Conference quark::human_relations-v1

1159.0. "In memory of those gone..." by SUPER::REGNELL (Smile!--Payback is a MOTHER!) Tue Apr 23 1991 17:26

         "Good Bye Norma Jean"

         ---

	 As in all wars, friend and foe alike continue to fall. 
         From where we stand, huddled around the edges of the
         action, never sure if we are far enough back from the
         precipice to prevent our own demise, there appears to be no
	 rhyme and little reason and certainly no compassion
         associated with death's fell blade.  Any wind that
         blows seems ominous and in our minds we can hear the
         roar of cannon and musket.

         			***

         My personal experience with the headsman's axe happened
         in March of 1986. March 9, 1986, to be exact. I remember
         because it was a Friday and my husband's bouquet of
         birthday balloons arrived at the same time that the head
         of the Computer Science department did. In fact, he
         brought them from the receptionist's desk with him.

         "Happy birthday Mel! Is it today?" All smiles.

         "No, tomorrow. But I guess he wanted them for work, so
         he sent them today."

         "Do you have a minute?"

         "Sure, what's up?"

         "I am sorry, Mel, but we have decided that the section
         of the curriculum that you are covering is not going to
         be offered next year."

         "You are firing me." My heart was pounding, my head
         spinning, my eyes fixed on the shiny metallic birthday
         balloons. They had red ribbons. This was the first time 
         in my life that anyone had even hinted that I was not 
         adequate...much less taken a job away from me.

         "Well, no, I wouldn't put it that way." He did me a
         favor. He saved me from crying. He made me angry with
         him.

         "Oh? How would _you_ put it?" I was off the adrenelin
         high now, and I was plotting revenge.

         "It's just that the lab courses have not caught on the
         way we intentioned..."

         "Due in no part, I am sure, that you refused to schedule
         half of them?"

         "Well, our statistics showed they would not be filled
         anyway..."

         "Whose statistics?"

         "Well...Barry said..."

         "Ah...Barry. Never mind. Just get out of my office while
         I pack."

         "Oh, no! You aren't terminated until June 30. You have a
         job until then!" He was all smiles.

         I on the other hand was not.

         "I may have a job, but you do _not_ have a faculty
         member. I will be out of here tonight."

         Panic fleetingly showed on his face. "You can't do that.
         You have a contract."

         "And what do you propose to do...fire me?" I
         giggled. I admit I kept on giggling. Hysteria.

         He didn't see the humor of it. In fact he left screaming
         at me that I would be sorry if I walked out on him. I
         did. And I have yet to be sorry about it. And good old
         Barry...the computer science department head who waltzed
         on the scene and restructured the curriculum [and me out
         of it] left two months later. Greener pastures at a
         bigger university.

         And now, some five years after the fact, I even look
         upon the _event_ as a Godsend. It removed a trap
         of my own making in a dead-end career that I couldn't
         see. But I will never forgive the manner of it. The
         secrecy; the subterfuge that permeated the month prior
         to March when I had repeatedly asked point-blank if
         something was wrong, or if we needed to adjust the
         curriculum; the bald lies that were told. The absurdity
         of the callousness of the announcement.

         In my heart, where I have determined that there will be
         little or no room for the wasted effort associated with
         hate...in my heart, I hate that man.

         And that was my experience.

         			***

         And then we all heard about Fred.

         Fred is such a class act that it was somewhat hard to
         catch the headsman at work. His calm almost hid the nature
         of the act; almost made it seem that there was reason or
         logic at work. Almost.

         If it hadn't been for Bill, or Maggie, I might have
         missed it. But there was Bill. And there was Maggie. And
         then there was Fred. And he is gone before I knew him.

         			***

         And, most recently. There is Richard.

         The phone rings.

         "Hello, this is Mel."

         "This is Richard. I have been terminated. I am leaving
         now. I have your home address."

         The phone went dead.

         My "Ahhh...ok..." was said into space.

         I wish there was more to say about Richard. He was/is a
         dear friend; a sometime critic of searing wit and
         unerring insight; a good listener. In my book, "he was my
         friend" says it all. 

         I hardly knew Richard. And he is gone.

         			***

         I thought about writing 'something' when the news about
         Fred hit the network. And then I had to write something
         because Richard left us. And then I couldn't think of a
         title for such a thing. And now, having stumbled upon the
         perfect title for this little eulogy, Piers will tell
         me that I can't use it because it is an inside reference
         that noone will get.

         "Oh, Elton! Are we that old?"

         		Goodbye Norma Jean
         		Though I never knew you at all
         		You had the grace to hold yourself
         		While those around you crawled.

         		Goodbye Norma Jean
         		From a kid in the twenty-second row...

         			***

         And the war goes on. Do the generals really think we do
         not know it is a war? Do they think that once the blood
         has stopped flowing that we will not remember where it
         lay on the green fields.

         I don't know if any of you know the Irish singer John
         Clancy, or his music, or even if I care if you do or
         not. He has a famous song that he wrote called 'Four
         Green Fields'. He introduces it with a story about the
         battles fought on Irish soil and how the men lay
         sprawled across the fields, the ground red with their
         blood and their pockets full of barley seed which was
         all they had to eat. And when the seasons changed, and
         the wind and water had done their work all that was
         left of these hundreds of men were their bones bleaching
         in the sun, the barleycorn sprouting between
         them...making the fields green again.

