September

What a weird September.

At work:

A friend of mine who is professionally competent and beloved of his underlings gets a crappy review and is asked to step down and be just a regular Joe Schmo. He is fine with this until he is told he is going to get a pay cut of anywhere from $2 to $3.  Come again?  Did I mention how much the customers love this guy?  No?  Well, he is constantly getting positive email from customers who know him by sight and by name.  Why the demotion?  He isn't a horrible boss and has never written up anyone.  Why hasn't he? He doesn't need to write anyone up.  We just naturally have his back and do as he asks, because he's a good guy.

Then, he decides he'll step down.  After his decision is made, THEN he is told "well, we don't have room on the payroll for this many full time employees."  What? Gee, witholding valuable information from the employee making the decision...that sounds ethical.

Also, for a company who prides itself on ethics...why hire in a full time employee in a management position all the while knowing there was no money in payroll for such a thing?  Because the puppet master knew he was going to demote someone and ask them to leave.

The puppet master is also leaving. I don't care anymore. I thought I would, but now, seeing exactly how sneaking, manipulative and UNETHICAL he can be, I don't give a flying fuck.  I wish I could prove to HR just how unethical this entire situation really is...why can't I?  Because I'm not supposed to know any of it or my job would be in jeopardy. 

Why so secretive?  Because for a company who prides itself on its ethics, there are none.  Wouldn't it be awful for all the people who love to shop at the store to find out how ruthless, unethical, and Nazi-like the corporation really is? 

Maybe I'll get a less greedy, sneaking manager. I've had two of those before.  Or maybe I just need to go back to the nowhere of America where people aren't just out to see if they can go back to "fix" an old store for an $100,000 a year pay raise.

Guess what my raise, by the way, I was lucky to get a raise-- was?  29 cents an hour.  I will almost earn $9.25 an hour.

What the hell is your annual salary oh Puppet Master? 

And then.....

A friend of mine had a barn burn down.  He has burns on his hands and face from trying to rescue horses from the barn.  One didn't make it.  His house almost caught on fire.  He is apparently off (on vacation!) this week but is expected to miss another week of work so the burns can heal. 

Jon was so sickened to hear this that he immediately went into rescue mode.  He put his prized Fender up for sale so we could donate the proceeds to our friend.  As far as I was concerned, he'd never want to sell that thing.

My cousin's man, Denny, wants it.  I have given them Jon's phone number in case he can think of any questions to ask because there are a multitude of things I don't know about guitars.  I really don't want buyer's remorse to be in my family life.  There are lots of things about this, money transfer (we're thinking pay pal) and then shipping. We live in Michigan, they live in southern Ohio...as Southern as you can get, Cincinnati.  We'll ship it if they'd like, but I also offered to drive it to my parent's house (also a 5 hour drive for someone from Cincinnati)  if they'd like. 

We'll see. I'd like to help Tim.  He has always been good to me.

And also....

Jon has not been dealing with his grandmother's death at all, I don't think. He says he's fine. I still don't think he's fine.  He's been going off the deep end about not being able to do enough to help Tim, and about how horrible things are happening to such good people.  I wish I could help him.  Death and I are well-acquainted.  But everyone has to come to their own terms with death.

This is the first death of someone who was close to Jon.

I don't know how this will go.

Four years ago I couldn't walk past the open casket of my dad's mother and the stupid undertakers didn't like that I just couldn't and that I wouldn't.  I'd had to stare at her body for over an hour during the service and for some reason I just couldn't walk up there.  The undertakers looked disgruntled and I just burst into tears and Jon shuffled me outside and away.  Not that anyone in my family thought any the worse of me for it...I just couldn't follow the stupid funeral home protocol...so I broke their fascade of conformity.

There is no conformity in death. Each death is different, personal.  The ordered formal bits of the service did not comfort me nor did the prayers the preacher offered...they sounded hollow and empty...because nothing of them was my Grandmother.  She was not formal and she was not conformist.

So I don't know what Jon will take away from the ceremony.  I will never really know.  Just as he'll never know what I've taken from the funerals I've attended.

 Here's hoping for a much much better October.