"We're Closing Because----" du Jour

It began harmlessly enough, some eye rolls, sighs, exasperated sidelong glances, tight-lipped "have a great day"s...I can't even remember the exact comment that sent me off into raucous hysteria, but none of us could hide that this question was getting too tedious; because the only real reason is because this person and 10,000 other maniacs didn't buy enough items in our store. There's the discount warehouses, suburban big boxes, 60" plasma orgasm fund-sucker factor, on-line buying, construction junction, grocery check-out line co-options, lots and lots of money mouths to feed, okay. 'Nuff said, we're closing. No one has jobs lined up, and it so sucks. Perhaps a concerned comment, thank you, we'll miss you, too. But when someone asks merely to let you know how much this inconveniences them to walk one block to another store to purchase the same two $1.99 & $3.49 magazines...this started the descent into madness and delirium.

I stood at the computer and began 99 pt typing "We're closing because--" and a customer receiving her change back said "Wow, I've never seen Iowa" upon spying an Iowa state quarter. I typed "--I've never seen Iowa" and that was the first sign. I did not stop laughing for at least an hour. It got progressively worse. "We're closing because my millionaire boyfriend insists" was next, "We won Powerball and you didn't", "the book deal came through", I've been appointed Minister of Culture of the Czech Republic," "our mission on this planet is complete", "it's time to make the donuts," "your mom needs me bad" (no, not that one) "American Idol's auditioning" and you got the idea. Hi-larious, over the top, snarky and for once, very real. As in, the souls behind the name-tags.

Most people laughed. An actual couple from Iowa thought it was bizarre. Most people got the gist, another store a block away, ha ha, but we liked your place better. The next question of "What's going in here then?" is the one I want to do next, but I think I'm feeling bitter and will be the only person to get the joke. "Watch for 'Big Bubba Hubba's Tattoo Removal and Face Tightening' by Feb 15!" Or the "Ganesh Love Handle Candle & Pawn". Landlord would love those ideas.

Sometimes you just need to laugh, and bring a lot of people with you. Try to keep up.

Tomorrow is our actual last day with customers. Then the sparkling carriage turns into a humble punkin again, and Saturday morning dawns haggard on instantly worthless products, mountains of packing, sorting, and ruthlessly dumpstering. It all reminds me of the bleakest Ebenezer Scrooge of all, Alastir Sim in a B&W post-war London film studio's Victorian sets, with the ragpickers, scullery maids and undertakers bickering over Scrooge's linens, bed curtains, and measly effects. I love that film, it's so real, and always converts me from my Scroogeyness. I feel gratitude, and quit being a crab-ass, and feel gently blessed.

This term of service with this company has been a ride that has provided me with a lifetime of material, for which I am , if not grateful, at least thrilled to escape with. We will put on some Led Zeppelin, inappropriate t-shirts, eat pizza and drink way too much Coke, pack up the detritus and redundancy, and hit the street full of party plans. Try to keep up.

Severance Ordeal part 1

I've been glib all day. Sassy, fun, excited at a day away from the closing business, enjoying a sun-drenched 30-degree winter's day, taking pictures, thinking this relaxed morning is a glimpse of my impending future.
After getting the mail, I sobered up real fast. The official "Severance Package" arrived, thanking me for my (4 of 10) years with the hang-dog division, never mentioning my 6 years with the winning dog division, and thoughtfully enclosing a 7 page document on how to conduct myself during the job interview process. I was a @#%*-ing Human Resources Manager for krist's sake, give me a break from the lowest common denominator bullshit for a minute. The COBRA is highway robbery (basically you are paying how much a month it would actually cost you if you got sick) and there was nothing indicating my amount of payout or how soon that package would arrive, let alone how long that form would take to "process".

Ohhhh, I feel the Big Bitter coming on. Good thing the sun is courageously blasting my winter world into golden wonder this afternoon, or I might have needed to reach for some strong medicine, like Swiss Vanilla Almond, abandoned Internet shopping, cheap frozen tequila drinks & ruthless sex, ear-splitting Led Zeppelin, or (gulp) the dreaded jalapeno Tim's Potato Chips. Over-doing something is called for, but I don't wanna get hurt today. It's too nice out.

