 |
 |
|
Out of Work
First month in Chicago (2001): probably still drinking the same level of beer, probably still a jack ass, but at least I’m an affable one by this point. I moved to Chicago and promptly lost my job when the company closed two months later. –eSolutions– Moving to the big city has not made my professional life any less colorful. I have been working in Chicago for less then two full months, but I have all ready submitted two resignations, been told that I have a careless work ethic by nearly all coworkers, and received another severance package- an event that is becoming annual. My career in the work force has not even reached the decade mark, but I have all ready received three severance packages and worked for five companies that have declared bankruptcy. Gypsies have a more stable employment history. If my current pace continues, I will –at the point of normal retirement– have received about 15 severance packages and closed almost thirty companies- there are some cities that do not even have thirty companies. Sears probably owns less then thirty companies. How many people can interview at a place like Sears or GE, and respond, “well that size doesn’t impress me- hell, I’ve closed that many companies!”? My retirement plan is going to be a mess. My final employer will probably have to hire additional consultants to manage the account:“Johnson, we want you to manage some one’s 401K roll-over” “but I work in mergers and acquisitions–” “well, this person’s work history is a little…, uh colorful. Frankly, we’ve never seen a deal that involves this many companies. This guy is the John D Rockefeller of getting fired. He actually worked for us once, and invested all of his savings in peanut butter futures before being fired.”Every one typically assumes that these companies close because the weight of employing me sinks them into an abyss of lost productivity. In truth, I have not closed any of these companies. They all failed because of poor decisions, made mostly by management. The better way to explain these problems, is to say –quite correctly– that any company which hires me probably makes very, very bad decisions on a regular basis. Hearing that a company hired me is like hearing about a person who plans to fill his own cavities- it may not kill him immediately, but you do not expect a long, healthy life from some one with that discernment. The decision making at eSolutions failed at multiple levels. Hiring me was probably not a mistake, simply because I did provide the exact services promised during my interview: highly skilled programming done with an approachable attitude for forty hours a week. However, eSolutions did not seem to understand the inflexibility of “for forty hours a week”. It must have been interpreted as a rough synonym for the common work week, meaning that I will work purposefully each week with the understanding that some weeks are more demanding then others. In truth, it meant that I am leaving at 5 PM, every single day- come Hell or high water. My check cashes no better with a sixty hour effort, so getting me to stay past 5 PM with any regularity is like signing for a package and asking, “hey why don’t give my car a checkup, while you’re out there?”. The answer is always a swift, assertive, nearly annoyed, “no”. To quickly summarize a long, rather boring interview, I accepted a position at eSolutions due to the company’s small size and attractive hours. Unfortunately, massive changes –occurring just before my start date– transformed the job into some thing that was radically different from its description. Every one was working over sixty hours a week, the atmosphere was very nervous and, despite the company’s small size, no one knew each other because each department was too busy to notice any thing beyond their space and dead-lines. eSolutions was principally staffed by an IT consulting firm that was a partial owner. That IT firm transferred their consultants to separate projects just before my arrival, so every one was now managing new responsibilities. I labored to explain the importance of good hours during my interview, therefore this format was completely unacceptable. I reacted as bluntly as possible: I tendered my resignation on day three. eSolutions then made a decision that challenges Pepsi AM as one of the dumbest ideas in American business: they denied my resignation. A nursery that keeps a pet wolverine is probably acting with better caution then a company that denies my resignation. I have a cancerous effect on the normal office: I sincerely believe that a hang-over is an absolutely valid excuse for being late and always remind employees that, “your check cashes the same, whether we solve this problem or not”. Any employee that constantly arrives late, claiming that his appointment with “doctor hang over”, was more difficult then expected, should be fired on the spot. Most of my former employers would probably recommend keeping a brain tumor before me: “ok, and would you consider hiring him back?” Are you kidding?? I would rather pass a kidney stone bigger then my first child- then both children, then have that kid back” “so, to paraphrase, you