Mother's Day as an Orphan

Weather forecasts are gloomy for the next few days, ruining what should be a great spring planting weekend. And, of course, Mother's Day. I have seeds sprouting under lights in the basement - my rite of spring. The supreme annual expression of hope and expectation. Cell packs of Tomatoes, peppers, herbs, marigolds, Mom's favorite morning glories, cucumbers and lettuce. 

 As the season matures, the inevitable occurs. Too much rain, not enough rain, too many varmints and bugs chomping on my garden. Thus are the hopes for a bountiful harvest and a luxuriant flower garden pared-down to hopes of a few pounds of ripe tomatoes and a handful of blooms for cutting. It always makes me wonder what people did for salad before refrigeration and rapid transportation. Here in the northeast, lettuce is gone to seed by the time cucumbers and tomatoes are ripening. 

 Speaking of things ripening, the expiration date of my shelf life as a retail employee is rapidly approaching. I have informed my wife that the store employee discount only lasts as long as the tenure of the employee, and therefore one should hurry if one has things on her list that must be acquired. Let me be clear: the store experience has been great. It happened at a time when I needed some structure in my life. The part-time job has given me that structure, and the excitement of helping to open-up a new store was both unique and satisfying. Meeting the physical challenge of manual labor has been the most satisfying thing I have done at work in a long time. 

 But there are two aspects of this level of work that are beginning to bother me. First is the problem of supervision. Any one who has ever been my manager can tell you that I do not respond well to detailed instruction. As I have often said, if you need to tell me how to do my job then maybe you should get someone else. My best most productive mode is in environments where no one knows what to do. The only direction I want from management is to identify the problem and the ultimate goal. To me the satisfaction of working is to figure-out how to solve the problem, to define and implement the solution. I want management to give me the resources and authority to get it done. This level of autonomy does not exist in retail. Retail is run like the military. Brass at the top, scum sucking privates at the bottom of a multi-level command and control organizational structure. There is no level of decision-making expected of the dolts at the lowest levels. There is a book to define conduct, rules, and ways of doing things. The most elementary activity or process is detailed and prescribed. 

 For someone whose career has basically been process improvement, it is difficult to carry-out orders to do labor-intensive things routinely, mindlessly and often inefficiently. Worse, sometimes a person wants to do things differently just for kicks. This sort of radicalism is discouraged. Secondly, there is another spookier aspect of this environment. Relentless cheer-leading. Now, I have spent six decades upon this earth. Most of the time life has been good, but there are times when things go wrong. Many times. Any residual degree of cynicism or pessimism has been earned honestly and painfully. Further, my sense of humor seems to feed upon anger and rage at this screwed-up world. Thus, my characteristic expressions of humorously decidedly negative observations (eg, the other morning, the driver took 15 minutes just trying to back the semi trailer square into the loading dock. My query, "Where the heck did he get his truck driver's license - Sears?" was met with steely looks and taut jaws of the supervisory crew leaders who will not tolerate anything but positivity. There is a palpable effort to control the thoughts of employees by constant (mindless) repetition of uplifting, seemingly harmless tenets of being flexible, working quickly, and smiling a lot. If your not having fun, something must be wrong with you. Well, perhaps something is wrong with me. I am not having fun. Fun is drinking beer and fishing. Playing poker. Watching a great game or movie. Reading a great book. Dancing naked in the moonlight on the front lawn. Writing crap in your blog. You know, that kind of stuff. Fun is not being micromanaged by emptyheaded supervisors who were hired mainly because they like to bust other people's chops. Besides that, I know something else that you don't about my future in the professional workforce. Hint: it is not working at a prison in Baghdad. Stay Tuned. And if you are lucky enough to have a living mother, be nice to her tomorrow.