a hammer to a box of ornaments, pop, pop, pop.
So to satisfy my sanity , I have come up with the perfect answer to Christmas. First I have been heard to yell OINK in the store when a particular ass has left some giant mess, because they were too lazy to put back, what they didn’t want. Finding empty packages or open trashed containers, just reminds me how low people will go to be jolly. “Here, open this, mom”. “I stole this just for you”. ”. My favorites are the ones who return holiday decorations, after the fact, saying they didn’t use them, and the staples are still visible. Boy are they in for a surprise, this year.
On the flip side of all this Jolly Ho Ho’ness, there are the customers who genuinely like the season. They bring their smile and patience and they more than make up for the woman who wants an extra discount, but doesn’t have a coupon (don’t get me started on coupons) and feels slighted because I won’t just GIVE IT TOO HER. …Boo Hoo, Pobrecito, Que Mal, Que Triste…..buy a GD paper like everyone else or go on line a print out a free one. NEXT! Oh, did I say I don’t suffer fools very well, and while were at it, junkies tweaking their creative side.
My answer to Christmas.
While it has within it, a great concept of tradition, family and soul, I don’t think enough time elapses between celebrations anymore. In this ultra wired world and everything an INSTANT NOW kind of life, We are always in some kind of season. When do we get to rest? You know, just take a breath, not worry about Champagne Sparklers, Red Hearts, Green Clovers, Bonnets for the parade, Uncle Sam banners, Back to School musts and Boo-tackular items and the 12 months of Christmas, it has almost become. Stop the celebrations, I want to sleep in for a month or at least get two days off in a row.
Christmas has become circular, Pre sale, Sale, Discount, and Clearance and all that takes place in about nine months. The other three months, are the planning and intimate discussion of the event, leading up to the eventual groan in July when something with glitter on it arrives. So my proposal is to treat Christmas more like the Olympics. It takes four years to gear up to a spectacular sporting event, that lasts two weeks and its over. Imagine Christmas every four years, just how much fun would it be then! It would become special again, with meaning and juvenile lust. There would be some reason to have it. People would have time to adjust, save and prepare. Even Santa could take a few days off then. What would be lost in the years not celebrated? We barely even think about the reason we celebrate now, except at midnight mass that we go too so we don’t have to worry about Church getting in the way of packages and bows.
So, do you think the UN could take up a resolution?
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One day off……
The sound a cat makes walking around in its life, is unmistakable. There is the YOU’RE HOME meow and dance, the Hunger meow, I’m lost meow and my favorite that woke me up this morning….the hack hack hack sound. The best part of the hack hack hack sound came shortly afterward when my little guy jumped up on the bed just full of excitement and announced with a kiss on the stach, "Daddy" "Daddy" I just hacked a fur ball and I feel so much better………EW, EW, EW and its only 5:15 in the morning. After a short congratulation I pulled down my sleepy eyes and rolled over and forgot the whole incident. …..tick tock tick tock…….morning comfort break about an hour later, the previous awakening forgotten until….that’s right, I stepped into a wet mass of grey fur. …EW EW EW……
All I wanted to do today was sleep until my own stomach told me to get up. Junior like a snooze button, kept checking on me just in case I wanted to get up and feed him. Black out curtains didn’t open until 11:30 and persistence by a feline made it impossible to stay snuggled up.
The last couple of weeks have been long and tiring. Retail is many things but forgiving and caring it is not, schedules to keep and seasons to herald. It wasn’t even the last week of July and the first HO HO HELL arrived. Now it is has splashed and only more to arrive every week.
Once a year there is a corporate week where Texas sends out its minions of people to become one with the stores, you know, see how the little people are working. How are the cracks in their backs, from being trod upon all year by demands of people who only see the bottom line.
This year the word of the day is URGENT. Not a day goes by when some email from corporate hasn’t in the title something extruding urgency. For two weeks alone it was all about Duct Tape as if the world would collapse if we didn’t channel duct tape to the population of the country as the savior of life.
