Thoughts on Christmas Letters

Consider your selves lucky.  You didn't get a Christmas Letter from us this year, recalling the memorable moments experienced by our wonderful family during the last twelve months.  You did not have to squint at blurry photos of us standing in front of monuments and churches on our enviable trips.  You were spared the adorable pictures of our cuddly pets and cuter-than-average grandkids.  If you were on our A list, you got a nice storebought card with an appropriate seasonal wish/greeting. 

 Everyone has access to word processing,  so it has become de rigueur for the family scribe to compose these little annual histories, like newsletters, printed with festive little borders and using special gothic fonts.  We got a dozen or so, ranging from the barely readable to the mildly informative to the ludicrous.  When the authors sit-down to write a Christmas Letter, they presumably do so out of an urge to recap the year of pertinent news for friends whom they have not had regular contact with.  But by the third sentence they start channeling Walter Cronkite, announcing each mundane event as if it were late-breaking need-to-know news.

 "Trish said her first word in February. It was "Dlurb" 

           "Thor, our new pucker doodle puppy,  ate mom's favorite pink bunny slipper."

While I am sure these memories are precious, I wonder if they need to be shared with the World.  Sometimes, they can unintentionally reveal too much information.

 "Slippery fingers Jill dropped a gallon jug of K-Y Jelly on my toe and I was limping around for a month."

Does anyone really like to get these smarmy, self-satisfied, impersonal missives?  I don't think so. The mistake most amateur writers make is that their prime motivation is to tell you something positive about themselves.  They incorrectly think that you are interested in their wonderful lives, so they selectively pick-out what they think is the most enviable moments.  They believe themselves to be informative and entertaining, I guess.  

The truth is, we are more entertained by accounts of ruined parties - where uncle Jack got drunk and fell off the chair  - than we are about perfectly planned parties where the food was perfectly cooked and everyone exchanged pleasant dinner conversation.  We don't want to hear you gush about your luxurious river cruise down the Seine, we want to hear about your miserable air travel hassles "And little Bernie screamed all the way from Paris to Rome! It was awful."   We wallow in your misery.

 Christmas Letter authors ought to be more caring and tuned-in to their audience.  Instead of crowing about what a great year you have had, describe some of the hilariously  crappy moments.  Instead of striving to make your recipients wish they were you, give them the gift of  being happy with their own lot in life - make them glad they aren't you.

Here are some ideas to get you started on a more interesting Christmas Letter next year:

"Melvin lost most of our nestegg investing in mink farms. What an Idiot. I should have married...."

"One of the neighbors tipped-off the cops and they confiscated my whole crop of weed...."

"Alice is pregnant again. She was featured on the Maury show to determine who the dad is....."

" Irving saved money by spreading lime on the front himself. Except that he mistakenly loaded up the spreader with rock salt..."

"Publishers Clearing house knocked on the door, but no one was home...."

 

You get the idea. 

** Disclaimer: Except for George, no one who reads this blog sent one of the Christmas Letters described in the piece.

 

Ch-ch-changes

Although I generally think of myself as retired,  I have kept up an interest in keeping active and involved with the working world.   In early December I answered a job ad on Craigslist for a Shipper at a small local nonprofit publishing company.  The job description contained many of the elements that I want in a job:
      ·         local – this outfit was a 6 minute drive,
      ·          modest commitment of time -  two  mornings a week (8hrs max) ,
      ·         some physical activity – 70% of the job was not sitting in front of a computer,
      ·         A decent hourly rate – $15 which is a few bucks above the min. wage.

During the interview, I learned that the job involved entering transactions on the database the picking packing and shipping.  I have always been a fan of the fulfillment process.  At various times in my career I have worked at big companies, helping to design and implement optimal processes for order entry, through the distribution cycle to billing and receipt.  On my resume I used to claim to be an IT fulfillment expert.  

But those high flying glory days are long ago and far away.  These days I swing on low hanging branches.  This opportunity appeared  to  be an easy way to get a paid workout and lend some structure to my distinctly unstructured week.  The two women who interviewed me apparently saw that I was a trustworthy guy who would show up and get things done.  So I accepted the offer with a modicum of hope and enthusiasm.

However after two weeks of training it became clear that this was not turning out to be what I had expected.  It was a very small operation, with only 2 full timers and only one other part timer ( the Accountant).  The physical part of the job – schlepping boxes of books, packing and filling orders – was relatively easy to learn and well within my strength and endurance capabilities.  After several weeks I had established a fairly good routine for getting the shipping and stocking work done.

But the job also involved key-entry of order data into a MAC  Filemaker Pro database.  This was a customized system that was probably considered "state of the art" in 1991.  It was clunky, and I was slow.  The gal who I was reporting to was impatient with my tedious keyboarding skills and several times during the training, she would exasperatedly reach over and hit the key that I was searching for.   When I told her not to do that, she developed a scowl that became ever-present when she and I were in the same room.    

I have never been very good at labor intensive activities myself.   Perhaps this realization was the motivation  for the role that I enjoyed most in my professional life:  helping other people work more efficiently.

Since retiring and entering the world of part-time work, I have had to come to terms with the realization that employers were not looking for their part-timers to be problem solvers or major contributors; they just wanted an efficient, interchangeable part - An easily replaceable working unit who does not ask questions or offer suggestions for improvement.  Ideally, they’d prefer a robot.  

I admit that I am not always patient or compliant.  Like most adults, I dislike supervision.  I can be stubborn – a tendency which I blame on my Irish and Dutch genes.  There was a lot of supervision and not much congeniality.  I expected a laid-back atmosphere, but was disappointed to find the chill of no-nonsense efficiency to be the prevailing wind.