would rather give birth to twins through your urinary track then rehire Mr. Flannery?”I was fired three times while working in retail shoe sales, for Pete’s sake. You can not become the technical standard for an emerging industry by employing people that were turned away by the shoe sales industry. There are really only two demands when selling shoes: asking every one if they want “socks with that” and having so little care for your reputation that you are willing to clothe what is often the most rank part of a stranger’s body. NASA could use the UNLV mens basketball team to design the next space shuttle and enjoy better success then a company that is designing its application with people that were fired by the shoe sales industry. Of course, eSolutions barely knew me so they can not be expected, necessarily, to understand the advantage of allowing me to exit quietly and quickly. But some sort of warning must be sensed when an employee, one ear-marked from project management no less, is prepared to quit on day three. Professionals are not supposed to quit jobs on the third day. Turn-over of that speed in only supposed to occur on jobs where you have to pay a security deposit for a uniform, like Red Lobster or some thing. Plus, I worked in application security, for crying out loud. If I were a project manager, the last employee I would choose for securing the application is one who tenders his resignation every time he hears talk of a 45 hour week. Senior citizens, even the ones who regularly use words like “new fangled” when talking about computers, could probably hack our program: “Sean, this application does not even check passwords” “yeah, I didn’t want to stay past five, so I had to cut a few corners. We’ll probably have to rethink that password issue at some point, huh? ….By the way, I’ll be out next week.” Obviously, no employer can truly prevent some one from quitting, so the scenario was clearly more complex then I am reporting. Basically, I told the HR manager that I was hearing certain expectations from my managers that I could not satisfy, namely an effort of about sixty hours each week, and that –given my inability to reach these expectations– maybe I should resign. He felt that I was hearing inflated requirements and that the true work week would be closer to my expectations. He urged me to stay for a few more weeks and evaluate things after I had a better sense of the working environment. I agreed to show more patience and the meeting ended very positively. Two days later, I tried to quit again. Many people will probably wonder why I returned with a second resignation so quickly. eSolutions was totally disorganized. Each effort required a tremendous investment of time and people because finding the proper authorities and information was nearly impossible. People were working sixty hours a week because at least two full days were consumed as you waited for the necessary information or approval. Therefore, I assumed that the hours could never improve since the inefficiencies were being caused by structural problems, rather then market or timing issues. Plus, eSolutions had little interest in improving their structural problems, not until they secured additional revenue streams at least. I must have made a strong impression with the HR department because this meeting also ended positively, but with an entirely different agreement: “all right, you have made it pretty clear what you meant by ‘forty hours’. Let’s try it your way.” After that second resignation attempt, eSolutions became a fantastic job. I normally arrived at about ten AM and worked until six each day. The office was still disorganized, but I was now operating with total impunity and just departed at six o’clock, no matter what my department required: “Sean, you are going to test that module today, right?!” “yeah, sure- as long as, by ‘test’, you mean leave at six and then look at it later this week.” The initial temptation of each manager is to demand that I stay later, or at least suggest that it would be in my best interest, but people quickly learn that you can not intimidate an employee that submitted two resignations in the first week. One would enjoy better success by playing chicken with a person that tore the brakes out of the car and drives with a blind fold- which is probably the best way to describe how I manage my career: I ignore every possible safety feature and drive straight towards my managers with a flagrant death wish. I have the professional instincts of Evil Knevil. My flexible hours continued until eSolutions closed, which was a rather disappointing turn. The atmosphere was finally starting to improve since the project plans were becoming more reasonable and every one was more comfortable with their new roles. Plus my group, the security team, replaced the previous architecture with our own framework, which, due to certain improvements, allowed us to manage every thing in less time. During the final three weeks, every one was working forty hours or less on my team- it was becoming rather fun. Nonetheless, our improved performance could not make up for all the opportunities that were missed during