I have two lines that constantly go through my head at work, The first one is usually about something that arrives in the store…..I look at it…and proclaim…..there is a buyer in Taiwan with a free hooker for this product. I can’t tell you how many times I use that one. Close but not a regular saying is something about the quality control in the “four year old” slave shop, when something is poorly made……
All this urgent mail from Texas now has me saying, when I get to work ….Who Sneezed? Someone in Texas sneezes and a thousand people run to get a tissue. Micro managing popsicle sticks is becoming tiresome. There is a new sneeze, everyday….but sometimes even the top sneezes too hard. Shown the door this week was our President, after just over a year. The sneeze was “we appreciate all her hard work”…..now remove, before the end of business today, any and all media pertaining to her. Remove any reference, literature, with her name on it and don’t forget to remove her pictures from any advertisements. …..that sounded more like a bloody nose than a sneeze. ….
To make matters worse the store has had some set backs in personnel. My major source of laughter at work, bulged a disc, when she tried to be Mighty Mouse and catch a several hundred pound grid as it collapsed, when she tried to move it. Two months without her and I am not as happy as I should be. The biggest blow was my boss and friends husband, died this week after a brief but painful bout with cancer. She hasn’t been in the store for almost 5 weeks and so the burden has fallen on us to hold up the store. So with green temporary department managers and only three of us with keys, work has been long. I am happy to say that the old man here is still capable of showing the whippersnappers a thing or two about effort, but my feet need replacing.
After two weeks of double digit hour days, death has been buried and corporate has visited. This visit sets the tone for how the office sees us……..are they ready….are they following the plan….will they be an asset to the season, or do we need to make some changes now. It is a one shot impression that carries a lot of weight. We passed every category with the highest of marks and received praise from not only the corp-ass guy, but our district manager who NEVER says anything positive. His approval was almost bonus enough but I will take the money.
Now remember….Hack hack hack…..all I wanted to do was sleep in today and almost did. I did get up, feed the beast, coffee the grump and watched a terrific tennis match, while I did my laundry and I turned down a dinner date, just because I didn’t want to get dressed……..
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Blog inspired by…
This is what I thought of when I saw Jean Kennedy Smith as she saw her last sibling pull out of the family home for the last time. What a history there, that was once shared, but never more, ghosts in every shadow. To be the last of an age, to see all go before you. Sure, she is surrounded by a clan so large there will be many distractions for her, but in her private thoughts, she is alone.
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Siblings, is a full and descriptive word. I personally have five of them. I know no other dynamic in my life, than with them. Each is and exhibits a distinct personality.
The oldest and only girl is my “sisterarch” of the clan. The story goes that my paternal grandmother told my mother the first one had to be a girl and after that she didn’t care what or how many. She being the only girl, set her apart from all the rest. Her demeanor most of the time protected her, but she never had any trouble beating the crap out of us. As we all got older, the gang mentality and sheer overwhelming numbers to torment her, never worked, she always won.
I have two older brothers and two younger. The older two are buddies, thick and thin to the end. As youths, ones example of mischief was simply the learning curve for the other. As they got older however, their personalities took different roads. My oldest brother is a mellow, surfer, imbibing smoker, and extremely talented woodworker. Lanky and thin, tall and “cool” looking, fed by his vegan wife, living the retired life on the bluffs over Puget Sound half the year and New Zealand the other half. Yes, I think the fact that he can see whales from his windows, is a major part of the attraction, he hates it though, she loves it. Just way too much maintenance than he wanted at this point in his life. A beautiful home they planned and envisioned for years and the luster was soon gone on him, his wife, she just isn’t going to give in.
The next brother, well, lets just say his sourness is the result of two wives, over work and the wrong side of hoarding. At any event, wedding or funeral, he is more likely to have on his muck boots than shoes that take a polish. Put him in a suit and he looks like a bad advertisement for any overweight men’s shop. His vices are the traditional family ones, only “his” are under control, unlike others. He always had a mean spirit about him and with age it has only festered into something ugly and finite. He like my sister is the only one to have produced offspring. Most of his kids are great, but obviously some of the demons he is prone too, followed the gene pool. Out come yet to be determined.
I was the next redhead in the line, only I was very different. I didn’t fit in anywhere in the succession as far as anyone saw. I was broken at birth, with so many physical problems, I wasn’t “play-able”. I just wasn’t cut from the same cloth and therefore not as important. I spent my early life learning to live under the radar and when I didn’t, paid for it with hurt. My chief tormentor was my father who set his example into all my other siblings as acceptable. I so tired of hearing the words, “Why can’t you be more like your brothers?”
