but my city was gone" - The Pretenders, My City Was Gone
I've been back to Ohio since I left in 1992 a few times. First time was in 2004, when we were looking for a different place to go for our anniversary weekend. We returned to Youngstown, and while we were happy to see that the city is trying very hard to rebound, the upper end of Belmont Ave, usually lively and bustling, has been reduced to a ghost town of boarded up hotels and businesses.
Second time was in 2005. We went out to Dan Marino's induction in to the Pro Football Hall Of Fame. Something I promised Nelson we'd do for as long as I've known him. We went to Canton, then down to below Columbus to spend a few days with a family friend, then back up to Canton for the induction ceremony. After that, we went back to......Youngstown for the evening (we couldn't have stayed in Canton if we wanted to - stuff was booked up a year in advance, but we didn't want to then run all the way home). We stayed on the upper end of Belmont Ave, and it was depressing. The hotel was rundown (despite all the information I found online) and they had lost our reservation, then accused me of making it for the wrong day. She chose to make an issue of it, despite the fact that they were largely empty and getting a room was no problem.
We swung by in 2006. We were on our way to Chicago, and we stopped for gas, and hot dogs at Jay's Famous. We also tried swapping out our horrible rental car, but that's a long and frustrating story. Which brings us to the current trip, which we started on April 13.
Let me slide, for a moment, back to the title of this post. I had been familiar with this song for years, but it never had much meaning for me personally until recently. I'd always heard the phrase "you can't go home again" and never really got it. Youngstown Ohio was my home, for 2 years. I left it, largely due to crime and some changes in structure at my university (Youngstown State - GO PENGUINS!!). They had discontinued my chosen program, so that was the final nudge I needed to pack up and go back home. See? I did go home again, and I haven't left this area (in tems of living here) since. But it's not really that simple, and it took me a while to get that.
I'll let Chrissy give me a hand in this. The song starts:
I went back to Ohio
But my city was gone
There was no train station
There was no downtown
South Howard had disappeared
All my favorite places
My city had been pulled down
Reduced to parking spaces
A, o, way to go Ohio
The first time I really listened to this and "got" it, was after my visit in 2004. I immediately thought of the upper end of Belmont. The Ramada? Boarded up. The Motel 6? Gone. Days Inn? Boarded up. Econo Lodge? Boarded up. K-Mart? Boarded up. Giant Eagle? Moved to Boardman. Pretty much the entire Liberty Plaza? Empty - out of business and boarded up. Starvin' Marvin? Still there, but is now just Speedway.
I remember the times when I went out there before I started college. The times when my parents (and later my husband) would come and visit me. We stayed in every one of those hotels. They were easy access off Route 80, which exits at Belmont. The first stop for my dad was Starvin' Marvin, for gas. Then Giant Eagle, to hit their imported beer aisle. Mom and I frequented the Liberty Plaza and the K-Mart across the street a lot. When I moved out there, I continued shopping there. There were nice stores, and the prices were good. Giant Eagle was always a place to get good snacks and stuff for the dorm. To see it all gone just blew my mind.
Well I went back to Ohio
But my family was gone
I stood on the back porch
There was nobody home
I was stunned and amazed
My childhood memories
Slowly swirled past
Like the wind through the trees
A, o, oh way to go Ohio
On that visit, I swung over to YSU - my old home. I didn't recognize it. While it has changed for the better, it was still a shock. The University has purchased a lot of the blighted surrounding areas and turned them in to new facilities, dorms, and whatnot. I walked around campus, and while some things were the same, some were so different. I don't know why I expected to pass people I knew - they're now long gone, having moved away and started their lives as I did. However, in the back of my mind I still expected to see at least one person I knew. It didn't happen. Life out there moved on without me, and as irrational as it sounds, I was a tad disappointed for a brief time.
I went back to Ohio
But my pretty countryside
Had been paved down the middle
By a government that had no pride
The farms of Ohio
Had been replaced by shopping malls
And muzak filled the air
From Seneca to Cuyahoga falls
Said, a, o, oh way to go Ohio
Which brings us to the trip I just returned from. It's well known amongst mall rats and junkies like myself that Ohio is rife with shopping malls - many now dead or dying. It's one thing that I absolutely loved about it. Many people don't understand my somewhat odd affinity for malls both healthy and dead. I'm not alone, but most of my immediate circle of family and friends just don't get it. I went to the Cleveland area to meet up with a friend (incidentally, a friend who loves malls as I do) who lives in California but is looking to relocate to Cleveland. We decided to take a day to hit up two dead mall gems we were aware of in the area. I may have been to the one at one time, but I couldn't be sure. The other one was one I had spent a lot of time at. It was a huge beautiful mall. Great architecture, great stores, and a fantastic sculpture that hung from the ceiling at center court. When I first met my husband, neither he nor I had much money. We spent a lot of time over there, just hanging out, people watching, and hitting up the penny candy store (how I miss The Candy Tree). The first thing he ever bought me came from that mall - a gold bracelet with my name on the front, and his on the back - and yes, I still have it. What I saw upon arrival just broke my heart.
I'd heard the horror stories about how bad it had gotten, but nothing prepared me for what I saw. The operative phrase for the day was "What happened?". Nelson will accompany me on my mall junkets, ususally just to get out of the house, but even he was saddened to see it. He just kept shaking his head, and looking at my friend and saying "We used to fight for parking spaces here. It was unusual to see an empty storefront, and it ususally filled back up again soon. Some stores had locations on the first and second floors." We did our part in keeping it open another day by buying a few things. In some ways, it would be better to just demolish the place, but the place hasn't been updated since it was built in 1976, and it has some fantastic architecture, and it would be a crime to tear it down (and this is an issue I have with the demolition or extensive remodeling of a lot of malls).
So I get it now. You really can't go home again. Not to the times that you remember, anyway. When I reflect on it, the area here has changed drastically as well in some terms, but stays the same in others. They can take my city and my malls, but at least they can't take my memories. I get it, but I don't have to like it.
