Write Up Your Alley

The next week I am ushered into Cock Bombay’s office to meet with him and an Assistant Manager who, I am informed, is present as a witness to what is about to go down.  This is rarely a good sign.

“Mr. Jason, do you recall working on the day of the June 10?” 

“I don’t know, did I?”

“You did, and do you recall taking the lunch break?”

“I usually do.”

“And you are familiar with the Code of the Business Conduct training class.”

“I take it every year.”

“On the June 10, you clocked out and continued to work on the floor.  We see here in the tapes that you stayed on the floor to help the customer while you were off the clock.  Then, you finish with the customer, you do the clock back in and you go to the back to eat your lunch.  You eat your lunch on the clock and this is absolutely a wiolation of the Code of the Business Conduct as it pertains to the time clock.  So here is the final written warning.”

It is work watching him talk his way through it.  I am relieved when he finishes and resist the urge to congratulate him on getting the words out.  I look at the paper.  Final Written Warning.  I think about all the time it must have taken to coordinate my time cards and search for my behavior on the corresponding surveillance tapes.  It's almost flattering to think that I might be worth these hours of wasted work.  It's like an outlaw seeing his "wanted" poster and pleasantly nodding at the bounty amount below.  Not bad, guys.  You really went above and beyond on this one.  The write up is signed by Cock Bombay and the Bobble Head.  I take his word for it, politely refuse to sign anywhere and take my final written warning and walk back to the sales floor.

I get it, it's against the rules to clock out, work through your lunch break, clock back in and then eat.  I've been doing this ever since our store was put on high alert for an unusual amount of Untaken Meal Breaks.  By sacrificing my well-deserved hour of penalty pay, I am now holding onto a slim sheet of paper representing all that separates me from unemployment.

No good deed...

If there weren't a continuous line of people waiting for assistance, I would gladly take my lunch break at noon, instead of waiting until after helping customers accomplish what they need to do on their lunch breaks.

No good deed...

I'm not so selfless that I wouldn't take the extra hour of pay the Company owes me in these instances.  I'd love to take their money.  Legally, I am owed that money.  It's just not worth it to me to have this store, MY store on that list of reports and in the hot seat that follows.

No good deed...YES, I KNOW BROOKLYN!  NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED!

I get back to my computer, unlock the screen and the Assistant Manager walks up to my side.
"Hey.  Sorry about that."
"Yeah, it's cool.  It's not your fault."
"But...um...one more thing we forgot to mention."
"Yeah?"
"The...uh...United Way campaign.  Did you donate to that?  We need the entire district on 100% fulfillment and there are only a couple of stores that aren't at a hund..."
"Stop."  The anger chokes my throat and I clear it.  I set my hands to the side of the keyboard, grab the counter and hold on.  I squeeze.
"Please...just...stop."
"Well, we need to get to one hundred percent participation in the store."

I look coldly, through his eyes, into his dumb skull.

"I'll do it,"  I lie, managing to keep the curse words from splattering all over his face.
"Cool, thanks."

COOL?  THANKS??

Oh yeah, man, we're totally cool.

I log into the United Way campaign portal and enter my employee number.  My suggested donation is one dollar per paycheck for the year.  I can also give a one-time payment with credit card or I can...a-ha...mail them a check.  I click the final option, print out the donation form and refresh the screen that now says "Thank you for your participation in Operation 'United' Front!"  I take a second to mutter the curse words at the computer instead.  I exit the screen and go to read the next name from the list.

Sorry, United Way, I don't think the check will make it.  You see, I've already learned a valuable lesson about good deeds today.

Harder, better, faster, stronger (Part 2)

Brooklyn has an uncomfortable way of dealing with those who complain.  I watch him with no small amount of envy as he reads the next name from the list:

"Lisa?"
"Yeah, I got a letter in the mail saying I get a free booster or something."
"Okay, do you have the letter with you?"
"No."
"Well, we need the letter in order to scan the barcode on it."
"Well I don't have it with me and I'd rather not have to go find it."
"Okay, let me just look up your address to see that they sent you one."

