I've been posting to this blog for a month and haven't received a single comment. I'm guessing that means no one is reading it. (Duh). I made this blog for myself and I must admit it's been therapeutic.
I guess I just had this romantic vision of one of my family members googling my name and stumbling on it, or maybe a complete stranger discovering it and then recommending it to one of their friends. So on and so on until I had a huge following and started getting offers from HBO to do a series based on my blog.
The truth is starting to set in though, which is: I'm occasionally clever, but when you get down to brass tacks, my writing is cliche. Bad joke intended. If a stranger runs across my blog, they'll chuckle once or twice (that might even be generous) and that will be that. HBO won't be calling.
It's cool though. I enjoy writing and it makes me feel better sometimes. I just wish one of these times I check it, I'd see a comment. And if I had a follower I'd probably do a happy dance.
Que the music.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Dear John
Tonight my boss called everyone in on my shift and wished us a Merry Christmas and made a few weak attempts at comedy. Then strategically, he threw in, "We'll be firing some people for poor productivity. They don't even know who they are. We're not telling them until after Christmas." He said all this with a tone that even telling us was almost an afterthought, rather than the sole reason he called the meeting.
What a guy.
My company has a corporate culture based on 2 premises. 1) All employees must be idiots, or they would have found another job by now. 2) Idiots respond only to fear
I wonder if John ever stopped to consider that he's threatened our jobs so many times that no one listens anymore. I wonder if he thinks thinly veiled threats are his only recourse to addressing any employee concerns.
I wish he would consider the alternative. I wish he'd consider making an attempt to change the culture our company has used probably for 40 years of belittling employees and mistreating them. We had a 9 figure lawsuit stemming from locking the employees in the store. Another multi-hundred million dollar lawsuit for systematically stealing from employees by shorting their paychecks. Another one for discriminatory hiring practices (keeping out blacks). And so many more I couldn't keep track of them if I wanted to.
Maybe instead of doing what they've always done, they could try to change. Instead of mistreating employees, maybe valuing their contributions may motivate them more than stealing from their paychecks.
Maybe paying a living wage might incent employees to do their best everyday instead of subtly threatening everyones job at a meeting on Christmas eve.
Maybe treating your employees like you'd treat your brother might make them actually want to do a good job. Perhaps cutting our hours at Christmas isn't the right thing to do after giving board members ten million dollar bonuses because the company stock went up 11% this month. I wish there was a hell because then you greedy corporate vampires would burn like road flares in a fireworks factory.
Sincerely,
Your employees
What a guy.
My company has a corporate culture based on 2 premises. 1) All employees must be idiots, or they would have found another job by now. 2) Idiots respond only to fear
I wonder if John ever stopped to consider that he's threatened our jobs so many times that no one listens anymore. I wonder if he thinks thinly veiled threats are his only recourse to addressing any employee concerns.
I wish he would consider the alternative. I wish he'd consider making an attempt to change the culture our company has used probably for 40 years of belittling employees and mistreating them. We had a 9 figure lawsuit stemming from locking the employees in the store. Another multi-hundred million dollar lawsuit for systematically stealing from employees by shorting their paychecks. Another one for discriminatory hiring practices (keeping out blacks). And so many more I couldn't keep track of them if I wanted to.
Maybe instead of doing what they've always done, they could try to change. Instead of mistreating employees, maybe valuing their contributions may motivate them more than stealing from their paychecks.
Maybe paying a living wage might incent employees to do their best everyday instead of subtly threatening everyones job at a meeting on Christmas eve.
Maybe treating your employees like you'd treat your brother might make them actually want to do a good job. Perhaps cutting our hours at Christmas isn't the right thing to do after giving board members ten million dollar bonuses because the company stock went up 11% this month. I wish there was a hell because then you greedy corporate vampires would burn like road flares in a fireworks factory.
Sincerely,
Your employees
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Trey Graves
I was checking out friends of friends on Facebook the other day when I saw the sister of a friend I was fairly close to in high school named Trey. We lost touch after high school and I haven't spoken to him in 19 years. I messaged his sister (Tara) and said hi and asked her if she remembered me and how Trey was doing. I got this response:
"Hi Jason. Of course I remember you. Thank you for asking about Trey. I'm sorry to have to tell you that Trey died 8 years ago from a drug overdose. He had been clean and sober for 6 years but this last time was just too much for him. Please don't feel bad. He is in a better place now. I feel bad having to tell people from time to time that don't know, but please don't feel bad. -- Tara."
I felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. I spoke to his mom right after I graduated high school and she said he had finally agreed to go to rehab. With an 18 yr old's naivette, I just thought that he was into pot or something. I don't know. Probably it was something like coke or meth or heroin I guess. Tough habits to kick.
He was so young though when I knew him. he was a year younger than me. He laughed all the time and liked to get into minor mischief. He had braces that made him slur his speech a little like most kids with braces. He liked to play video games and he liked to drive his car (an 89' dark blue Probe) way too fast. He liked going to the movies. He liked telling me about girls in our church youth group and their rumored exploits. He snored even as a kid when he slept. His feet stank. Memories fade with time but I remember that stuff.
I was vocal against drugs even in high school. Especially with my friends. I guess that's one of many reasons why he never told me what he was into.
I'm vaguely familiar with the phases of grief. I think anger is one of them. Reading his sister's email, I got angry.
"He's in a better place now."