There's a great video on Youtube that I have linked to here that shows the sad state of both of the aforementioned malls, and an additional mall that I've not been to (and the person who posted it has some other great videos as well). Coincidentally, they chose "My City Was Gone" to illustrate this. The first mall, Rolling Acres, is one I know about but have never visited. The second one, Randall Park, is the one the just crushed me. The third, Euclid Square, was the other one we visited, which gives new meaning to the term "Dead Mall". There's a Montgomery Ward sandwiched in there - I'm not sure where that one was located, and it doesn't say. Watch, and "enjoy", and ignore the comments left that are a bit rude..........
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Monday, April 2, 2007
Bring On April!
**I started this on April 2nd and saved it as a draft. I finally published it almost 2 weeks later, so sorry for the confusing date conflicts**
March was craptacular at best for so many reasons that I'm glad to see it gone.
April hasn't started the best. I had a reaction to a medication I was prescribed. Despite being a fuller figured person, I've been lucky with my health. All of a sudden on April Fool's Day, of all days, I started in with chest pain and heartburn. As the day went on, it didn't go away. I rarely have heartburn. This was not normal. All indicators appeared to be a gastro problem, common with this medication, but everything also said to go to the hospital to rule out a heart attack.
I spent several hours in the Geisinger Emergency Room. It was worth it for the peace of mind of knowing that not only was it NOT a heart attack, my heart and cardiovascular system is excellent right now. My blood pressure is also good. I've been working out, and recently hit a 10% reduction of my overall body weight, and I've now surpassed it. My doctor adjusted the dosage, and although it took the better part of 10 days, I now feel better in that regard.
I spent Good Friday in Connecticut, at the Mohegan Sun. My first experience with a full-scale casino. My mom has been hitting them for years (although not this one), and after a day there, I can honestly say that I have absolutely no idea how people can spend hour after hour locked in there. Seriously. It's dark, and cold, and smoky. I was there to see a concert, and had a good time, and the casino itself is aesthetically beautiful, but gambling is not my forte.
Ray (Nelson's step-dad) came up from Allentown and went out to eat with us on Easter Sunday (Me, Nelson, Mom, and Dad). He found some of Nelson's dad's paperwork and brought it along. It was enlightening to say the least. We had no idea of any of the stuff associated with that. We found out his dad was a sharpshooter in the marines, had bunch of step-brothers and step-sisters, and was a "Jr". We also found out the name of his parents, and the search is on to try and finally get the family tree traced - hopefully. Turns out his dad's unusual name is a lot more common than we thought.
Hopefully with feeling better, I can get my butt back on track to updating this more often. I often groan when I go to a blog I enjoy and see that it hasn't been updated in ages. Pot calling kettle, line 2.......
March was craptacular at best for so many reasons that I'm glad to see it gone.
April hasn't started the best. I had a reaction to a medication I was prescribed. Despite being a fuller figured person, I've been lucky with my health. All of a sudden on April Fool's Day, of all days, I started in with chest pain and heartburn. As the day went on, it didn't go away. I rarely have heartburn. This was not normal. All indicators appeared to be a gastro problem, common with this medication, but everything also said to go to the hospital to rule out a heart attack.
I spent several hours in the Geisinger Emergency Room. It was worth it for the peace of mind of knowing that not only was it NOT a heart attack, my heart and cardiovascular system is excellent right now. My blood pressure is also good. I've been working out, and recently hit a 10% reduction of my overall body weight, and I've now surpassed it. My doctor adjusted the dosage, and although it took the better part of 10 days, I now feel better in that regard.
I spent Good Friday in Connecticut, at the Mohegan Sun. My first experience with a full-scale casino. My mom has been hitting them for years (although not this one), and after a day there, I can honestly say that I have absolutely no idea how people can spend hour after hour locked in there. Seriously. It's dark, and cold, and smoky. I was there to see a concert, and had a good time, and the casino itself is aesthetically beautiful, but gambling is not my forte.
Ray (Nelson's step-dad) came up from Allentown and went out to eat with us on Easter Sunday (Me, Nelson, Mom, and Dad). He found some of Nelson's dad's paperwork and brought it along. It was enlightening to say the least. We had no idea of any of the stuff associated with that. We found out his dad was a sharpshooter in the marines, had bunch of step-brothers and step-sisters, and was a "Jr". We also found out the name of his parents, and the search is on to try and finally get the family tree traced - hopefully. Turns out his dad's unusual name is a lot more common than we thought.
Hopefully with feeling better, I can get my butt back on track to updating this more often. I often groan when I go to a blog I enjoy and see that it hasn't been updated in ages. Pot calling kettle, line 2.......
Thursday, March 29, 2007
As The Dust Settles
from the events of the past two weeks, I get a chance to sit, and catch my breath, and think (which can be dangerous - lol).
Nelson is at peace with his mom's passing. Through death, she's been able to give him something - a chance to heal. He'd been doing well with letting go of his burdens - namely the physical and mental scars of his relationship with her. Wanting to run from her because of her treatment, but wanting to cling to her because she was the only birth parent he had left. He had given a lot of his burdens up, but he was stuck on a few. Now, it makes no sense to continue to have ill feelings toward someone who is no longer here, and can no longer hurt him.
She's also made something else possible: a relationship with family members who were all estranged - namely his brother, and step-sisters. I love Jason to pieces - I always wanted a brother (or sister for that matter), but whenever conflict came up, Jason automatically sided with his mother - no matter what. This drove a wedge between the two of them, and she honestly did nothing to help matters. This was the first we'd seen him in a good number of years. I was expecting the same old, but we were pleasantly surprised. While he still has a lot of growing up to do (even at age 29), I think he realizes what is important. At the funeral, Nelson went up to Jason and put his arm around him. He said "We've gotta stick together. We're all we have left." And while he meant no disrespect to his step-father, I think Jason got the message, as he nodded, and put his arm around Nelson.
We were able to open up a dialogue with his two step-sisters as well, and they finally felt like they were able to clear the air, and a lot of misconceptions about past events, and see that they were really all in the same boat. The younger of his step-sisters, Toni, said it best when she said "Sometimes, it takes the kids to break the chain of violence". Truer words were never said.