On my first day of high school, first class, I was confronted by the phys- ed teacher with almost the opposite phrase, when he stopped asked my name and quickly retorted that if I was anything like my brothers he and I were going to have a problem, and he was serious. (yes! Great first hour, and I didn’t pee my pants.)
My sister was bookish, and so am I. In my youth I could read to the ends of the sunlight everyday. She and I had similar hobbies and artistic visions. My sister was always kind too me for the most part, but we were never close as children, like we are now.
The next two, were playable for the most part. The first after me, is and was the golden child of my father. Obvious and unashamed my father indulged, coddled and saw in this one, himself, I think. Smart, physical, he was groomed for all the accolades. Unfortunately he had other plans for himself, that didn’t include any enhancement in life. This one never learned to be self-sufficient and lives on the edge of life, drama and demon rum. Kind hearted but with thieving intuition. He is the ghost of Great Uncle Henry.
The last of the catholic litter is probably the most successful. This is the one that worshiped my father, to this day, I don’t know why. My father tortured him as a youth, more so than me. It may all boil down to likes and dislikes for these two, as they are similar in father and son. With one great exception, my brother is kind, to others and animals, my father was not, in his bigotry and coarseness.
My father was an only child, by parents choice I think. My grandmother grew up with a hard life, raised by a single mother in the wilds of Montana, with a huge brood to tend after her husband died. Kerosene and pump water and separate “facilities” outside the house. It was a very hard early life, something she rarely talked about. If anyone has seen the movie “A River Runs Through It” Jessie, Normans wife, was the rich side of the family and my grandmothers first cousin. They often supported my grandmother and siblings during the hard times. My father as a little boy would spend the summers in Wolf Creek, along those same rivers. The importance of family being the lesson here, lost on my father. My grandmother was close to all of her many brothers and sisters. I remember the day I had to call her baby sister and tell her of the passing of her nephew, she outlived so many in her hundred years.
My grandfather on the other hand, had a brother, who if I am not mistaken is very similar to one of my little brothers. A rascal, thief, rapist and jail bird, Uncle Henry had a colorful life. The last time anyone saw him was my grandmother when she caught him rifling through some drawers and she bean’d him with a frying pan, like out of an old movie. He stole from my grandfather, played on his public persona for blackmail. There was no love lost on that sibling. His name was verboten in front of my grandparents. I think ONLY child, for my father, suited them, because of their backgrounds.
My mother was the youngest of three girls, raised by her Catholic Grandparents, their father, having abandoned them, after the post abortion death, of their mother, children, crimping his style. Close as children, but only friendly, as young adults, the sibling rivalry never far outside the family boundaries. . My father never quite understood the whole sibling thing and detested any involvement in my mother’s family. He made no pretense in liking any of them and always enjoyed it when my mother and her sisters fought, he would see less of them. I wouldn’t be surprise to learn that he was an instigator of the troubles between them at times. My mother and her sisters as they aged, became better friends. I guess after all the history they had together, putting aside the petty squabbles of youth, was easier. It was interesting though to see the three points of view of growing up as they did. It reinforces the view of independent life and perception.
All of that changed for my mother, when her middle sister, the mediator of the trio, became ill and eventually became the first to pass. Her sibling, her sister, was gone and it was evident that some regret was had. The other two became much closer after that loss, fostered in part by children who suddenly wanted history to write. Getting them together and just asking them questions about youth and memories, sparked a twinkling in them. My mother was the next to go and having to see my elder aunt deal with it was extremely difficult. The oldest, yet the last to go, saw births to death on these two, a siblings loss.
In my own life now, I am perhaps the only sibling that has somewhat of a constant dialogue with my others. The electronic age has made that much easier of course and the preferred method. When one wants to know about another, I am the one they contact first. At this point in my life the varnish is off. The glossing over of events to protect egos, is gone. I grew up with tarnished secrets and the truth is so much easier to write. We all are still concerned about each other, but the need to intervene is over. One chooses the path they walk and therefore assumes the consequences. Siblings have a dynamic that is only between themselves. Thoughts and words are easier to say, cutting both ways, no bullshit sometimes, things a parent might overlook. In my generation there has been no death yet, either within my group or that of my many cousins. Someone has to be first, and someone has to be last. What a tough sequence to ponder.