Oh shit, you didn't think we could do that, did you?

"Hmmm....I don't see it anywhere in the system saying that they sent you a letter."  He leans back and flaps open a newspaper from the previous week.  It's the same paper he's been 'reading' every day now.  It's the paper with either a major tragedy or an unfortunate story painted all over the front page.  He flaps it as he waits for Lisa to begin her grievances.

"I don't get any service in my house.  My neighbor got a letter saying that they get a free minicell, so why shouldn't I?"
"Uggh, did you see this?" he folds the paper and points to the catastrophe on the front page as he goes on "terrible," then a beat, "sorry, so you were saying you didn't get the letter, right?  You can still get one, but they're $200 dollars."
"I...um...no.  And I don't think I should have to spend $200 on a cell booster when I pay you guys for service I don't get."
Brooklyn nods at her silently, holding her eye contact.
"I agree."
"What?"
"I agree that you shouldn't need to spend $200 on a minicell booster in order to get service in your house."
"So, you're going to give me one for free?"
"Oh no, not at all," he opens the paper so that Lisa can once again be reminded of the death/destruction/misfortune on the front page, "I just agree that there are better ways to spend your money."
"WHAT?! What are you talking about?  I came in here to get a booster for my house so I CAN MAKE PHONE CALLS." She drives home the last few words for the hard-of-hearing imbecile she  assumes she's talking to.
"Well, see, now we're back to that $200 dollars because we can't just give 'em away.  They cost almost that much to build, so it's a very strict list that gets the letter.  I suppose there's a chance that your letter hasn't arrived yet, but I wouldn't want to get your hopes up."
"This is ridiculous.  This is SOOOO unfair."
"I know," Brooklyn leans back into his newspaper one final time and shakes his head, "and to think there were children involved."


I'm not saying it's right.  It's totally wrong.  If I didn't know the guy and the fact that he donates a generous amount of his money and time to those less fortunate, I'd say this is a callous and cynical way of using a tragedy to remind others of their blessed lives.  But people like Lisa never even see the paper in front of them, just the obstacle of a human being preventing them from doing and getting what they want.

Harder, better, faster, stronger (Part 1)

What happens when your priority is to put a network-guzzling phone into the hands of every Angeleno?  Shrinkage happens.

From the be-careful-what-you-wish-for files, come this latest unforeseen blunder.  In the race to offer the latest smart phone that a network has no business trying to support, the coverage in Los Angeles, and many cities around the nation, has shriveled up like a constricted river in a devastating drought.  The water levels have dropped so low that people have forgotten that there was a time their phones would work in parking structures, in every room in their house, in a crowded football stadium.

And this is why the phone companies don't make money.  "Wait, what?" you say, "look at my bill!?!?"  Oh trust me, they're spending all that money as soon as they can get it.  They're all in debt trying to hang on to what subscribers they have while they dump any profits into either the network or advertised lies about the network.  The companies are grasping at any claims they can find by any reporting company brave enough to publish findings.

Don't you wonder how it is that EVERY cell phone service provider's network is either the:
a) largest,
b) strongest,
c) fastest,
d) most reliable?

It's because, depending on
a) the week,
b) the markets included in the study,
c) what those words mean,
d) who is getting paid to say it,

they all are.

"Largest" could mean most cities covered.  It could also mean most people or most land.  But what good is it if the most filled-in coverage map of the country is providing service to tumbleweeds?
"Strongest" could mean any one of the other three.  It's a good vague catch-all.  "Fastest" could refer to data speeds that could also result in your call ending the fastest when you fall off the mythical 4G network.  "Most reliable" is a nice way of saying that you settled for a good, hard-working provider that could never be confused with "sexy."