Nelson is at peace with his mom's passing. Through death, she's been able to give him something - a chance to heal. He'd been doing well with letting go of his burdens - namely the physical and mental scars of his relationship with her. Wanting to run from her because of her treatment, but wanting to cling to her because she was the only birth parent he had left. He had given a lot of his burdens up, but he was stuck on a few. Now, it makes no sense to continue to have ill feelings toward someone who is no longer here, and can no longer hurt him.
She's also made something else possible: a relationship with family members who were all estranged - namely his brother, and step-sisters. I love Jason to pieces - I always wanted a brother (or sister for that matter), but whenever conflict came up, Jason automatically sided with his mother - no matter what. This drove a wedge between the two of them, and she honestly did nothing to help matters. This was the first we'd seen him in a good number of years. I was expecting the same old, but we were pleasantly surprised. While he still has a lot of growing up to do (even at age 29), I think he realizes what is important. At the funeral, Nelson went up to Jason and put his arm around him. He said "We've gotta stick together. We're all we have left." And while he meant no disrespect to his step-father, I think Jason got the message, as he nodded, and put his arm around Nelson.
We were able to open up a dialogue with his two step-sisters as well, and they finally felt like they were able to clear the air, and a lot of misconceptions about past events, and see that they were really all in the same boat. The younger of his step-sisters, Toni, said it best when she said "Sometimes, it takes the kids to break the chain of violence". Truer words were never said.
Monday, March 12, 2007
It Only Takes A Minute
for your life to change drastically.
Today started like any other day. It was about 9:30am, and I was settling in for another slow-season mundane day. My phone rang. A quick check of the screen showed it was the person at the front desk calling me. I thought she was calling with a question on something, so I finished my task before picking up.
"You have a call on line 1" she said. "It's a (insert name of my step-father-in-law here)".
"Oh" I said. "He's probably calling to shoot the breeze. I'm honestly not in that kind of mood this morning".
"Well, do you want to be busy right now? I can take a message" she said.
I thought about it, for a moment (I was at work and did have things to do), and then told her no, I'd take the call. I picked up and did my standard phone introduction. I heard his familiar "Hey" on the other end. Then silence. I could hear him breathing oddly, and he was fumbling for what to say. I got a little concerned. I waited for him to continue.
He said, "Where's Nelson?" I replied that he was at work. His voice started to quiver a bit, and he was breathing harder. He said, "I need you to find him for me....." as he trailed off. I've heard this before. It's usually followed by "(Insert name here) passed away". I start running down a list of names in my mind, and find that most have been the subject of this type of phone call already. Before I can finish my mental checklist, he finds the strength to finish his sentence. "I need you to tell him his mother........she's...........passed away".
He barely got it out before he lost it. I sat at my desk in stunned silence. "What?!?" I said. He just replied "yeah". The next minute was just an exchange of basic information in the form of short sentences.
Me: "When?"
Him: "Sometime last night."
Me: "What happened?!?"
Him: "Went to sleep. Didn't wake up."
Me: "Ok. I can't believe this."
I had to gather my thoughts. I just started rambling. "It's ok, it's going to be ok. I'll find Nelson. It may take me a while. I'm not sure where exactly he is. I'll have him call you, ok? Give me your phone number and I'll have him call you but it might take a little while." He gave me the number and I hung the phone up. I sat there for a minute. My co-workers (my mom among them) saw something was wrong. I looked at them all and said "My mother-in-law just died". They also sat in stunned silence. This prompted another Q&A session.
Them: "How old was she?"
Me: "She never said much about it. Between 55 and 57."
Them: "Was she sick?"
Me: "Her health isn't the best, but she wasn't in her last days or anything."
Them: "Wow. Just, wow."
Me: "Yeah".
Then came the part I was dreading. I broke the news to him before. My grandpa, his Aunt Doris and a few other family members, but this is a biggie. I was in no way prepared for this. My actions were going to change his life forever, and not for the better. I called up to the shop, but I asked for his boss instead. He informed me that Nelson was out on fleet maintenance, and had complained he wasn't feeling well (he'd been sick all weekend) and was going home. He knew something was wrong, and I informed him of what happened. I again had a similar exchange as I did with my coworkers. I said that I thought I'd wait until he got home, then run home and tell him what was happening. He agreed it was a good idea.
I had no sooner hung up the phone, when my direct line rang. I answered it. It was Nelson, calling from the road. I panicked. He was in a fairly good mood. "Can you do me a favor?" he says, going in to detail as to what he needed. I was quiet. He had to ask me twice. He kept asking me what was wrong, and I kept pushing it off. I told him I called the shop for him and they told me he was going home. He confirmed that. I told him I needed to talk to him, but I'd rather wait. After another minute or two of give-and-take, I finally let it out. There was some stunned silence, and more of the same two or three word sentences. I offered to come and get him. He declined. He said he was going to tie-up some loose ends, and he'd stop by the office before he went home to get his dad's phone number. We then went to lunch to just kind of take it all in and think about it.
So this is where the story ends, or so it seems. If only it were that easy. Most people who know us know that the relationship he and his mother had was anything but normal. The home she provided was an abusive and tumultuous one. Verbal insults and frequent beatings were the order of the day. I witnessed first hand that it seemed no matter what you did, she was never satisfied. He struggled to keep her happy. And then I came along.
With her being the consummate control freak, I got in the way. He no longer had to listen to her. He moved in with my parents and saw how a different family dynamic worked. He began to become more and more impatient with her and her way of life. Things between them got more and more strained. By the time we got married, it was a powder keg, and that was that catalyst that set it all off in the form of an ugly screaming match that had me worn to a frazzle, and resulted in him not speaking to her for upwards of four years.
He had trouble dealing with things that were done to him, so he just stuffed them, and it got worse and worse. Last year, I finally got him in to a good counseling program (and a word to the wise - if you can afford it, go outside of your health insurance system for the best programs). Their approach is a bit non-traditional, and lightly Christian based, but it's made a tremendous difference. When he stopped to see her last week (when he was at the meeting at corporate), he said he actually managed to have a nice visit using the tools they taught him. I thank the big guy upstairs for that. His last memory is at least a positive one.