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Going home to the beach has been a long time coming. I hadn’t been back all the way, in well over a year, since another wedding. What I didn’t realize was that I was just swapping one set of dramas for another. I expected the drive to be heavy with all the heat prostrated city dwellers, but I lucked out in the timing. My nephew who works for a hotel chain, had forgotten to book me a room, so initially I was going to stay with my brother, if other lodgings couldn’t be found. I left early in the hopes of finding some place, within walking distance of the sand. The drive over was full of memories and loss. The last couple of winters has been very hard on the mountains. Acres of prime forest were damaged by high winds, all of which has been logged and cleared, to reap some value in the timber. Previous lush areas were now piles of dead debris and dregs of logging, just waiting to be burned. My cathedral of trees I use to call it, was now filtered with sun light, with so many tops and branches lost to the storms. It was really quite sad to see, but equally interesting to see how quickly the undergrowth had bloomed. As I hit the summit, I rolled down the windows and the sea breeze was as expected strong. The salt cool air seemed pungent but welcoming at the same time. I enjoyed the pace of this drive more so than I had for many years. When I lived at the beach the mountain crossing was always for reason and not for pleasure. About two thirds of the way, I pulled into the driveway of my niece, having called her and found out she would be home. An “old” married woman now with two darling boys, I knew this would be the best quality time outside the wedding chaos to talk. Supping iced drinks on the banks of the creek watching the older of the two, four wheel’n on his battery operated quad, made me smile.  His younger, very well fed brother slept the visit away. This daughter of my brother, is a wonderful kid and loves family. She welcomes me with grace and tolerance of the old uncle. She is not the ‘favored” one, with my sister in law, so finds her relationship with her father always strained. A while back I scored points with her when I sent home with her brother a Victorian chair that had been her Great Grandmothers. It closely matched a chair that she got in her marriage from her husbands grandmother. With a promise to pay for the reupholstering I think she treasures the gift, more than any of the other kids would. Her brothers wife I understand was upset I hadn’t given them the chair….OH WELL…..all they have to do is give me a “boy” to carry on the last name and I have a grateful gift for them. The visit with my niece had more agenda with it. I knew I would get from her the latest and unfiltered musings of the family. Its odd to me, that all of my siblings and I see the progeny of my brother with high regard, while they are relegated to second banana by my brother and his second wife. It is so obvious that the family with the second wife comes before the family with the first. These kids are great, but my brother holds them somehow responsible for the hurt with his first wife. He may not see it, but the rest of us do. We all make a point of including them with any family plans that we can. These kids are solid, stable and yet are not as good as the stoners, thieves or alcoholics. ….ahh family dynamics, I love it. This short visit and not helping with the wedding put me in the dog house with my sister in law for the weekend…another OH WELL. I left my nieces house with plenty of new information that would help me navigate the wedding weekend. I knew who was “in” and who was “out” and what to expect. It was absolutely critical now that I needed to find a room, on this hot weekend without a reservation. I would do that first before making any appearance at my brothers. I was successful, not the best I wanted, but I know the town and where the little places hide. Just a couple of blocks from the beach and a right downtown, I could park and not have to get into the traffic chaos. My chilly reception started right away when I politely refused to dine and decorate for the next days nuptials. All I wanted to do was to take my white shorted legs, my huge eccentric old man hat and walk along the cool Pacific edge, which is exactly what I did. I could tell from my brother that his wife had him completely by the short hairs for this wedding and the stress of it was in his voice. I gathered from my niece earlier that the preparations for this wedding were fraught with money demands, woes and a bridezilla, but my sister-in-laws only boy was getting married and nothing was going to get in the way. I could tell my brother had had it with the plans and was going through the motions to satisfy his wife. Pay up and shut up was the look on his face. Somehow a walk on the beach was preferable to joining that clique. The hotel room was my sanctuary from the weekend. The morning of the wedding I got up early, ate at a local pancake house got in the car and drove around the county, out to the mouth of the Columbia to the North, the Cove to the South, and a few detours along the way. I saw the new library, new bridges, lots of homes for