— पांच हजार पांच सौ अड़तालीस —
There are stressful things happening at work that I can't speak publicly about. There may come a time when I can, but right now, I can't. There's the possibility of something catastrophic on the horizon, contingency plans are being made, and I am in a moral quandary about it. The general consensus seems to be that we are more likely to avoid catastrophe than not, but we still need to be prepared. There are still differing opinions about it. I had a chat with Amanda yesterday on the phone (she was working from home) and she was a little bit more pessimistic: "It feels a little like covid," she said, "where just when you think it can't get worse—it does." I am honestly not taking deep stock in that individual point of view, but who knows?
Speaking of the early days of covid, last night I met up with Gabby and her husband, Nick, for my first
Silent Movie Mondays at The Paramount Theater. It was my first time socializing with Gabby outside a work context, but I'll get to that in a bit.
She brought up how crazy things have been at work lately, and she asked me something I had not yet thought to wonder: "Is this the craziest thing that's happened since you worked here?"
It was easy for me to say no. "Covid was definitely crazier," I said. That could change, and I noted that as well, but for now at least, we're all still working at our day to day job as normal. That was absolutely not the case, for any of us, in March of 2020—when the entire office was directed to work from home, stores were overrun with panic buyers, and I spent a ton of time adding new items to the system that we never would have authorized under normal circumstances because they did not meet our ingredient standards. But, we had to fill our shelves with
something, as, for a several-month stretch there, first they were laid bare by panic shoppers, and then we regularly had to fill holes created by disrupted supply chains. Some of those disrutptions continued for a few years.
Plus, we were hardly the only ones going through that. In the grocery industry in particular, the everything just got upended. It was a global crisis. The possible-crisis we're facing now (which, again, we're hopeful can be avoided—there is certainly not the same crushing inevitability as there had been, with dawning realization, with covid) is much more localized, and individual to our company. It's potentially just as big a threat to our viability, though, maybe even more so—covid actually strengthened my sense of job security. What's going on right now, not so much.
And there's a broader reason I even bring this up now. Yesterday, Steve, who was part of our Book Club here at work, sent out an email that he had decided to move on from this job. He sent it to his entire department, and CCed several other individuals, including myself and Mel (the other person in Book Club, who basically launched it).
I replied, CCing Mel, that hopefully he'll still be in Seattle and I thought he should continue with Book Club. He's been slightly cagey about going forward, but has assured us he'll come to the next one we already have scheduled.
And, he came by my desk this morning. He had loaned me a book months ago, about Frank Lloyd Wright, and I asked if he wanted it back—I told him even when he loaned it to me that it would likely take me a very long time to get to it. "Consider it a gift," he said.
Anyway. Steve is our Manager of Training and Development. He does all new store staff Customer Service Training, and really designed the entire program. Shortly after he started here—and I went to check my Outlook "new staff / positions" folder to confirm this: he started just two years ago, March 2022—people in the office were invited to sit through his training and offer feedback. To be candid, I had mixed feelings about it at the time, as it was full of sort of pyschological "hacks" (not a work he used) for manipulating customers into trusting you. It got right down to word choices, tone of voice, and even body positon and posture: like, whether to stand with your left or right side aimed closer to them, that sort of stuff. My thinking at the time was: why not make customers trust us by simply offering straightforward, great customer service?
Cut to today, when Steven came by my desk, sort of to check in after that email exchange. He addressed his decision to leave directly: "There's no joy in it."
Damn. My heart kind of sank when I heard that. He makes a good point when he says that if there's no joy in it, and he's old enough and in a comfortable enough position in life to move on to something else for that reason, then why not? I just . . . wish there
had been some joy in it for him. How much the lack of joy had to do with the company overall and how much just had to do with the job itself (I certainly wouldn't take any joy in that job either), I don't know. He did say that when we next meet for Book Club, we will "debrief," and I assume will get more specifics.
Still, it does feel of a piece with many people who have moved on in recent years—including Jared, who had been brief in his email after I sent a message to him once I heard about his departure, which occurred while I was in Australia, but there was clear inference that he wasn't thrilled with the direction this company has taken. This has been a common thread among several of the people who have left but I have stayed in touch with, although to be fair, in more than one of those cases, it had a lot more to do with personnel / personality clashes than broader company direction, and even the people that kind of drove others away no longer work here either.