So this is the situation I find myself in: I don't know how to grieve for her. I find myself caught between sadness and a demented form of relief, which turns in to guilt, and runs a vicious cycle. I keep telling myself that she was a tortured soul, and that I hope that in death, she finds some peace. Hopefully I can keep telling myself that, and I'll start to believe it. Until then, all I can do is help Nelson through this time. Despite everything, nothing changes the fact that no one should have to be an orphan at 33 (well, 34 next month). I can't imagine how that feels.
Today started like any other day. It was about 9:30am, and I was settling in for another slow-season mundane day. My phone rang. A quick check of the screen showed it was the person at the front desk calling me. I thought she was calling with a question on something, so I finished my task before picking up.
"You have a call on line 1" she said. "It's a (insert name of my step-father-in-law here)".
"Oh" I said. "He's probably calling to shoot the breeze. I'm honestly not in that kind of mood this morning".
"Well, do you want to be busy right now? I can take a message" she said.
I thought about it, for a moment (I was at work and did have things to do), and then told her no, I'd take the call. I picked up and did my standard phone introduction. I heard his familiar "Hey" on the other end. Then silence. I could hear him breathing oddly, and he was fumbling for what to say. I got a little concerned. I waited for him to continue.
He said, "Where's Nelson?" I replied that he was at work. His voice started to quiver a bit, and he was breathing harder. He said, "I need you to find him for me....." as he trailed off. I've heard this before. It's usually followed by "(Insert name here) passed away". I start running down a list of names in my mind, and find that most have been the subject of this type of phone call already. Before I can finish my mental checklist, he finds the strength to finish his sentence. "I need you to tell him his mother........she's...........passed away".
He barely got it out before he lost it. I sat at my desk in stunned silence. "What?!?" I said. He just replied "yeah". The next minute was just an exchange of basic information in the form of short sentences.
Me: "When?"
Him: "Sometime last night."
Me: "What happened?!?"
Him: "Went to sleep. Didn't wake up."
Me: "Ok. I can't believe this."
I had to gather my thoughts. I just started rambling. "It's ok, it's going to be ok. I'll find Nelson. It may take me a while. I'm not sure where exactly he is. I'll have him call you, ok? Give me your phone number and I'll have him call you but it might take a little while." He gave me the number and I hung the phone up. I sat there for a minute. My co-workers (my mom among them) saw something was wrong. I looked at them all and said "My mother-in-law just died". They also sat in stunned silence. This prompted another Q&A session.
Them: "How old was she?"
Me: "She never said much about it. Between 55 and 57."
Them: "Was she sick?"
Me: "Her health isn't the best, but she wasn't in her last days or anything."
Them: "Wow. Just, wow."
Me: "Yeah".
Then came the part I was dreading. I broke the news to him before. My grandpa, his Aunt Doris and a few other family members, but this is a biggie. I was in no way prepared for this. My actions were going to change his life forever, and not for the better. I called up to the shop, but I asked for his boss instead. He informed me that Nelson was out on fleet maintenance, and had complained he wasn't feeling well (he'd been sick all weekend) and was going home. He knew something was wrong, and I informed him of what happened. I again had a similar exchange as I did with my coworkers. I said that I thought I'd wait until he got home, then run home and tell him what was happening. He agreed it was a good idea.
I had no sooner hung up the phone, when my direct line rang. I answered it. It was Nelson, calling from the road. I panicked. He was in a fairly good mood. "Can you do me a favor?" he says, going in to detail as to what he needed. I was quiet. He had to ask me twice. He kept asking me what was wrong, and I kept pushing it off. I told him I called the shop for him and they told me he was going home. He confirmed that. I told him I needed to talk to him, but I'd rather wait. After another minute or two of give-and-take, I finally let it out. There was some stunned silence, and more of the same two or three word sentences. I offered to come and get him. He declined. He said he was going to tie-up some loose ends, and he'd stop by the office before he went home to get his dad's phone number. We then went to lunch to just kind of take it all in and think about it.
So this is where the story ends, or so it seems. If only it were that easy. Most people who know us know that the relationship he and his mother had was anything but normal. The home she provided was an abusive and tumultuous one. Verbal insults and frequent beatings were the order of the day. I witnessed first hand that it seemed no matter what you did, she was never satisfied. He struggled to keep her happy. And then I came along.
With her being the consummate control freak, I got in the way. He no longer had to listen to her. He moved in with my parents and saw how a different family dynamic worked. He began to become more and more impatient with her and her way of life. Things between them got more and more strained. By the time we got married, it was a powder keg, and that was that catalyst that set it all off in the form of an ugly screaming match that had me worn to a frazzle, and resulted in him not speaking to her for upwards of four years.
He had trouble dealing with things that were done to him, so he just stuffed them, and it got worse and worse. Last year, I finally got him in to a good counseling program (and a word to the wise - if you can afford it, go outside of your health insurance system for the best programs). Their approach is a bit non-traditional, and lightly Christian based, but it's made a tremendous difference. When he stopped to see her last week (when he was at the meeting at corporate), he said he actually managed to have a nice visit using the tools they taught him. I thank the big guy upstairs for that. His last memory is at least a positive one.
So this is the situation I find myself in: I don't know how to grieve for her. I find myself caught between sadness and a demented form of relief, which turns in to guilt, and runs a vicious cycle. I keep telling myself that she was a tortured soul, and that I hope that in death, she finds some peace. Hopefully I can keep telling myself that, and I'll start to believe it. Until then, all I can do is help Nelson through this time. Despite everything, nothing changes the fact that no one should have to be an orphan at 33 (well, 34 next month). I can't imagine how that feels.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
So Today Is The Day To Rant About Sexism
I have to be very honest and say that I don't experience it a lot in my personal life. I get most of it at work, and not from the company I work for, but some of our customers. A friend of mine once wrote "Some people are so ate up with the dumbass that it's not funny". Whether he invented that phrase or borrowed it is a mystery for me, but it always gives me a chuckle.