the previous months. eSolutions’s final day may have been the most poorly anticipated event in my life, simply because every episode, starting with an awkward, morning meeting and finishing with drinking that is more fit for sailors then software developers, was totally unexpected. Every one arrived normally last Thursday, but, just before all the usual routines began, talk circulated about an unscheduled meeting that would reveal somber news. All employees were called into the conference room just before 10 AM, where the close of the company was announced during a tense meeting. People first reacted with disbelief, then many people, especially the senior employees, broke down. I remained quiet during the meeting, but was a huge asset once the procedure finished because it was soon apparent that I knew more about loosing a job then any one in the room. I started answering questions about the impact on health insurance and retirement plans, explaining things like COBRA, individual membership plans and 401 K roll overs to most of the IT people. I also discussed the art of explaining awkward terminations to many of the college graduates, who were nervous about leaving an employer for nontraditional reasons. Thus, I seem to have discovered a critical point, at which a terrible employment history is no longer a handicap, but, instead, qualifies you for a career in Human Resources: “all right Mr Flannery, what qualifies you to be our staffing coordinator?” “well, I have filled out W2 forms in over seven different states, been audited by the IRS, sued by previous employers, and currently have twenty one separate retirement plans.” –Freedom– I believe that May 31st is a day that Monica and Megan will now celebrate with more vigor then the fourth of July or any birth day. Monica had the joyous look of a new bride and Megan seemed to be quoting from the book of Exodus because, on that day, the world’s worst house guest left their couch and moved into his own place. Actually, I may not be the world’s worst guest, but, if one were to engineer such a person, I suspect that many of my attributes would be duplicated: beginning with my irrational opposition to pants, weird eating habits, odd opinions on virtually all subjects, and strong believe that any hang-over can be cured by repeated vomiting. Every one is glad that I am now in my own place, although I obviously appreciate their sacrifices greatly. Young women do not deserve a Sunday morning that starts with the sound of me pulling the trigger and sending a full clip of green vomit into the toilet. It seems like a summer day of rest should begin with the distant noise of Church bells or birds, not a drunk house guest who is loudly opening bottles of aspirin and choking the vomit out of his body…. …those two tolerated a great deal.–Moving– Jay, Paul and I now share an apartment near Wrigley Field. The place is rather large, especially by the standards of Chicago. The location is outstanding: a block north-east of Wrigley Field (we can hear the PA system from our place), five or six blocks from the lake and surrounded by bars in every direction. Paul and I moved into the place during the first week of June, but Jay did not join us until the following week. Jay and I moved all of our stuff last Saturday. We are lucky to have any possessions that survived the move. I sincerely believe that a family could have their house relocated by a raging flood and find their stuff in better order then if Jay and I moved it. There was no deliberation before the move- cats bolt into a new room with a better plan then Jay and I. A sample of our over-sights included packing the keys to our new apartment at the end of truck, behind thirty feet of furniture and clothes, trying to take a couch that can not even fit through the house doors, wrong turns at nearly all opportunities and an adventurous last hour that is probably causing UHaul to rethink their insurance policies. The trip did not begin auspiciously: Jay built the plan around the wrong hours, so we sat in an empty parking lot for over an hour, waiting for the UHaul offices to open. We then blocked traffic in two directions when trying to exit the lot, as Jay cut the turn five lanes wider then necessary. Every one had a look of uneasiness when watching us drive or even enter the vehicle. After over-hearing some of our conversations (”do you want to just load up on gas, down here where it is cheap, and pack it in the back- maybe in a trash can or something”), the UHaul associate nearly pleaded with us to purchase some additional insurance policy and my mom was preparing to withdraw bail money, in anticipation of what would surely be some traffic arrest. That UHaul associate probably felt dirty, after renting a massive vehicle to such visible idiots- like a man who sells a lawn mower with the world’s sharpest, most powerful blades to a blind child. Actually, the UHaul associate was probably encouraged by our only good decision: paying an additional $80 for the insurance coverage. Jay had just completed a drive that stretched across eight states, so a trip to Chicago had almost no challenge, in his view. Hence he hesitated