My Company changes the game plan every month now, depending on what the marketing team can come up with.  I swear, if we took a year off of advertising, stopped sponsoring the Football stadiums, EVERY basketball game, music awards and parades, we could put all that money into keeping thousands of people connected to their phone calls.
But the people want those commercials telling them that they're in the right relationship.  They love to see their phone company trash the other ones, don't they? They need that confirmation bias.

If these networks are all so great, why are we spending money developing ways to get people off them?  Why are we suddenly offering a minicell that connects to your home internet instead of the cell network and creates a mini network in your own house?  Oh, better yet, and PLEASE GOD ANSWER ME THIS, why did we send letters to thousands of people saying they could get one of these minicells for FREE???  And how did we not know that they would tell their neighbors, who did NOT get a letter, that they got it for free??? AND WHY AM I IN CHARGE OF ANSWERING THESE WHINEY PEOPLE WHO DID NOT GET A LETTER AND WHO REFUSE TO PAY THE $200 TO GET ONE OF THESE MINICELLS???

If it sounds like I'm shouting, it's because I am.  I'm screaming at the top of my lungs...on the inside...while you complain about the service in your home and that your neighbor got a letter and you didn't.  I'm screaming inside because it's no use screaming at the Company and it's no use screaming at you (even if you do sounds like a petulant child).  You'll never understand as you sit there telling me "it just isn't fair."  But really, of all the aforementioned superlatives used in our marketing campaigns, we never made claims to being the fairest.

Harper Ave.

I read the next name from the list.  “Liz?”
“Ughh.” She exerts herself from the floor and crosses to where I am standing.
“I can’t believe you don’t have any chairs in here.”
“I know,” I smile, “but don’t worry.  My shift is only for another 6 hours.”

Startled by either my brazenness or the realization that she would be dealing with another human being today, Liz labors to spit out what it is that brought her all the way through our doors to the cold hard sales floor and eventually to me.  If I were a betting man, and I am, I would wager that poor Liz is here to discuss the lack of service in her home.  Usually these claims by Liz and her neighbors sound similar to one of the following:

I get, literally, no service at home.

I can’t make a phone call to save my life. (perhaps also literally)

My friends get reception on their phones when they come over and I’m 

embarrassed to say that I don’t. (you shouldn’t be, it’s not your fault)

Why am I paying for service that I can’t even use?

Los Angeles is not the most socially gracious of towns.  People don’t always greet one another upon passing and, I am loathe to admit, in place of this greeting, we are probably trying to figure out a) if we know you b) if we should know you c) if you should be categorized as friend/foe, talker/walker or hipster/homeless.  

Harper Ave has become the exception.  

On Harper Ave, as the sun begins to set and folks get home, the local citizens walk outside and chat in front of their houses.  They pace the lawn, sit on the porch, wave at one another as they pass.  The wind blows softly through the trees as the scene for Our Town takes shape and people appear to be friendly, neighborly, almost Southern.  In the evenings on Harper Ave, the people come together in a way they never have before.  They gather on the streets and meet in their yards because none of them can get any cell phone service in their houses.  So they wave at one another as they carry on with the conversation they are having through the device in their other hand.  If it weren't for our lack of coverage, they may never see one another.  Hey, when the Phone Company promised to connect you to your world, they never said how they would do it.  

My first years of convincing people they could afford a cell phone often hinged on the argument that they could save that money by getting rid of their landlines.  "Why would you want a stationary phone when you can take yours wherever you go?"  It made sense and we believed it.  I swear, cell phone reception used to happen inside buildings.  Over time, quantity has surpassed quality and The Company has begun boasting about the number of people they cover instead of how well they cover each one. 

"We cover 97% of all Americans..." boasts a poster hanging in the windows of our retail store location.  There is a confusing explanation in the fine print that could be much clearer to the average person if it simply continued, "...so long as they’re standing in the middle of the street."