A lot of our clientele are male. We deal with athletic goods, some for a sport in particular that, while slowly becoming a "uni-sex" sport, is still largely male. Testosterone city. But that's OK. I love my job, I love the company I work for, and I love what I do, and for the most part, my customers are great. Every now and then, however, you get that one that just needs a reality check.
For example, the other day I was dealing with a company that I hadn't dealt with before. They sent in some scant information, and I got confused as to what they wanted, and consequently faxed them the wrong information back. I got a phone call from someone who worked there, with a head of steam on. He wouldn't let me finish a sentence. He frequently insulted me, telling me to get my head on straight and how could I not understand the obvious - and other niceties like that. Every time I tried to point out to him that the information he gave me was confusing at best, I was instructed to get my act together. Finally, unable to deal with him, I transferred him to someone else, hoping they'd be able to handle it better. They were equally insulted, I was insulted a little more for good measure, and then he transferred her to someone else who insulted her. As if that wasn't bad enough, she was then transferred back to the original insulter, who was asking her to do things she's not allowed to do so that it would work in his favor. She continually said no. He finally relented.
Two days later, he called back again. The person I transferred him to during his previous phone call answered. He was again requesting that we do things we aren't allowed to do. She again told him no. When he refused to budge, she transferred him to the manager. She explained the whole thing, and gave the manager a heads-up that he's not a nice guy. He said he'd handle it. After the call ended, he came out and we asked him how it went. He said the guy was NICE AS PIE to him and when he told him no to his request, he said OK and that was the end of it. We were both ready to pull our hair out.
It's a sucky fact of life that most women, even those in power, are treated differently than men. Most men would rather speak to another man, and will give them more respect. I can call a customer who is not being very helpful in the process at work a dozen times with no return call. I can be nice, I can make threats - doesn't matter. I turn it over to my production or traffic manager (both men) and they call back right away. It hardly ever fails.
We've discussed this in staff meetings. All of our front-line office staff are women. All but one of our next "level" of staff are men. They know the games that are played, and are always eager to help out and fix a situation for us. While we appreciate that, we shouldn't have to hand it off to someone else just to get a simple question answered.
What should it matter whether you give your answer to a man or woman? Honestly, you'll get the job done faster if you go direct to me. Going around me only makes the information have to flow through someone else, upping the risk of having something get lost in the translation, and lengthening the time that it takes for the information to be finalized. It also takes time away from someone who shouldn't have to be dealing with the problem in the first place.
But hey, what do I know?
A lot of our clientele are male. We deal with athletic goods, some for a sport in particular that, while slowly becoming a "uni-sex" sport, is still largely male. Testosterone city. But that's OK. I love my job, I love the company I work for, and I love what I do, and for the most part, my customers are great. Every now and then, however, you get that one that just needs a reality check.
For example, the other day I was dealing with a company that I hadn't dealt with before. They sent in some scant information, and I got confused as to what they wanted, and consequently faxed them the wrong information back. I got a phone call from someone who worked there, with a head of steam on. He wouldn't let me finish a sentence. He frequently insulted me, telling me to get my head on straight and how could I not understand the obvious - and other niceties like that. Every time I tried to point out to him that the information he gave me was confusing at best, I was instructed to get my act together. Finally, unable to deal with him, I transferred him to someone else, hoping they'd be able to handle it better. They were equally insulted, I was insulted a little more for good measure, and then he transferred her to someone else who insulted her. As if that wasn't bad enough, she was then transferred back to the original insulter, who was asking her to do things she's not allowed to do so that it would work in his favor. She continually said no. He finally relented.
Two days later, he called back again. The person I transferred him to during his previous phone call answered. He was again requesting that we do things we aren't allowed to do. She again told him no. When he refused to budge, she transferred him to the manager. She explained the whole thing, and gave the manager a heads-up that he's not a nice guy. He said he'd handle it. After the call ended, he came out and we asked him how it went. He said the guy was NICE AS PIE to him and when he told him no to his request, he said OK and that was the end of it. We were both ready to pull our hair out.
It's a sucky fact of life that most women, even those in power, are treated differently than men. Most men would rather speak to another man, and will give them more respect. I can call a customer who is not being very helpful in the process at work a dozen times with no return call. I can be nice, I can make threats - doesn't matter. I turn it over to my production or traffic manager (both men) and they call back right away. It hardly ever fails.
We've discussed this in staff meetings. All of our front-line office staff are women. All but one of our next "level" of staff are men. They know the games that are played, and are always eager to help out and fix a situation for us. While we appreciate that, we shouldn't have to hand it off to someone else just to get a simple question answered.
What should it matter whether you give your answer to a man or woman? Honestly, you'll get the job done faster if you go direct to me. Going around me only makes the information have to flow through someone else, upping the risk of having something get lost in the translation, and lengthening the time that it takes for the information to be finalized. It also takes time away from someone who shouldn't have to be dealing with the problem in the first place.
But hey, what do I know?
Saturday, March 3, 2007
Yikes - I have been neglecting this big time!
February just kicked my rear end this year. It was just one of those months where it's one thing after another. It should be a law that there is a limit of one of those a year. If it was, I'd be set from here on out. ; ) A long time ago, I was told that old adage of "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade". I've been trying to stick to that, and I stay a little saner.
For starters, February is the month where we finalize all of our stuff for the major state and national high school and college tournaments that we sponsor and are suppliers for at work. I usually get stressed to the max. Every day brings the same things, and as you can imagine, it gets redundant. Requests for a count to see if we've met the needs of the individual tournaments yet in terms of units they will require. Each one has it's own requirements - not just with the number of units, but the style, size, color requirements, etc. Requests for an update on the readiness of items to be moved in to production. Other requests too numerous to mention right now. Thankfully, that is all over, as tournaments are going on right now, and will be for the next few weeks. While it's nice to return to the more leisurely pace this time of year brings at work, it's an even greater satisfaction to turn on the television, and see something you had a hand in creating go live coast-to-coast on a major network. My proudest moment was when something I had a hand in creating ended up in a centerfold style picture in Sports Illustrated (and not the swimsuit issue....).