I went in this morning on my day off to take some pictures for the removal company, & I saw two of the parcel drivers I've gotten to know over the past four years, and took a few shots of them with the big trucks. I cannot stress how integral it is to a business to have good drivers and good relationships with these hard-schlepping folks. I'm going to miss these guys so much, a piece of each day is extracted along with my employment status. I wonder about their new dogs, the high school daughter's college search, the new media room addition on the old house, the progress of the day-trading. They don't know quite what to say either. We both feel sad and yet a bit silly that we do. I guess they like me, too.

The fragile light this morning through the matchstick blinds seemed like fog at first, that amazing frozen fog hovering over the Willamette Valley, stinging lilac apprehension, fantasy sky we've had so often lately. When you awake, is it 5:30am or 5:30pm? You can't tell at first. There is that hush of thick air, gently carrying sounds, that reflected so much white light into the 6am bedroom I knew it was snow. Make coffee, curl back into bed, listen to the radio news and kids walking to school outside, dog leashes and toddlers' strollers, and hints of my neighbors' fireplace making it's way into the drafty unglazed windows by my head. How did I ever live without this? How did my life accelerate into numbness and drudgery? Can I really make the best possible world out of this lay-off, do I have what it takes, what I need to carry this off?
What will I do if I don't? Winter in Portland is a dormant time, post-holiday calm, heat is off, go to Hood or stay indoors. There are jobs, should I be worried? Should I apply for the new position launching in a different division of the Company, an ersatz promotion, new direction, keep the 4 weeks vacation, benefits, worthless stock options? Wait for the axe to fall again later in the year after the new CEO has warned all employees that the next three years are going to be "challenging" and "an opportunity for growth", all corporate jargon for "sucking really hard"?
Look forward to future lay-offs, division closures, "re-assignment" ie; demotion, hating it even more than I do now and kicking my own ass for not getting out now?

All of my co-workers have moved into the next phases of grieving--shock has worn off, and so has anger, negotiating was last week, this week was more feigned indifference, making lines of demarcation and stepping over them, using verbs indicating this workplace is past tense, plans for travel, relocation, school resumption. Parts of this remind me of finishing a film, I started calling the post-closing party plans the "wrap party". We want to drink, eat, celebrate the good stuff, feed the ties we want to maintain, let go of what we didn't want to carry in the first place, and I get to stand down from my vigilance of being the Boss. I look forward to that. These are good folks, that's why I hired them in the first place.

How to celebrate 'National Skip Your Meds' Day

Well, first there's the choice of headwear. Be original.
Then there's the venue---malls are good, stores with the fewer employees the better.
Bring someone with you to yell at, or at least a cellphone. Both is best.
Be disruptive in your own idiosyncratic way, and stick around a while, don't rush off.
Launch into a racist monologue, disregard personal space, and generalize about groups of people starting with "eye-" a lot. Make good use of all that practicing of withering sneers in the mirror.
The more lipstick you have on your teeth while grimacing at incompetent sales staff, the better.
Contradict yourself frequently to see if that idiot sales girl is listening.
If you can let your two year old cry for 40 minutes in your back-sling while browsing, you are disqualified for having certainly taken too many meds already today.
Ask for an item you haven't actually purchased since 1958, and see how long you can make the other idiot sales girl look for one in her stock room. Demand someone drive it to your house when they find it.
Make her call some other stores in her chain for said item while you are arguing with your daughter-in-law on the cell phone and your sullen 13-year old is yelling at you from the front of the store to hurry up because her grandmother is at the candy store with her hands in the jelly bean bins again.
Finally attempt to pay for a $1.99 magazine with a gift card from a different store, yelling at the 13-year old who's already yelling at grandma across the food court who's yelling into her cellphone because there's no reception in the marble food court area, leaving your leaking sticky half-sucked-down smoothie cup on top of the $1.99 magazine you did not buy because your next three credit cards were declined while your ringtone marathon was underway before your purse spilled out onto the floor blocking the now three-deep line of shoppers behind you pinched-lipped and seething and starting to snarl at the only idiot sales girl still at the register.

Nice work!! You win!! Onward to the next venue! We've got the whole day ahead of us! Let's try some no receipt returns and 8 year old coupons from the Bahamas while bringing your alarm-triggering shopping bags from the designer rack store while telling everyone how much cheaper everything here is at Costco. Stand in front of the blaring alarm indefinitely. Then sneer and call for the manager.