sale and new empty buildings, waiting for better times. Hard times have hit the coast and it is obvious. It was a nice quiet remembrance for the most part. My little cottage I so carefully maintained, was over grown with an un-clipped hedge and the fence was bolstered by props to hold it up. The paint that I usually did every two years was no longer fresh, the salt windy air having taken its revenge. Beach houses require extra maintenance and all that work I had put into this house was for naught. The roses I had left behind were over grown and the ground cover around them, just weeds. Okay, so here is my question. Money better spent? These two kids getting married, don’t have a pot to piss in. They have a one year old child, live on property owned by my brother, fail to pay rent most months and yet are spending money or having money spent in great amounts to marry each other. The wedding itself was planned for a summer weekend on the beach in a tourist town, south. A town I might say that has limited parking purposely, to keep the amount of patronage down to a dull roar. You invite 200 people to a mid afternoon wedding and then wonder why most don’t show up, when traffic on the highway is backed up for miles. It was suggested that you arrive two hours early, just so you could find a place to park. It was insane. Tuxes and attendants in lavender and white, under a garden trellis surrounded by thousands of half naked people……(okay…so there was an UPSIDE to my nipple fetish), kites and screaming children. The wind was blowing, the sun was hot and no one could hear the vows. My brother leaned over and asked me what was going on and I told him we knew it would be over when he kissed her. After the ceremony we lucky few that had a chair, hauled it and whatever else needed to be removed from the beach up a single file set of narrow steps, now crowed with people watching the spectacle on the sand. Just what is it about a wedding that makes sane people go insane? The money, the planning, sure you want something special but if it means paying for years for one day of drunkenness….I DON’T SEE THE POINT! When I finally got my car out of parking hell it took almost an half and hour just to get six blocks, out of town. When I got to the reception area, it was just as beautiful and could easily have held the wedding, with plenty of parking…but I guess I annoyed my sister-in-law for suggesting this would have been a tad more pleasant and convenient …but there was something about the “sands of time” my nephew and his bride wanted. Not even half of the invited quests showed up. Most were locals, but the traffic alone would have kept most in their homes. So tons of food, beer and pop was ordered, with not so many to eat, drink and get drunk on. Needless to say the kids did drink, even those that shouldn’t have. The babies had this beautiful lawn, with open forest, to play in, under and around. A flowing creek for better background noise than the Ponzi, FBI investigation -turned-DJ-husband of niece, was creating. While my youngest niece so intoxicated, her parents turning a blind eye to her destructive behavior. I know that weddings bring out “something” in people. This one was stressed. The two families did not interact except to see who could hold the baby longer. All this money was spent, and no one seemed to be having a good time. There was lots of complaining about the how, the why and the when food might be served. The two celebrants of the day were clueless of what was going on around them, and I guess that it might have been that funny smoke they had inhaled. While most people snuck off without as much as a goodbye, the little crowd got thinner and thinner. All the empty seats were a testament to the couple and poor choices of timing. Not all was lost on this day too me. My nephew who I had tutored for many years along with others, were at this event. Strange how after seeing some of these young people after so many years, the snap shot of their life comes into focus. Most of these “kids” now have kids of their own. The tiny versions of themselves at ages I once knew them. Hairlines have receded and pounds added but most are self sufficient with progressing lives. Truly a circle of life moment for me and this was the magic of the day. Maybe not all were where they wanted to be or expected to be, but most seemed happy. Some of the news I heard was not great, especially about my own family. Demons do run in generations I guess and breaking the cycle is more difficult than ignoring the problem. Small town life is hard to escape and those that seem to have succeeded the most, came from a distance. Even my niece in a poignant moment in our conversation along the creek, mentioned, she hoped her boys would move out of these woods into better professional lives. I didn’t tell her that that was the wish I once had for her and her brother. I did take note of the lilt of “what if” in her voice maybe about her own life and hinted at some regret already, at such a young age. It may be a while before I return to the beach, this trip having taken its family toll on me. The beach itself, just a tad more shabby, not so well taken care of and the cracks of life allowing the weeds to grow.