Nelson got a promotion two weeks ago to Service Manager, and he's been a bit keyed up about it. He's nervous about how to handle things - he's never been in a position like this. Thankfully he's only got 2 guys working at the shop right now, and that will give him a chance to get used to it before they expand sometime later this year. When he first worked with his boss a number of years ago for a different company, he (his boss) said to me one day "He'll be running the shop someday. He's got the know-how". Little did I know then that day would eventually be here. I'm very proud of him. He goes to his first big meeting at corporate Monday and Tuesday. He's nervous and excited at the same time, and I'm happy for him. It's a nice recognition for all the hard work he's put in over the years, both for the previous years they worked together and the present.
And speaking of Nelson and the company he works for, we had a bit of a shocker this past month. We have two vehicles; a 1992 Mazda B2600i pick-up that Nelson uses to run back and forth to work, and a 1997 Dodge Peel-on, er, Neon, which is my car, and a long standing sore subject between me and the dealer who sold it to me. BTW, if you live in my area here in Central PA, do your research before you buy anything from a certain Dodge dealer who has 2 locations, one across the river from the other. They have their name on the dealership, and tell you that you'll drive away with a smile. Sure. At any rate, we've had that pick-up for about 10 years now, and because of a bad deal with the Neon, we ended up putting a large sum of money in to it to fix some mechanical problems because we couldn't afford another car payment. We made the decision to run it until it fell apart. We've been enjoying life without a car payment for the past year. Nelson called me at work about two weeks ago and said "Um, the truck is toast". Figuring that it blew up again or something, I said "What happened?". He said "Well, I'm away from the shop doing a fleet maintenance when I get a call from Rick (the boss). He said that they were inside, and heard a tremendous roar, and then a loud bang. They ran outside, and saw all the snow and ice (from a bad snow storm we got) fell off the roof and landed on not only my truck, but 3 other vehicles. I guess it's pretty bad". He was laughing, but I wasn't. He called me when he got back to the shop. The snow caved the roof in pretty good, and caused some minor damage to the hood, and totally smashed the windshield. They pounded up the roof so he could drive it, and replaced the windshield so he could at least get it back and forth to work.
They told us to get an estimate. It was $1300. Kelley Blue Book is $1270. The company decided to cut us a check as the truck would be considered a loss. I offered to sign it over to them, but they didn't want it. We decided to start looking around for a car, as we'd have a nice down payment to keep the financing affordable. We weren't in any hurry. Then the truck started running "funny". I don't know if it sustained some mechanical damage we didn't know about, or if it is just time for it to die, but it got a little more urgent. We had wanted a Dodge Stratus, and found one at a lot of a local non-Dodge dealer who is well established. As I learned with the Neon, however, that doesn't always mean anything. That Dodge dealer had come highly recommended to me.
When I called down to inquire about it, the gentleman who answered the phone gave his name, and it was a slightly unusual variation of a relatively common name. We talked, and when I hung up, I said to Nelson "I went to school with a guy who went by that name. It's a little unusual." and left it at that. When I stepped in to the showroom, I realized that it wasn't a coincidence. It was the guy I graduated with. Inside, I groaned a little. My high school was one large conglomerations of cliques, and I've spent the years since trying to get away from it. Many of the kids had very well-off parents, and used that influence for personal gain. Don't get me wrong - I had my fair share of friends, but there were a lot of jerks there as well who loved to remind you that they felt they were better than you. This guy wasn't one of them, but he also wasn't a friend either. We ran with different crowds.
I said right away "We graduated together." He kept looking at me, but said he couldn't place me - even after I gave him my name. We had a class of about 130 kids, and I was surprised, but not everyone has a knack for remembering mundane details like I do. While we were on a test drive, he said to me "Did you always have short hair?" I said "I did in middle school, but in high school I had long, very big and poofy hair." He immediately said "I remember you know - you were in the program for smart kids (gifted program), on the debate team, and in the band". I said "Yep, I was a geek." I used to hate that label, but I own it now. I'd rather be remembered as a geek than a jerk. Nelson and I left and discussed it. They were asking too much money for a 2002 car for the mileage it had. We decided to go back in and push for a lower price, or an extended warranty. They wouldn't budge - even after we got a mechanic friend to call in and tell them that it has the same engine as the Neon, and the same associated problems. The look on his face when we said "No deal" saddened me. I saw him in a different way.
We chatted while Nelson stepped outside to plot our next move. He told me about his life in the military after high school and his travels. About his little boy who lives about an hour away with his mother. He smiled when he said it was his weekend to have him. I saw the cute little guy's picture up in his cubicle. I took a quick mental stock of the situation. As I mentioned previously, while we weren't friends, I wouldn't lump him in to the group "enemies" either. I saw him as a guy trying to earn a decent living to provide not only for him, but his little boy. He was trying. Rather than walking away, which is what I thought Nelson would do next, I asked him if he could show me something else. I had really wanted to stay Dodge, but this was not a Dodge lot. It was a Kia lot. I thought maybe I could do better if I "went native". His eyes lit up when I said that.
He found us a nice 2004 Kia Spectra that had less mileage than the Stratus, and has the balance of it's factory warranty - 24 months. We decided to buy it. It'll be paid off in 3 years or less. I felt good. I needed a new vehicle that wouldn't break me, and I got him a nice sale. I told him when I left today with my car that part of my job is sales, and I understand. While I earn straight pay and don't work off commission (as I'm sure he does), I know how the game is played, and I'm glad I could help out. He thanked me, and said he was going to go spend time with his little boy. And now I have a nice new "toy". We're hoping to sell the truck privately for a few hundred - it's worth it in parts alone. If it doesn't go in the next 2 weeks, we're going to take it to auction. I know it'll sell there. It's still running, albeit a tad roughly from time to time. It'll make a nice vehicle for someone who can do their own mechanical work. We have a nice start for them in terms of new parts we put in to it.