Cell Phone Etiquette

It shouldn't be up to me and I realize I might be imposing my opinion where it is not wanted, but I have some observations on the subject of cell phone etiquette that I feel strongly about.  Having worked with cell phones during the decade of their Manifest Destiny, I've seen how they change people and how they change lives.  I'm not over-dramatizing that, either.  Times have changed and, to paraphrase Bob Dylan, "Oh shit! They flipped the script!"

I started thinking about this with a list of rules for cell phone etiquette, but then realized that a general guideline with some social examples might sound less didactic.  Either way, and at the risk of receiving countless who-asked-you-anyway's, I'll take a stab at starting the discussion.

The cell phone is the most socially disruptive invention of our lifetime. Sure, there's the internet.  The internet has changed the way we socialize, but where and how are you using the internet most of the time, ehh? The needle has moved and the answer is "mobile."

Other notable innovations that have changed our behavior:
The television--replaced radio as the hub of home entertainment, also changed entertainment, but we still organize most of our social life around it, not through it.
The car--replaced the mule.
The plane--replaced the hot air balloon.
The microwave--replaced...the bigger wave.

But cell phones are running away with our attention and we need to take back a little control.  In the wake of this tidal wave of technology, we have yet to come to an understanding of what is socially acceptable and how we should be using these devices.  The schools of thought are legion and they are loudly expressed all around us, every day.  As a general rule, I maintain that:

You may use your cell phone however you like, but if you are doing so in the presence of other people, you are expressing your preference to be otherwise engaged.

That is it.  Read it again.

Examples:
1) If you are texting(now a verb.  Social change: 1 point) someone "Happy New Years!! xoxo", you are telling those around you that you'd rather be ringing it in with someone else.  You are also pluralizing "year" inappropriately, but that's a different subject.

2) If you have "glow face" at a concert, play or performance in a setting that has its own spotlights that are NOT MEANT TO BE ON YOUR DEAD-EYED FACE, you're telling those on stage, that "there's something better going on down here."
         a) "Glow face" is not flattering, you radioactive zombie.
         b) When you do this, you are begging the rest of the room to look at what an asshole you are.

3) Remember ring tones?  Yeah, stop that.
         "But I customized a song for everybody in my phone!"
          Oh, so you'd rather have a dance party with that person than talk to me? Thanks, byeee!

3b) "Vibrate" and "Silent" are your friends.

Bonus rules(because I can't seem to stop):

4) Make plans and stick to them.  Too much accountability has been lost under the umbrella of “call me when you’re close” or “we’ll figure it out.”  Your word should be stronger than your signal.  Make a date, select a time, keep them both.

5) You do NOT need your phone at dinner.  "But, but!"  Nope!  Shut it.

6)  It is better to excuse yourself from the table or conversation and retreat to the restroom for a voicemail/text message check.  Gentlemen, despite recent attempts at denouncing the art of phone-checking at the urinal, I find this to be totally acceptable.  In fact, this is efficiency at its utmost.  Not only are you respecting those you left at the table, you look significantly less idiotic than when you’re either staring at the wall 12 inches in front of you or down at your own johnson.  Ladies, do your thing.

7)  Lastly, let’s all extend the grace period for a returned phone call to what it once was.  It can be a day.  Yes, I see that you called and left a message.  I'll get to it--that's called good time management.  If it's urgent, I'm sure you'll call again....and text....and post it on my wall.

Cell phones are sold as additional safety measures because that's an effective tactic.  I know, because when the adoption rate was lower, I used fear to get you to buy one.  They were specifically marketed  to make us feel safe.  The byproduct of this is that now we freak out if we don’t hear back from someone within minutes.  “Where were you, I was so scared” should not be the result of a few minutes.  99.9% of the time, no news is good news.  Relax.


One final rule of thumb (call it a hope) to illustrate my point of view.  Wouldn't it be cool if you never saw your friend's phone?  I mean, when does this need to happen?  Maybe yours goes dead and you 'need' to borrow it.  Maybe the discussion has legitimately turned to the purchase of a new device and it's time for show and tell.  Maybe a photo needs to be taken. Your friend pulls out their non-bedazzled mobile computer and you are a little surprised by it.