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Contrary to all the “blankness” on my blog, I have not fallen off the planet, changed blogging venues or given up on writing. The last time I posted it was snowing and I was tired of white and winter, now just the opposite is true. The Pacific Northwest has been socked in with extreme heat, that melts both old people and pets, a category I and Uh-Oh belong too. Uh-Oh, who a week ago wouldn’t get near water, now gets a nightly bath in cool water, without protesting. I hold up his dripping body in front of a fan and he just goes limp in the sudden coolness and comfort……Daddy is home and the world revolves again. On the days when the heat reached triple digits, I worried I would find a melted puddle of fur when I got home. Usually I came home to find him, on a damp towel I had left for him, on his back showing the whole world his business and caring less. Just turning on the water in the sink would perk him up and the protests of the previous week now a long lost memory. The same ritual for myself would happen just before bed time although not nearly as amusing, but just as cooling.
Another bad excuse for not writing, is my tired body after work. My company like many others, has over the last few months, had to be very proactive on many fronts to maintain some retail sanity. I am happy to say we are doing very well, but the resulting fatigue on the employees is evident. We got a new president (from Walmart) who has taken the reins and the company for a ride into daily URGENT emails. His direction is a very different vision than our last president and we chalk that up to his last position and a Wally-World mentality. He sneezes and a thousand people run to get a tissue. I just try and go with the flow and shake my head along with everyone else, what can we do. I do think though after some of the antics last week, the backlash may have finally rippled all the way to corporate. The silliness of URGENT has lost all of its intent and force.
To get away from all the drama at work, I took four days off and drove off to the beach, my old home. Granted I had a great excuse and gave plenty of lead time for my days off, my nephews wedding. The fact that it was at the cool beach versus the hot city was just a karmic pleasure.
Next blog….going home, to the beach
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I make it no secret that I am not mechanically inclined. I could build a house, plumb a pipe if needed and zizzle with some wattage but internal combustion is another galaxy. I could never have a job where driving was part of the employment package, ever again. When I was a young lad with my job, I was sent on a purgatorial mission for a couple of years to the Los Angles basin. At first it was fine, I was just one little guy who managed one little store in one little mall, life was blissful…..so to speak. I had been transferred out of the Big Apple to do my penance in the Southern California environment. Living in New York I never had trouble navigating about with the numerous transportation devices designed to shuttle people from here to there. In fact I loved the transportation aspect of going to work. Trains or any version there of were and are one of my favorite ways to travel. In New York my first big advancement came with a new store in the World Trade Center, a new big huge development I could see from my loft window. Next came the shift to a store in New Jersey. The trip just got more exciting with a PATH train from either the World Trade Center or the Village, under the Hudson to catch my charming Erie Lackawanna cane swiveling seats to the hinterlands of New Jersey, I loved it. I even loved it when it snowed in New York.
But transferring to Los Angeles was a whole new ballgame. I would need a car again. First just to get anywhere you needed one. I had and still do love Volkswagens, I have had three in my life. My first a Beetle, second a wagon and third and mistake, a Rabbit. This car was a lemon from the get go. Thank god for warranties but still the aggravation of having to constantly go in to have something fixed was only the result of having a nervous breakdown previously, when it didn’t work. Cars never break down and you have fun. Three alternators before one worked and lots of little mechanical issues. This was the year AAA and I became married for the remainder of my life. It wouldn’t be the first time they were a tonic on my nerves. I have and continue to use them when ever I need road side assistance. I could do a Public Service announcement for them. It is the card next to my drivers license as important information goes.
But I digress as I ramble…. In Los Angeles I started with one store and quickly stepped up the ladder with an additional two in So-Cal. Here is where my life and the automobile came to a mutual love/hate relationship. I would on many days, drive from the Valley to Downtown and onto Orange County. Mind you I was living in West Hollywood so using that as a starting point, that trio of locations would rotate in some form or matter. Hours it seemed was on the parking lot of squirrelly ribbons of highway that make life crawl in the area. To this day I fail to see the enchantment of Southern California, may it fall into the ocean when the big one hits.
It has been an anxiety filled week for me, up here in the Northwest. We have had the worst snow and ice storms for the last forty years. The city came to a dead stop, with even the experienced staying put. Sure it started out a tiny bit fun, first with a cold blast, but nothing really annoying. Then some flurries, a little dusting, pretty….ahh isn’t that that just special and Christmas just a few days away. But then it didn’t stop, and it piled higher and just the simplest of travel became difficult. Oh sure I had prepared somewhat. The battery was getting a little cranky so I opted for a new one before it got too cold. I also on a precaution bought a set of chains. One of those should have, but never got around to buying things. Trying to be preemptive and not be a “chicken little” and have to deal with the need, when the time arose. I even did a dry test and went out and tried them out, feeling very confident about it.
