I
COULD WRITE A BOOK
A
recent cartoon showed a father rejecting the idea of taking his daughter to his
workplace because he does not want her to discover first hand how insignificant
his job is. This matched my own belief. Looking back at my “career,” it seems
most of my work consisted of performing numerous piddling activities, which, at
the time, my employer thought to be relevant and even important in the great
sphere of business activities.
In
1999, ten years after my retirement, SRP
invited me to attend a reunion. The event attracted some 600 guests. It crossed
my mind to take a poll to find out how many other retirees felt similarly, that
we had labored for years at mostly meaningless tasks. The results might be
valuable because tonight I will be having dinner with Phyllis, widow of John
O’Malley, one of my closest working companions who died six months ago. What
had we accomplished while working together?
What has remained of our association that could be of significance to
her? Did my files contain some
meaningful memorabilia? Join me in looking through my file drawer.
What
can be seen? One folder holds
correspondence related to personnel issues and grievances. Another folder
contains photographs of me and other employees. Yet another contains copies of
my travel expense reports to exotic places like Boise and El Paso. My collection also includes some
payroll records and copies of my letters written in the last nine months of my middle
management position.
Why are these records still in my home? I retained
them on the premise that one day they might help prompt me to write stories
about my years of corporate employment. Over time, the material has become increasingly
of less interest to me. However, on this
particular rummaging, some documents captured my attention, stirring up old
emotions, including anger. Later, I smile and laugh at the foolishness of it
all. “Would-coulda-shoulda” scenarios play out in my recollection. After a few
minutes, I dump everything back into the drawer to await some future review for
a story inspiration.
It appears I learned my main skill in the
business world not at school or on the job, but in the playground. Few players matched my youthful skill playing the
game of Dodge BalL. Being shifty as
all get out, other players found it difficult to hit and eliminate me from the
game. In the workplace, this is known as exhibiting survivor skills. I dodged
my way through 39 years of corporate employment until the ball hit me. It
didn’t hurt my feelings when the game ended.
The documents in this drawer are rich fodder
for my autobiography. Many of my vignettes are based on my work experiences.
The yarns flowed readily because many of my co-workers were unusual people
whose antics spiced my recollections of those interesting but not quite
fulfilling years.
On
this occasion, before returning everything to dead storage, I removed a picture
of the widow, her husband and me, taken while we were attending a conference at
Del Coronado, enjoying the lavish hospitality of a large corporation. She might
appreciate my giving it to her,
Was
this trip a boondoggle, you ask?
No.
This was a reward for my superior and outstanding job performance that
year,
What
exactly did I do?
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