To close out the month, I went back to the gym after being cleared and released by my surgeon. Instead of the YMCA (which charges outrageous rates), I joined a local community center. The rates are better, and the facilities are not only comparable, they're more modern. I am enjoying my return to aquacise. It's doing wonders for my arthritis, but I'm pooped and my muscles are sore (which is actually a good thing). I challenge anyone who thinks that aquacise is a waste of time to come on down and work out with me and the old ladies. The community center has lots of sessions, but I go Tuesday and Thursday from 7:30-8:30pm. Weights will be provided. Be prepared to not stop moving the entire time.
For starters, February is the month where we finalize all of our stuff for the major state and national high school and college tournaments that we sponsor and are suppliers for at work. I usually get stressed to the max. Every day brings the same things, and as you can imagine, it gets redundant. Requests for a count to see if we've met the needs of the individual tournaments yet in terms of units they will require. Each one has it's own requirements - not just with the number of units, but the style, size, color requirements, etc. Requests for an update on the readiness of items to be moved in to production. Other requests too numerous to mention right now. Thankfully, that is all over, as tournaments are going on right now, and will be for the next few weeks. While it's nice to return to the more leisurely pace this time of year brings at work, it's an even greater satisfaction to turn on the television, and see something you had a hand in creating go live coast-to-coast on a major network. My proudest moment was when something I had a hand in creating ended up in a centerfold style picture in Sports Illustrated (and not the swimsuit issue....).
Nelson got a promotion two weeks ago to Service Manager, and he's been a bit keyed up about it. He's nervous about how to handle things - he's never been in a position like this. Thankfully he's only got 2 guys working at the shop right now, and that will give him a chance to get used to it before they expand sometime later this year. When he first worked with his boss a number of years ago for a different company, he (his boss) said to me one day "He'll be running the shop someday. He's got the know-how". Little did I know then that day would eventually be here. I'm very proud of him. He goes to his first big meeting at corporate Monday and Tuesday. He's nervous and excited at the same time, and I'm happy for him. It's a nice recognition for all the hard work he's put in over the years, both for the previous years they worked together and the present.
And speaking of Nelson and the company he works for, we had a bit of a shocker this past month. We have two vehicles; a 1992 Mazda B2600i pick-up that Nelson uses to run back and forth to work, and a 1997 Dodge Peel-on, er, Neon, which is my car, and a long standing sore subject between me and the dealer who sold it to me. BTW, if you live in my area here in Central PA, do your research before you buy anything from a certain Dodge dealer who has 2 locations, one across the river from the other. They have their name on the dealership, and tell you that you'll drive away with a smile. Sure. At any rate, we've had that pick-up for about 10 years now, and because of a bad deal with the Neon, we ended up putting a large sum of money in to it to fix some mechanical problems because we couldn't afford another car payment. We made the decision to run it until it fell apart. We've been enjoying life without a car payment for the past year. Nelson called me at work about two weeks ago and said "Um, the truck is toast". Figuring that it blew up again or something, I said "What happened?". He said "Well, I'm away from the shop doing a fleet maintenance when I get a call from Rick (the boss). He said that they were inside, and heard a tremendous roar, and then a loud bang. They ran outside, and saw all the snow and ice (from a bad snow storm we got) fell off the roof and landed on not only my truck, but 3 other vehicles. I guess it's pretty bad". He was laughing, but I wasn't. He called me when he got back to the shop. The snow caved the roof in pretty good, and caused some minor damage to the hood, and totally smashed the windshield. They pounded up the roof so he could drive it, and replaced the windshield so he could at least get it back and forth to work.
They told us to get an estimate. It was $1300. Kelley Blue Book is $1270. The company decided to cut us a check as the truck would be considered a loss. I offered to sign it over to them, but they didn't want it. We decided to start looking around for a car, as we'd have a nice down payment to keep the financing affordable. We weren't in any hurry. Then the truck started running "funny". I don't know if it sustained some mechanical damage we didn't know about, or if it is just time for it to die, but it got a little more urgent. We had wanted a Dodge Stratus, and found one at a lot of a local non-Dodge dealer who is well established. As I learned with the Neon, however, that doesn't always mean anything. That Dodge dealer had come highly recommended to me.
When I called down to inquire about it, the gentleman who answered the phone gave his name, and it was a slightly unusual variation of a relatively common name. We talked, and when I hung up, I said to Nelson "I went to school with a guy who went by that name. It's a little unusual." and left it at that. When I stepped in to the showroom, I realized that it wasn't a coincidence. It was the guy I graduated with. Inside, I groaned a little. My high school was one large conglomerations of cliques, and I've spent the years since trying to get away from it. Many of the kids had very well-off parents, and used that influence for personal gain. Don't get me wrong - I had my fair share of friends, but there were a lot of jerks there as well who loved to remind you that they felt they were better than you. This guy wasn't one of them, but he also wasn't a friend either. We ran with different crowds.
I said right away "We graduated together." He kept looking at me, but said he couldn't place me - even after I gave him my name. We had a class of about 130 kids, and I was surprised, but not everyone has a knack for remembering mundane details like I do. While we were on a test drive, he said to me "Did you always have short hair?" I said "I did in middle school, but in high school I had long, very big and poofy hair." He immediately said "I remember you know - you were in the program for smart kids (gifted program), on the debate team, and in the band". I said "Yep, I was a geek." I used to hate that label, but I own it now. I'd rather be remembered as a geek than a jerk. Nelson and I left and discussed it. They were asking too much money for a 2002 car for the mileage it had. We decided to go back in and push for a lower price, or an extended warranty. They wouldn't budge - even after we got a mechanic friend to call in and tell them that it has the same engine as the Neon, and the same associated problems. The look on his face when we said "No deal" saddened me. I saw him in a different way.
We chatted while Nelson stepped outside to plot our next move. He told me about his life in the military after high school and his travels. About his little boy who lives about an hour away with his mother. He smiled when he said it was his weekend to have him. I saw the cute little guy's picture up in his cubicle. I took a quick mental stock of the situation. As I mentioned previously, while we weren't friends, I wouldn't lump him in to the group "enemies" either. I saw him as a guy trying to earn a decent living to provide not only for him, but his little boy. He was trying. Rather than walking away, which is what I thought Nelson would do next, I asked him if he could show me something else. I had really wanted to stay Dodge, but this was not a Dodge lot. It was a Kia lot. I thought maybe I could do better if I "went native". His eyes lit up when I said that.