to spend additional money on the insurance policy, but I come from a family that has a much more colorful history with rental trucks, and convinced him to buy the policy. Thus we completed the only know event when Sean Flannery offered driving advice that was actually more reasonable and safe then the initial plan. Truthfully, I should have needed less then a full sentence to convince Jay because, put simply, an internal alarm should ring when ever I tell you that things need to be more careful or planned more fully. If I say some thing like, “you know, I’m not really comfortable with our current plan, maybe we need to be more responsible”, you should stop every thing and really examine recent decisions. I drove a car off the highway, for crying out loud. There are only two types of people who drive cars off the highway in broad day light: stunt men and idiots. Ignoring an appeal to reason or caution by either group is probably unwise. Jay moved all of his stuff into storage before relocating to Arizona, so loading his things was expected to be easy, but, via a continual stream of bad decisions, we complicated the process to the highest possible degree. We attempted to pack boxes into spaces that were sized insufficiently and, when things did not fit precisely, we beat the boxes into a fit. The boxes looked more like beaten, cardboard socks, rather then cubes. Articles that would break by a fall, were taped to other things for support, but the workmanship was atrocious, so the only real accomplishment was assuring that the taped object would now fall along with it, crushing every thing once it reached the floor. Any one who looked into the vehicle would wonder if we understood even the most basic concepts of space, gravity or logic. Our furniture looked like odd, wooden bugs that were trapped in a huge, chaotic web of packaging tape. Nothing made sense- I am surprised that we did not catch ourselves in a net of packaging tape. We finished at the storage facility and, after a failed attempt to load a couch from my sister’s place, started towards Chicago. Our drive through the north-central part of Ohio was smooth, but the trip lost most of its calm when we reached Toledo. We stopped a rest area just after Toledo, drank some beverages, and continued. However, exiting this rest area took nearly two hours after Jay decided to test the towing abilities of our truck by lifting parked cars. When steering out of our spot, Jay dug our bumper into the front wheel hub of a neighboring car. Because of the weight differential, we never noticed the collision, even as we were lifting the other car from the ground. Jay, not realizing that he was now hauling a Plymouth Breeze, completed the turn and started towards the high way. Our bumper dug forward, ripping through the Plymouth’s front side before breaking away and dropping it to the ground. We did hear a suspicious noise when the Plymouth fell, but still had no idea about the cause. However, we immediately sensed problems because every one in the lot was running towards us, motioning their hands back and forth to signal ’stop’. Experience has taught me that groups of people never try to stop a vehicle for trivial reasons, like expired tags or broken tail-lights. My mom and dad once reached the end of the street with Kevin standing on the rear bumper and balancing himself with a ladder at the back of our van. When ever strangers run to your vehicle, frantically signaling you to stop, they probably have information that would interest you greatly. Jay and I exited to discover the source of every one’s concern: we had nearly peeled away the front passenger side of the next car. The car’s owner, who was eating during the commotion, soon joined us in the parking lot with a look of total dejection: apparently he just repaired that side after falling asleep and crashing the car into a parked vehicle. We exchanged information, called UHaul and waited while their claims department processed the incident. Jay was speaking with UHaul on a pay phone, so I was left with this rather peculiar man for almost an hour. He had a very odd look that can not be explained with kind words, so I’ll remain vague, but, to reach the point, he did not look good. He also asked very strange questions after learning my name since his sister just married an Irish man. He wanted to discover what the Irish enjoyed, but he would not ask about any thing exciting- it almost felt like he was just descending through a grocery list: “how about Ranch dressing? Do the Irish like Ranch dressing…. …really? Now, is hard chocolate preferred over soft chocolate?”