Clearly she was trying to console me. She's religious. She said what she would want to hear if in my place. I'm not mad at her. Just the idea. The idea that God would let this kid that I loved get hooked on meth or whatever. That his teeth were probably cavity-ridden and decayed at the end. That he probably wanted to kill himself when he detoxed becoming sober initially. The shame and dispair he must have felt as he was tortured with internal debate about what he was doing the night he broke his 6 year sobriety. That my friend that I loved died alone either drowning in his own vomit or clutching his chest as his heart stopped or worse. Defecating in a pair of pants he probably hadn't changed in a week or two as he died. The lies he told his family about where he'd been and what he'd been doing. Making up alternate explanations as to why he switched jobs again and again and again, instead of telling them he just didn't show up cause he went on another 6 day bender.
The notion that God allowed all this to happen so that my friend could go to a better place is fucking offensive. I don't beat my kids for 5 years before I take them to Disney World. What a weak, weak logic to explain it.
Maybe I need God to direct my anger at. But even in the middle of my anger, I realize sadly that God didn't do this. It was a combination of some government bio-chemist in the 1950's that figured out how to make rats wig out by having them inhale burning crystal-methamphetamine fumes; along with my friend, having too much money and too much time, being bored at a party one night and some other rich little kid that said, "Hey Trey, ever tried this before?"
He isn't in a better place. He isn't anywhere anymore. Trey's gone.
"Hi Jason. Of course I remember you. Thank you for asking about Trey. I'm sorry to have to tell you that Trey died 8 years ago from a drug overdose. He had been clean and sober for 6 years but this last time was just too much for him. Please don't feel bad. He is in a better place now. I feel bad having to tell people from time to time that don't know, but please don't feel bad. -- Tara."
I felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. I spoke to his mom right after I graduated high school and she said he had finally agreed to go to rehab. With an 18 yr old's naivette, I just thought that he was into pot or something. I don't know. Probably it was something like coke or meth or heroin I guess. Tough habits to kick.
He was so young though when I knew him. he was a year younger than me. He laughed all the time and liked to get into minor mischief. He had braces that made him slur his speech a little like most kids with braces. He liked to play video games and he liked to drive his car (an 89' dark blue Probe) way too fast. He liked going to the movies. He liked telling me about girls in our church youth group and their rumored exploits. He snored even as a kid when he slept. His feet stank. Memories fade with time but I remember that stuff.
I was vocal against drugs even in high school. Especially with my friends. I guess that's one of many reasons why he never told me what he was into.
I'm vaguely familiar with the phases of grief. I think anger is one of them. Reading his sister's email, I got angry.
"He's in a better place now."
Clearly she was trying to console me. She's religious. She said what she would want to hear if in my place. I'm not mad at her. Just the idea. The idea that God would let this kid that I loved get hooked on meth or whatever. That his teeth were probably cavity-ridden and decayed at the end. That he probably wanted to kill himself when he detoxed becoming sober initially. The shame and dispair he must have felt as he was tortured with internal debate about what he was doing the night he broke his 6 year sobriety. That my friend that I loved died alone either drowning in his own vomit or clutching his chest as his heart stopped or worse. Defecating in a pair of pants he probably hadn't changed in a week or two as he died. The lies he told his family about where he'd been and what he'd been doing. Making up alternate explanations as to why he switched jobs again and again and again, instead of telling them he just didn't show up cause he went on another 6 day bender.
The notion that God allowed all this to happen so that my friend could go to a better place is fucking offensive. I don't beat my kids for 5 years before I take them to Disney World. What a weak, weak logic to explain it.
Maybe I need God to direct my anger at. But even in the middle of my anger, I realize sadly that God didn't do this. It was a combination of some government bio-chemist in the 1950's that figured out how to make rats wig out by having them inhale burning crystal-methamphetamine fumes; along with my friend, having too much money and too much time, being bored at a party one night and some other rich little kid that said, "Hey Trey, ever tried this before?"
He isn't in a better place. He isn't anywhere anymore. Trey's gone.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Luck, or something like it
So anyway, my wife is the coolest. We have almost nothing in common other than our kids and that we love each other. We often talk about how we've managed to make it in spite of being nothing alike.
I was reading something the other day and it talked about a theory I can't remember the name of, but basically whenever there is a choice of paths that sub-atomic particles can take; you can attempt to force the particle into a certain path. However once you attempt to do that, the particle changes paths before you attempt to manipulate it's original path. The theory basically says that every time there is a choice of more than one path for anything be it sub-atomic particles, electrons, golf balls, people ordering at restaurants or whatever; then the universe divides itself into how ever many choices there are available creating multiple universes to correspond to each choice. Since I can't remember the theory name, I'll call it the divergent universe theory. Anyway, I kinda see like a hundred million alternate universes where we're divorced and bitter towards each other and we're both on our 3rd marriage.
I just happen to be living in the universe where we're still married, we still love each other.
I was reading something the other day and it talked about a theory I can't remember the name of, but basically whenever there is a choice of paths that sub-atomic particles can take; you can attempt to force the particle into a certain path. However once you attempt to do that, the particle changes paths before you attempt to manipulate it's original path. The theory basically says that every time there is a choice of more than one path for anything be it sub-atomic particles, electrons, golf balls, people ordering at restaurants or whatever; then the universe divides itself into how ever many choices there are available creating multiple universes to correspond to each choice. Since I can't remember the theory name, I'll call it the divergent universe theory. Anyway, I kinda see like a hundred million alternate universes where we're divorced and bitter towards each other and we're both on our 3rd marriage.
I just happen to be living in the universe where we're still married, we still love each other.
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