This may sound like a self-serving rationalization for my decision to quit the job, but after a few weeks, I just did not see things getting better.   One of the chief reasons I quit my last job (at AAA), was because  they would not even discuss the possibility of improving the process (too costly), and yet they blamed the hapless counter people for making errors on a system that was neither logical or intuitive.  This was pretty much the same situation. 

At my age, I feel that I should not endure anything that I dislike if I can help it.  So, it is with little regret that I say sayonara and good luck.  Every experience is an education; even if it is not always fun.

Have I given-up on my quest to become usefully employed?  No.   My daughter has encouraged me to follow her interests in mediation training.  She seems to think that I would enjoy helping people find solutions to conflicts.  I am giving it serious consideration.   I demur, because the cynical part of my ego suspects that it is too late -- that I have become a hopelessly grumpy old fart who will never be satisfied with any job.

Hope still lives – I am starting Yoga lessons next week.  Flexibility and inner peace, here I come!

Holiday Events

Here at the Wellesley mansion, we have been busy preparing for the holiday festivities. We have a wreath with a red bow hanging out front and we have a Christmas Tree. Yes, Virginia, we still call it a "Christmas Tree" and if our Muslim, Jewish, Gay, Transgender, Vegetarian, African-American, Handicapped, Atheist friends and neighbors are offended, they can go suck eggs.

Last year, I finally gave-in and let my wife buy an artificial - excuse me, she calls it a "permenant" tree. It comes in three sections pre-wired with lights , and takes all of 10 minutes to put up. I would prefer a traditional “live” spruce, but I must admit there is an up-side to going fake. No schlepping around looking for the perfect tree at a reasonable price, no pine needles on the rug, easy-up, easy-down, and no expired tree to haul off to the dump.  The cats seem annoyed that there is no water tray to drink from, but they are captivated by the many new cat toys hanging from the branches.

We have another holiday party to go to this afternoon.  One of those open house deals where the hostess has cluelessly scheduled it smack in the middle of the Patriots vs Broncos game.   She feels that it is the NFL schedule that is at fault and besides who what a waste of time watching a stupid football game characterized by intense moments of brutality interspersed by long intervals of standing around and commercials.  She has a point, but still...

This will be our third holiday event in three days, and we know the effects of all that rich food and libation.  I may have to let out my belt a notch, but no worries I have already resolved to start a more healthy lifestyle -- next year.

'Tis The Season for Feeling Charitable

Like you, I hate to see pictures of starving children and homeless adults.  I believe that in a prosperous country such as ours, a principal role of the government should be to assuage the hardships on the less fortunate among us.  They say that among peoples of the world Americans are the most generous, both publicly and privately.  Many wealthy Americans are generous in their charitable giving.

Obama keeps telling us that everyone needs to pay their fair share.  Frankly, I don't blame wealthy conservatives for not wanting to pay higher taxes.  The government wastes most of the money it collects.  The cost of corruption, featherbedding, pork-barrel spending, cronyism,  malfeasance, lavish perks, abuse of privilege, and general incompetence adds up to skillions of dollars. No president or elected representative seems willing or able to address that simple truth.

The Boston Globe had an article recently  lamenting the problems charities are having with donations.  They blame the shortfalls on the widespread problems of the economy  -- especially joblessness and underemployment.
I must confess that as a fixed-income pensioner I am getting more tightfisted when it comes to charitable giving.  In the past when I was enjoying a moderate earnings as a worker I would donate to several different charities.  During the eighties, the local United Way organization was aggressive in getting corporations to influence their employees to sign up for "recommended levels" of giving.  The corporate UW committee members enjoyed lavish luncheons and generous time allowances to work on strategies to convince employees to pony-up generous donations, painlessly deducted from weekly paychecks.  The goal of 100% participation was articulated at upper management levels and  hamhandedly enforced by  management lackeys. While this approach was monetarily successful, it created a toxic atmosphere for some employees who resented being told how much to give, and who should decide which charity should get the donations. Needless to say, I was among those who rejected this fascist high-pressure approach to charitable giving.

Instead I would choose a half dozen worthy charities and divide my modest contributions among them.  Over the years , however, I became alienated by the aggressive marketing efforts of these charities.   I should confess, this alienation corresponds to an increasing personal attitude of skepticism and cynicism about the percentage of collected monies that found their way to the actual recipients.

Annoying bellringers -- give them nothing!

A few years ago I sent a nice check to the Salvation Army - an organization that I believe does great service in the general community.  Within a few months of my contribution I began to receive a series of requests for even more generosity.  With dismay,  I realized that my donation was actually being used to cover the costs of soliciting more donations!  To this day, despite my entreaty to be removed from the list,  I get 5 or 6 mailings per year from Salvation Army, all of which go into the recycle bin, unopened.  By the way, I refuse to give cash to anyone clanging a bell on a street corner.  That's just so annoying, not to mention that they set-up right at the door to the supermarket to try to make you feel guilty if you pass them by.

I will not be intimidated.  I always resented being strong-armed by well meaning neighbors or coworkers to give to the charity of their choice.  I don't mean solicitations for girl scout cookies, I'm talking about subsidizing walks for dreaded diseases, collections for their personal cause.  Hey I don't go around begging friends to contribute to The Institute for Research on Bloggers with Writers Block, do I?

The only charity I contribute to these days is the Boston Globe Santa, which spends 100% of all cash donations on the intended recipients.  The Globe donates its advertising and program management expenses to cover administrative costs.  To me, this is a real charity, worthy of my generosity.  Perhaps this year I shall bump my usual $20 contribution, to a hefty $25.

Suck on that, United Way.