Hansel in the Woods with Pistachio Shells

It's days like this that I realize I don't know what I'm doing.
Having an amazing lunch with my director, hair let down, real-time talking, no bullshit back and forth, and I see even more clearly my time with this Company is over. Then I ask her some questions that sound so paranoid, she just looks at me with that disappointed let-down eyelids look, and I see I just blew the great lunch. Caramelized onions with rigatoni and basil garlic cream sauce and grilled chicken. Yee-gads. I may need to call her later this year to test the pre-holiday job pickings, but I hope not. There's so much to do to get to February and the free-lance life---then the sun came out, it stopped sprinkling, and we stood outside watching the trains go by, both amazed Christmas is actually behind us again.

-----flashback-----

This time last year, I was feeling the same way, only without the lay-off. I was sure I was on my way to the Artist's Life, make the treasure, uncover the beauty, craft the good goods, smile humbly, collect the money. Repeat in a leisurely and profitable fashion. I began locating the raw materials, I sketched, I researched, I planned, I web-surfed, Googled, stalled and brainstormed with everyone. But it was a damp box of matches. And the sideways glances from those in my immediate nervous circle did not buoy me with confidence or validation. Much sighing, more stalling, then the deep sink into premium ice cream or beer.
One of the best summers of my life was shared on my front porch with my landlady, every dog-walking neighbor, baby-in-tow or no, drop-by folks and planned guests with ale, grills, glasses, bottles and sooooooo much sun. Spectacular Portland summer spent thoroughly. I knitted an entire Noro wool cardigan sweater while tanning. And as I crept into late August and the dimming of the eternal day, came the waves of bruised gray dread that ahead lay another holiday build into madness and no escape from the runaway train.

------we're back-------

Oh dear, so bleak. I found some strength, and submitted to the ride, came out again alive (always so startled) and this time I lost my job at the end. Whoa. The train slowed and threw me off. I know it's a good thing, but the bumps and scratches need some time.

Selfishly, I stole an employee from another division a few years ago, and we have been the Genius Bitch Posse, intent on world domination, promoting trashy culture consumption, and making sure we had a good grip on the fun factor of day to day doing business. We revived vaudeville retail to rave reviews. Today while discussing future plans and buy-outs, I felt sick, suddenly realizing how much I will miss working with her everyday in the asylum. She'll be fine, whole life ahead etc etc, but our lab-o-laffs is shutting down. The best thing about this Company has always been the people in the vortex with me, and we reach escape velocity to fling away across country, back to school, into relationships, arranged marriages, "real jobs", away in every possible direction. The great thing about Portland is that slingy boomerang phenomenon---beads on a singing wire.

Diamonds Hovering in the Trees

Ending 2006 with the blindsiding episode of being laid-off, I began a furtive search for anything beautiful, shiny, glistening with potential, endowed with some gently hidden meaning just for me.
Opening my front door on a rare sunny late morning, I turned automatically into the warm glare from the south, and there were the dancing diamonds in the tree branches, glittering in waves like fish flicking away all at once. Unbelievably, a veil burned off and the sun strengthened, blinding me in mid-breath on the step, no time no time no time to waste anymore. I stood there for so long.

I'd had an intuitive flash of my next move even while still on the phone with the director giving me the bad news, but you keep your own counsel for a while, console them and be the good sport just to give yourself some more room and a pause (beat beat heart keep going) to finish the phone call, anyway.
'Take the money offer' has been the constant reassuring comment in my head, and after 10 days of pretending to consider my other options with the Company (there aren't any, really) I've begun planning the first few weeks of my Brave New Shoots life as a non-employee. I have so many tools, interests, a few connections, some ideas, big dreams and great stores of time ahead of me in this new Spring. Lists and budgets lie next to re-potted staghorn ferns and budding orchids.
Bare branches reveal the West Hills' lights at night and Mt. Tabor's shoulder in the early morning. I do not want to miss any of this anymore. I'm smart enough to figure out how to make this amazing opportunity work out for me, and know how much strength I derive from this oasis in the Southeast neighborhood.

This blog is about my absolutely sincere love of living in Portland, Oregon, amongst the urban tribes and various quadrant nations of all kinds, and how life evolves for those around and about who recklessly pursue themselves and their passionate whims of all hours. 47th Page & Light is the generating loft for my next stage of projects, including writing, web-pub-ing, art & trade, photography, travel & artifacts, reinvention, and collecting more ephemeral wonders of this river town.