. It was the most difficult conversation of my life: “yeah, I really don’t know- the Irish are not big on salads…. …I have no idea what type of ceram wrap is used.” Eventually, the claims agent completed the request and we started again for Chicago. Indiana was crossed easily, along with the western part of Illinois, but problems resurfaced as we neared Chicago. LakeShore drive is the most direct route to our place, but I had been told that trucks were not permitted on LakeShore. Jay and I gambled that my information may have been incorrect since a) my source was an alcoholic uncle and b) I am rarely correct, even when quoting experts. For those of you who plan to visit in commercial vehicles, my information was correct: NEVER drive any thing bigger then a Honda on LakeShore. Our truck never occupied less then two lanes on LakeShore and, at turns, we nearly blocked the entire road. Moreover, Jay was not using his headlights, so a deafening shower of horns could be heard in both directions. Have you ever heard the roar created by eight lanes worth of traffic horns? It was like driving through a massive hurricane of human anger. Traffic that was merging with LakeShore was lucky to avoid us: those people would casually merge, thinking every thing was normal, and then narrowly avoid being flattened by rental truck that was occupying three lanes of traffic and cloaked in complete darkness. An oil tanker could rip through the Chicago river at break-neck speeds and probably cause less fear then Jay and I. Jay suggested that we add the UHaul claims department to speed dial on the cell phone with a tone that seemed more serious then joking: “ah yeah, hi. …It’s us. Again. Um, I have question about this insurance plan- we’ve kind had another incident and, uh ….I guess we want to know if this is, um how should I say, an all you can eat policy?”–Drinking– Chicago has impacted my drinking habits seriously. I still drink principally on weekend evenings, so I am not drinking more regularly, but the evenings tend to last longer simply because the bars close two hours later then Cleveland. Thus, I do –on those nights– drink more, because the evening is stretched further. Additionally, beer is priced high when rated against hard liquor. With a tip, beers are often $4 or $5, so I will choose liquor over beer since it can be a savings at times. By staying out later and drinking more liquor, an effect is being generated that can only be described as terrible: my hang overs suck. Alcohol is supposed to kill brain cells, but it actually feels as though it is causing my brain to swell: each weekend morning, it feels as though my brain is scraping against the interior of my skull. As any one learns on the first day of Biology, your brain is not supposed to touch things. Your brain’s best role begins and ends with thinking- it does not respond well when you use it like some gelatinous finger, that you inquisitively squeeze into small places, wondering if it can fit. The flatness of my recent conversation is actually more unsettling then the pain because the uninspired thinking causes me to wonder if the pain is actually being caused by an escape attempt, rather the pure swelling. Perhaps my brain is not swollen, but just searching for an eject button or escape hatch- or maybe even an off-switch, were it can end this torture. After all, a larger brain should be more clever, but I seem to be thinking with the faculties of a five year old who just drank a bottle of white-out: nothing is making sense. It seems as though my brain has finally had enough of every thing and is trying to cut its losses: “ all right, I have looked the other way on a lot of stuff, but this it. I kept quite when you wasted my abilities on comic books or when you tried to use ‘transformeristic’ as an adjective, but I can’t take it any more. Last night you mixed shots of vodka into stranded beers and called it “a beggar’s boiler maker”: I’ve had enough!” Shortly, Amnesty International will probably pursue efforts to free my brain from its painful prison of idiocy. Paul and Jay both enjoyed a week of vacation before starting their jobs, so we have been exploring all the different bars and other social opportunities. In fact Jay, who was always known as my only friend with responsible drinking habits, is now closer to a problem then any of us. He arrives home from each evening, drunk and begging for a burrito- I’ve seen diabetics ask for insulin with less urgency then Jay uses when searching for a late night burrito. Jay’s constant quest for the greasiest possible borrito is especially funny since he has, those incidents withstanding, been rather conscious about his health. Jay’s new job is with Illinois Tool Works, a gigantic holding company for other, small industrial companies. Jay’s recent interest in weight loss was accelerated after learning that he must wear a suit every day. Last winter, I was trying to loose weight for the same reasons: I wanted to avoid the cost of new pants. It seems like Jay and I fear the price of new pants more then the social costs of an ugly body. I believe that if the work force allowed me to wear sweat pants, I may still be a size 38 waist. I would expect the weight loss industry to explore these fears in commercials, but I have seen no such advertisements. Their commercials always talk about the confidence gained with a healthy body and the pleasure of a more active social life. Mine would be concise- a single person speaking to the camera, and marketed for cheap men like Jay and I: “pants: they cost, like $50. Give us a call, fatso.”RSS feed for comments on this post. | TrackBack URI Leave a Comment |
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
