Quick Holiday Note

Financially, we've all suffered. The fact is, the powers-that-be can't keep us swaddled in cashmere and sexy leather shoes (or food or insurance. . .whatever is more important to you) all year every year. At this time last year, we were not prepared for how much we would have to scale back. . .nor were we prepared to confront how utterly SPOILED we'd been for the past several years. You know. . .when people could afford to sue other people and not worry about how much it was going to cost them. We whined when they took away the exotic coffee choices. We fussed when they moved to wooden stirrers and took away the flavored creams. We bitched when we found out that the new financial plan for the firm took away our parking privileges - we would pay a portion of the cost of parking until the end of 2009; afterwards, we'd be ponying up for the whole thing. Parking is a hot commodity where I work. It used to be a bargaining chip. "So. . .you'll pay for my insurance? How about my parking? No? Oh. Sorry. This isn't going to work out. . .")  Had we only known that at the end of the coming 12 months, two people would lose their jobs and no raises were immediately forthcoming in the next fiscal year (the first time in my career that I'd ever gotten anything less than a 6% raise. Ever.), we might've kept our mouths shut about the f**king creamers.

 

So, when the damning news of "no raises for the staff" spread across the ranks, reactions varied. Some of us, who have had the privilege of riding the gravy train for the last decade of litigious goings-on, were like "Hmm. Interesting. O.K. Sucks, but whatever." Some people were more. . ah. . .vocal. They're angry, scared and some of them took it personally. I mean, I think credit needs to be given to the kings and queens of the castle - they've kept all but two of us employed this year, so at least we have our jobs, right? Some people don't.

 

Both my father and step-father LOST their jobs to varying degrees earlier this year. During the interim, I was panicked and had terrifying visions of having to move my entire extended family into my house, Walton's style. . . except I don't have a kick-ass farmhouse on a mountainside. I have a shitty, three bedroom brick ranch in the suburbs. And I can't cook. Or clean. Or sew. Or do any of those awesome Walton-y things that depression era red-heads did way back then. (Although, I have perfected the art watering down and shaking the shampoo bottles to get the LAST. . .EVER . . .LOVIN'. . .DROP out of the bottle. . .) Thankfully, they survived. . .in their own homes. Well, my dad had to downsize to an incredible degree in what was likely a very humiliating move for him. It still breaks my heart to think of him dealing with the losses he dealt with this year. A man his age should FINALLY be wiping the sweat off of his brow and kicking back to go fishing or some such shit. Not is the case with my dad. He'll be hawking cars for five more years. . .if he's lucky.

 

But that's how this year has gone. We're over-performing just to remind our employers that we're valuable; working overtime for free. They aren't taking advantage, we're all just in a panic to show-off all that we can do.

And now, it's Christmas. . .

 

And because of this sweet little holiday, on my desk is a treasure trove of various "thank yous" from the higher-ups here at my firm. I have a tin of home-made peanut butter fudge, a gift card to a fabulous local restaurant and an envelope that I'm not supposed to open before Christmas, but I'm fairly sure it's green stuff (to spend, not to smoke) from my "main" boss. And while I love the gifts, it's the manner in which they were delivered that has made me happier than anything so far this year: everything was delivered with an earnest, kind appreciation. Truly. And I am now in a state of utter gratitude that I work with the team that I work with. I understand that it is not this way for everyone at my firm. I just drew the lucky straws and work with people who don't often forget that the people working FOR them are. . .well. . .people. I mean, face it - unless you are VERY lucky, work is kind of a pain in the ass. . .a necessary evil to put soup in the bowl and shoes on your feet. Work kinda sucks. But if you're lucky enough to really enjoy your job - maybe not every day, but at least most of the time - you're doing pretty well. And in this fragile economic era, you're lucky if you have a job at all, I suppose.

 

I'm "multi-tasking" as I write this - so I apologize for any misspellings or incomplete thoughts. I just wanted to get this out there before I was handed another box of a thousand documents and ask to find the ONE grain of sand that could be considered the smoking gun.

 

I hope that all of you have a wonderful Christmas/holiday season and here's to hoping that we'll be dancing to happier tunes in 2010! xoxo