I think that would be cool.  I think I would like to live with people who master their technology and are not mastered by it.  I think I would like to be with those who say, so loudly with their actions, "you are important to me right now."

TANSTAAFP!

It is also at this time that I am notified that, through phone sales, training and feature attachment rates, I am to be gifted my very own A-phone.  I am cautiously excited as I read the fine print:  Because I am in the top one percent of sales reps to sell the most A-phones along with a superbly high Feature Per Opportunity number with them, I am to be given a company-owned 3rd generation refurbished A-phone for use with my company-owned phone line.  Three years and four models into offering the A-phone and they finally decide to give us some product to try out so that we can speak somewhat intelligently when we're selling them.  My place in the top tier of sales reps has earned me last year’s model...reconditioned...to be returned to The Company upon my leaving it or when I get my next phone.  This gift horse doesn't even have a mouth.

Well, why not?  I guess I should try using this phone I’ve been selling for three years.  The only reason I haven't is because to do so would have meant that I would have had to sign up for my own monthly service plan to use it.  Until now, I would have had to pay some $80 per month plus a couple hundred dollars for the phone if I wanted to use the A-phone.  And even if my coworkers and I had bought one at full price, up until this latest contest victory none of us were permitted to use the A-phones on our company-owned lines.  So it's kind of a big deal even if it shouldn't be.

The e-mail instructions read that I am to contact my direct manager to see about getting the A-phone for company use.  So let's see what my favorite person is up to.  I'm getting used to watching his hands rub his face these days and I can't seem to let another go by without witnessing him squirm.  I walk up to Cock Bombay while he is getting some air on the floor.  He is patrolling the grounds with his Assistants and I see that he is in a somewhat jovial mood.

“Mr. Bombay?”

“Mis-ter Jason.  What’s up, brother?”

“Well, I got this e-mail saying I should see you about getting that refurbished A-phone for use on my company line.  Can I get that from you?”

“Um....well....give me couple of days to figure that out.”

“A couple of days? Here, I printed out the e-mail that says you already have the phone."
I offer the sheet of paper but he does not accept, instead he closes his eyes and repeats,

“I just need couple of days to figure something out.”

“Cock Bombay, are you going to fire me?”

I can't help it.  I have to ask the most obvious question that comes to my mind.

He takes what looks like it is going to be a deep breath, but he figures out what to say before he needs the whole thing.

“Saying goes, Manager doesn’t fire the people, the people fire themselves.”  Then, perhaps mistaking my silent confusion for my wanting to hear more inspirational quips, he continues, “Also, the people don’t quit the job, they quit the boss.”

I take immediate advantage.

“I can't quit you, Cock Bombay.”

The nearby assistant manager turns bright red at the none-too-subtle reference that a guy like Cock Bombay would never catch.  There is no chance he knows any lines from Brokeback Mountain.  C.B. had once admitted to me, proudly, that he has only been to see one movie in the last four years.  He took his kids to see The Chipmunks 2: The Squeakuel...on Christmas Day.

So what is it he has to think about?  How much he's going to fire me?  I guess he's in a little bit of a pickle, given my recent behavior and how I am perceived by the clientele and corporate headquarters.  In the same week I:

1) leave work because I feel like it and a loophole in the rules allows me the opportunity,
2) receive commendation for my positivity in a nation-wide newsletter from the CEO,
3) aggressively taunt my boss,
4) join the top 1% and win the most highly sought after phone in a sales contest.

What do you do with a problem like Mr. Jason?

Thinking about it, it's the kind of duplicity that the Company should be used to by now.  This staff has learned an example from the products we sell daily:
*Employees are not guaranteed to work in all locations.  Years of service may be spotty.  Reception may be cold, infrequent and laced with sarcasm.  Much like cell phones to customers, we are the necessary evil the Company can't live without.  Sorry, Mr. Bombay, you may want to get a new employee right now, but you may have to wait a year before you're eligible to do so.  Any other questions?  Have I resolved your issue today?  Would you recommend me to your friends and family?