Gabby was telling Nick how long I have worked here, and I have tended to say "21 years" because last August was my 21st anniversary. I realized last night that, now we're in the new year, I might as well start saying "This August it'll be 22 years." Granted, I can't technically round
up until it's been more than half a year since my last anniversary, which takes us to . . . February 6. Well, close enough!
— पांच हजार पांच सौ अड़तालीस —
— पांच हजार पांच सौ अड़तालीस —
I suppose I could have populated today's Daily Lunch Update (DLU) with the three photos I took last night at
Silent Movie Mondays, but, a) you could also just click that link; and b) I have developed this OCD compulsion to burn through all of my Australia 2023 photos tagged as potential DLU photos. I still have 77 to burn through, although I'm saving about 11 of those from Sydney to use during Pride; and there's at least 1 I am also saving until Christmastime. But, by and large, I figure by the time that trip's one-year anniversary comes up (near the end of next month), I should be close to burning through them all otherwise.
I do sometimes try to find photos that in some way, however obscurely, match the themes of whatever I write about that day. Today is not one of those days.
Anyway! Silent Movie Mondays. Gabby suggested we meet outside the theater at 6:40. I walked down Pine Street from home to meet them, and with only about 20 minutes of it left to watch, I actually finished the HBO documentary
Time Bomb Y2K on my phone while I walked.
Nick is a huge film buff himself, in some ways even more than I am. He and Gabby ran a movie theater in Port Orchard for a couple of years several years ago, and apparently he still currently takes a film class at a local community college. Gabby was excited for Nick and me to have lots to talk about as film lovers, and we did indeed, after we found a place to sit, in the back row of the front section in the balcony.
Thus, I did have occasion to say, "I've liverally never done this before, but I actually just finished a movie while walking here."
I told them what it was, and that since it was a documentary, it was fine to watch it on my phone, something I very much avoid doing as a rule. It also wasn't even that special a documentary—it wasn't bad, it was fine, but not special—which, as both that and as a documentary, meant watching it on my phone wasn't a big deal. I just wanted to get it finished before I got to the theater.
Soon enough, the movie started, with the live accompaniment of an organ that's been with the Paramount Theater
since it opened in 1928. The movie we watched came out five years before that:
Safety Last, which we all enjoyed a great deal—myself notably
more than I expected to. I was astonished by a whole lot of the production value and especially the stunt work, and the movie was legitimately
funny. I laughed a lot, something I almost never expect to do watching films that old.
After we walked out at the end, Gabby asked if Shobhit would have enjoyed it. (She had hoped he'd be able to join us, so both she and Nick could finally meet him, but he had to work last night.) I told her, and also told Shobhit himself later after he got home, that I'm certain he would have enjoyed it. I can just imagine hearing his howling laughter.
Admittedly, the live organ, with added live percussion and sound effects, really added to the experience. But I felt the film still held up incredibly well just on its own. I'm so glad I finally saw it, as
Safety Last! is a very famous, classic film of the Silent Era that I really should not have taken this long to watch. I would even recommend others seek it out and watch it, because the extended sequence at the end, with the climbing up the side of a sixteen-story building and (the most famous shot) hanging from a clock, alone makes it worth watching. That whole sequence is just as suspenseful as it is hilarious, given the dangerous stunt work going on.
I had budgeted $30 in case we got drinks or something, but they seemed intent on heading home after the movie. I could have suggested getting a drink, and they might have done it, but I was also good with saving the budgeted $30. I do hope to get together sometime with them when Shobhit can join us, and would even really like to invite them over for dinner sometime soon. A bit selfishly, I am very deliberately waiting until after the performance reviews that are due next month are over with. The vibe I get from Gabby is that she'll be very generous, or at the very least certainly fair, so it's not like I'm worried about it, really. But, I'd rather take the safe route—due to a bit of lingering PTSD from the broadsiding, terrible first-ever performance review I got (from Stephanie) in 2003. It's ridiculous that I still get even a modicum of anxiousness about it after all this time, but there it is. It's still the first performance review I'll be getting from a new boss and I don't want to take any chances.
It will also be interesting to see how all the shit going down colors this year's review process, if at all.
— पांच हजार पांच सौ अड़तालीस —
[posted 12:31 pm]