         I should have such a hope for us. But I think I am too
         old to hope.

    Thank you, Mel.  Though it's a bit like attending my own wake, reading
    your tribute to co-workers now gone really hits home.
    
    I'm one of those "lucky" ones from MCG, who "gets to stay on" until the
    end of the fiscal year.  But then I, too, will be gone, unless....that
    miracle we're all hoping for.
    
    It hurts to see our friends and valued co-workers go.  It hurts to be a
    "valued co-worker" who has been told, "You've done a great job for us,
    Karen, but the company has decided to out-source your function.  Sorry. 
    But, oh, by the way, we need you to stay until our current projects are
    completed."
    
    You've described both feelings quite well.
    
    Karen
         

    It is almost like death.  A friend of mine at the Forge Road facility 
    in Colorado Springs got the AXE on Monday.  Her name is Paula (PJ)
    Reinbold.  
    
    One of the things about this layoff, unlike some other tragedies, we
    will all know at least one of the victims and we will all know that it
    could easily have been us.
    
    Please Mr. Wizard, I don't wanna play trim the roster anymore.
    jimc

.0>             I should have such a hope for us. But I think I am too
.0>         old to hope.
    
    Nobody in this world is too old to hope.  
    
    Some of those leaving are bound for better things.  Some of them
    are not.  All of them are bound for the rest of their lives... just
    like those who remain.
    
    Kris

    
    Hmmm...I think you missed the point of the analogy...at least
    what I was aiming for. I was not hopeless for the individuals...
    the comparison was to the green fields [in this case Digital]...
    I was lamenting the passing of an era.
    
    In any case, I am happy to read your opinion...but pray, do not
    tell me what I can have for mine. I do not have hope in this sense
    for this event. The very nature of the company has been changed...
    for the better or worse is irrelevant to the observation. Once this
    kind of thing has happened...it will never be the same...whether
    you stay or leave.
    
    Melinda

    re .3,
    
    While I agree with your sentiment, we also have to understand that it
    is a very poignant and effective.  I don't think Melinda has given up
    hope yet, but sometime when you are writing an essay or a story or a poem,
    something just looks right and has to be in it to have certain effects.
    
    IMHO
    
    Eugene

    Mel,
    
    Thanks,  having known some of those you've mentioned makes your writing 
    hit a little deeper for me.  
    
    I agree with your ending as well.  Digital was known as a "people"
    company for many years.  Even the first lay-offs were done in a manner 
    to give people the utmost consideration.  But now it's become for some 
    a tap on the shoulder and a walk to the door.  And it's changed so 
    very much of how I once felt about Digital.  I do not begrudge what
    they do so much as the method they are using now.  It's scary... not 
    just for me but for many.  Especially when I look and see that although 
    I went through the first of the transitions... and found a new job....
    I've learned that my new group is undergoing a second look to try and 
    "shave" it down.  Am I going to receive a tap on the shoulder sometime 
    soon?  I dunno... and that bothers me.
    
    Skip

.6>.... it's changed so very much of how I once felt about Digital.

    It pains me more than you can imagine to say this, but, I'm beginning
    to agree with you.  Maybe comments of this nature don't belong in here,
    more in HUMANE::DIGITAL, but, my "relationship" over the last 15
    years of serving Digital has been as binding and emotional as any I
    have had with a human being.  Now, I'm depressed the likes of which is
    incomprehensible ... my perspective is changing ... it's no longer a
    job that I love (selling) but, just a job.  God, how it hurts to say
    this.

.6>  I do not begrudge what they do so much as the method they are using..

    Amen.
    
    Oh well, tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life ...
    
    Jerry

    
    re -1
    
    Jerry - it pained me to read your honesty about how you feel.
    I feel much the same, and I haven't felt able to say that I
    any conference without getting jumped by various reactions...
    
    I feel as if my relationship with Digital is dying. I've been
    selling here, one way or another, for nine years. Like any
    relationship, it has had its ups and down, fights and pleasures....
    ...but now it's becoming just a job, and I've had to learn
    how not to care just to stop getting my heart ripped every day.
    
    When I fell out of love with this company, I thought of terminating
    the relationship all together. But instead it moved towards an
    uneasy shallow friendship/truce, and there it stays. 
    
    The basenote struck me hard because, for me, the dying analogy
    pulls in that other component of dying - grieving by those who
    remain.
    
    I see people going through the grieving process around me as
    they mourn the loss of friends, colleagues, dreams and beliefs,
    dare I say faith? Trust? 
    Those who are left behind feel the pain, maybe more destructively
    and more lastingly than those who have left us. And the management
    of this situation is showing no sensitivity to the need for
    support of those who are working through this.
    
    Maybe that's why the atmosphere in my area feels like one communal
    bereavement.                              
    

    RE: .8
    
    Couldn't have said it any better myself...thanks for putting into words
    what always seems to be in my heart lately!
    
    Jill
    

    
    Thanks Jill!
    I've always wanted a Hall of Fame nomination :-) 
    
    Mind you, I was beginning to worry that I'd depressed everyone so much
    they'd stopped noting ;-)
    (well, it has been a little quiet in here recently...)
    
    'gail