It snowed and snowed and iced and more snow and I FUCKING WORK IN RETAIL. (pardon the French) Any other time of the year and this would not have been a big deal but it was and it became just a anxiety filled day before I even got out of bed. What would I find when I woke up? How much, how hard, how slippery, before I even got out of bed. This persisted in my pre-dream clouds and the first thing I struggled with when I woke up. Every day it got worse. Around here it has snowed and then it goes away in a day or so, but only a silly couple of inches, is nothing.
Saturday left work and decided to put the chains on. It was snowing hard and blowing fierce. You know the dry run isn’t anything compared to the cold wet realities of trying in the dark, under a street lamp. Sunday, I called in, “Not gonn’a make it” Monday, I called in….Um….don’t think I can even get out of my driveway, but I will try, “Nope”, maybe 3 or four feet. I kept watching it drift higher and higher around the car and in the parking lot. When it cleared a bit I borrowed my little brother and a couple of shovels to see maybe if I could clear enough to get over. By this time the snow was fourteen inches high and my anxiety about the pile of work building up started to eat at me.
Tuesday I was desperate, I needed to get to work and was urged so by my boss. More shoveling down to the pavement and deicer applied. Some thirty feet and fifty something in years and the toll on my body was hard. I got to work and the dread in my routine was that I wasn’t leaving until after 11:30, being the closing manager. All day it snowed and froze. Work was already difficult and customers were getting cranky, worried their orders would not get done in time. Crew couldn’t get in and supplies were running short and the next delivery kept getting put off. It was bit of touch and go for a while. Sure enough, I went out to the car near midnight and it was frozen in. There was no way it was going to move, just too much snow and ice. Okay…. I tried, I dug, just not a budge, I had a moment of panic. I literally was no place where anything could get to me or was willing to try.
After weighing my options inside the warm non moving car I decided not to take the Donner party option. I had made a couple of calls, but assistance was futile and it was after all, well after midnight. All forms of bad public transportation were long gone as available. The next question was “where” and was I “willing”? After a morning of shoveling, a long day of work I needed to hike somewhere to stay. First , I hated leaving the relative warm comfort, but I was ready with multiple-bundle-wear. Locking and arming the car I headed out in the only direction of some comfort and hot water. Of course my store was the farthest from the goal, but I had no option. Up, out and I started to trudged through the snow and ice. I hated leaving the car, after all, there are some fringe elements near by, that might take advantage of a lone car. I did have an extra set of work clothes, but decided to leave them so I wouldn’t have to carry anything on the slippery ice. My white parka, was now the same dingy brown color my white car was sporting from the mud and slush of digging out the wheels.
I finally found my grotto of hope, strung up by the balls for payment in a buyers market, in a snow zone just off the interstate. Now very tired, very cold feet from not having any boots, but wired. I just tried to sleep with not much luck. I did worry about the little fellow at home, he had never been home alone for so long. (He is now snuggled in my lap as I type this, after the most caterwauling demonstration he has ever made) I didn’t have any of my medications with me, that could be of some concern if I didn’t watch myself.
When I woke up this morning, the first thing I did was zip on the news and open the drapes to verify the verdict….more snow, lots of it. The out look for the day wasn’t good. After a long hot shower, I had put on the old clothes with some variations. I should have brought the extra set, with hind site.
Hotel coffee first, and the reverse traverse of the night before, food to go and back to the grind with new cold feet. The dirty white car was still intact, no molestation, greeted me as I made the last yards to the front door. I got out my new set of clothes and shoes to change into. The snow flew all morning with some freezing rain in the afternoon…..but then what should appear and clear, the air drew warmer and the grip seemed to slacken. With bus directions in pocket, and a few of the crew we tried a bit of rocke’n to get the car out. It bounced and it bounced but nary a budge when all of a sudden a lurch, it did trudge. It slipped and it slidded as it skidded with glee on a ice slick surface now being free. The ower got out and shouted with yee at his friends that had freed him this Christmas eve.
At home with the kitty all snug in my lap, home is where the car is parked and tomorrow the day off.
Merry Christmas to all ….and to me a nights rest.
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