He found us a nice 2004 Kia Spectra that had less mileage than the Stratus, and has the balance of it's factory warranty - 24 months. We decided to buy it. It'll be paid off in 3 years or less. I felt good. I needed a new vehicle that wouldn't break me, and I got him a nice sale. I told him when I left today with my car that part of my job is sales, and I understand. While I earn straight pay and don't work off commission (as I'm sure he does), I know how the game is played, and I'm glad I could help out. He thanked me, and said he was going to go spend time with his little boy. And now I have a nice new "toy". We're hoping to sell the truck privately for a few hundred - it's worth it in parts alone. If it doesn't go in the next 2 weeks, we're going to take it to auction. I know it'll sell there. It's still running, albeit a tad roughly from time to time. It'll make a nice vehicle for someone who can do their own mechanical work. We have a nice start for them in terms of new parts we put in to it.
To close out the month, I went back to the gym after being cleared and released by my surgeon. Instead of the YMCA (which charges outrageous rates), I joined a local community center. The rates are better, and the facilities are not only comparable, they're more modern. I am enjoying my return to aquacise. It's doing wonders for my arthritis, but I'm pooped and my muscles are sore (which is actually a good thing). I challenge anyone who thinks that aquacise is a waste of time to come on down and work out with me and the old ladies. The community center has lots of sessions, but I go Tuesday and Thursday from 7:30-8:30pm. Weights will be provided. Be prepared to not stop moving the entire time.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Such Is The Lonely Life
of a tire widow. It was about a year ago that my husband decided to get back in to the tire game - something he swore he'd never do again - after a 5 year absence. While the tire game had largely been good to him, the company he hooked up with had not. It didn't start out that way, but changes in structure and management led to a rapidly deteriorating environment.
He left for what he thought were greener pastures. We couldn't have been more wrong. He was promised so much, but so little was given. He briefly left there to try his hand at something else, but again, restructuring lead to problems, not only for him but several others working there, including my dad. Needing a job, he reluctantly returned to the not-so-greener pastures, and the next few years were a challenge. When you're truly miserable in your work, it makes life hell. I've been there myself.
I was happy in his return to the world of tires. It's something he knows and something he's good at. He decided not to fight it anymore. It also allowed him to return to the employ of the man who taught him everything he knew about tires his first time around. He had also had left the company before Nelson did, citing similar reasons. He was someone we trusted. The company had a lot to offer, and it was a done deal.
Returning to the tire world does bring one unpleasant side effect: the road service call. Like the mail service, neither rain nor snow nor gloom of night keeps the truck drivers of the world from making their appointed runs, and getting blown tires. At any time of the day or evening, including weekends and holidays, the Nextel Cell Phone will play it's annoying little ditty, and it's time to go. Tonight, it went off at 8:30. Destination: somewhere on Interstate 180 to replace two blown tires. Sometimes it's close, like the Sheetz on the strip, and sometimes it's far away, like Laporte. Most of the time it involves getting in one of our vehicles, and driving up to the shop - about a 15 minute drive - where the service truck is loaded, and the call commences. Most of the time he's gone anywhere from 2 hours to 4 hours.
It does have it's perks. It's guaranteed double time, and guaranteed 2 hour minimum. The downside is that when you're on call, you have no life. It will never fail - the moment you leave to go somewhere, the phone rings. You also get little sleep. I didn't used to mind it so much the first go-round. I was allowed to go along, and I frequently did. We kept each other awake, and we kept each other company, and in the event that there was no driver around, I was there to call for help if he needed it, and was unable to call himself. This time, however I'm not allowed to go - insurance regulations and all that, so I worry.
It's a trade off, though. He's happy at this job. He's well paid and well treated. He's about to get a nice promotion. The occasional annoyance is deal-able. Besides, the diploma from Firestone University is worth it's weight in gold...... :D
He left for what he thought were greener pastures. We couldn't have been more wrong. He was promised so much, but so little was given. He briefly left there to try his hand at something else, but again, restructuring lead to problems, not only for him but several others working there, including my dad. Needing a job, he reluctantly returned to the not-so-greener pastures, and the next few years were a challenge. When you're truly miserable in your work, it makes life hell. I've been there myself.
I was happy in his return to the world of tires. It's something he knows and something he's good at. He decided not to fight it anymore. It also allowed him to return to the employ of the man who taught him everything he knew about tires his first time around. He had also had left the company before Nelson did, citing similar reasons. He was someone we trusted. The company had a lot to offer, and it was a done deal.
Returning to the tire world does bring one unpleasant side effect: the road service call. Like the mail service, neither rain nor snow nor gloom of night keeps the truck drivers of the world from making their appointed runs, and getting blown tires. At any time of the day or evening, including weekends and holidays, the Nextel Cell Phone will play it's annoying little ditty, and it's time to go. Tonight, it went off at 8:30. Destination: somewhere on Interstate 180 to replace two blown tires. Sometimes it's close, like the Sheetz on the strip, and sometimes it's far away, like Laporte. Most of the time it involves getting in one of our vehicles, and driving up to the shop - about a 15 minute drive - where the service truck is loaded, and the call commences. Most of the time he's gone anywhere from 2 hours to 4 hours.
It does have it's perks. It's guaranteed double time, and guaranteed 2 hour minimum. The downside is that when you're on call, you have no life. It will never fail - the moment you leave to go somewhere, the phone rings. You also get little sleep. I didn't used to mind it so much the first go-round. I was allowed to go along, and I frequently did. We kept each other awake, and we kept each other company, and in the event that there was no driver around, I was there to call for help if he needed it, and was unable to call himself. This time, however I'm not allowed to go - insurance regulations and all that, so I worry.
It's a trade off, though. He's happy at this job. He's well paid and well treated. He's about to get a nice promotion. The occasional annoyance is deal-able. Besides, the diploma from Firestone University is worth it's weight in gold...... :D
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