He goes into his office, seals the chamber and (I imagine) proceeds to rub holes into a well-worn forehead of frustration.

THE e-mail

It takes three years plus a few days more than it should have, but this launch goes off without incident.  We absolutely kill it.  The backend systems manage to continue working throughout the day and it takes us most of the 14 hours to work through the ample inventory we have.  Somehow, between pre-order day and rescheduled launch day, the system has been fixed to the way it should have been all along.  I am stunned as DOPUS responds with the agility, grace and responsiveness of a top tech company site.

I am so pleasantly surprised that I decide to write an e-mail expressing my elation.  I decide that it is to be, above all, a very positive e-mail.  I will ignore everything that has gone wrong and focus my energies in a more productive, uplifting way.  

“To whomever it is I owe such a great debt of gratitude,” I begin with the enumeration of my feats for the day and how surprised I am that transactions have gone through so seamlessly.  I conclude with my imploring to forward my e-mail to all of those deserving of its appreciation.  I talk about how great a day our store has had and that I am sure someone was put in charge of setting in motion the “magical hamster wheels” responsible for such an incredible day.  We all work open to close, but this time it feels like the blink of an eye.

I am proud of how the e-mail turns out.  It is so inspiring, I feel its spirit is exactly what is needed to infect a company that has grown so negative.  I finish reading the whimsical, positive words and I navigate my mouse to the TO: line and began adding names.  First Cock Bombay, then the Bobble Head, then The Weasel and then, why-the-hell-not, The Bulldog.  Before I can second-guess my instincts, I press “SEND.”  What's the worst that could happen?

The following day, I get an e-mail response from a technical advisor in Atlanta thanking me for taking the time to acknowledge their efforts.  Awesome!  It seems my email has been forwarded across the nation and has been making its way back in a huge way.  In fact, hundreds of e-mails come back to me, thanking me for the thanks.  Amazing how that works.

It is such a relief to be a part of such a positive movement.  I look around at my coworkers wearing their smiles and I realize how much of our souls have been missing from this place.  It has been so long since any of us have felt cause to celebrate.  This is, indeed, a momentous occasion.  Halfway through the day and those hundred e-mails, I get one from the Weasel. He asks me for my photo.  I am informed that I am to be quoted in the CEO’s blog the following month and they want a picture of me for the piece.  Everyone is responding to me about the e-mail.  Everyone but the Bobble Head and Cock Bombay, that is.  There is no response from the house-cleaners who are trying to force me out the door.  Why so silent?  Since I can't send a selfie into the VP for usage in the CEO's blog, I decide to enlist a little help from another smiling party.

I walk up to Cock Bombay.  “Hey, will you take my picture so I can send it to The Weasel?”  His head cocks and his face melts.

“Uh...sure.  Why?”

“Oh, I guess I’m going to be featured in the CEO’s blog next week and he wants my picture.”

“Oh...um....congratulations, brother!”  The words lumber out of his mouth like drunks at closing time, grabbing onto anything they can hold, stumbling passed a newly forced smile.  I see the thought process behind his beady eyes and I instantly know what is happening.  This is the face of a man who has just put in papers to write me up...to fire me.  The lack of response from both he and the Bobble Head to my initial e-mail was my first clue.  Those are the only two who would know about the write-up so far.  Watching his brain bake over this latest news further confirms my suspicions.  And, man-oh-man, is his brain working overtime.  If only there were a script he could follow to use in this scenario.  If only the Union could intervene on this labor violation of overused synapses.  If only Del Taco offered coupons for free help in figuring out this new quandary.

How would he be seen for writing up and firing the hero of the CEO’s blog?  
He tells me to get an assistant manager to take the photo and rushes into his office.  It is too late.  The paperwork is already there.