Dark days at the Club
We had a good, 'ol fashioned RCWC party for TL tonight. She's leaving on Friday, so Doris decided to host a party at her own house to say goodbye. It was bittersweet, but definitely different from our previous social outings. For one, no one was ridiculously drunk (a role filled by me at one point in the past). But even more, it was not raucous or outrageous in the slightest. In fact, the mood was downright somber at times.
It occurs to me that as people come and go, so must the bonds that held us all together. With Kevin and TL heading off to BC, Nicole McG jetsetting off to Europe for an indeterminate amount of time, and Jeff leaving for Huntsville, it's almost as though the old vanguard is disappearing one by one. Gone is the carefree dynamic of old, only to be replaced by the oppressive regime of new management. With Head Office insisting on maintaining a constant presence within the store, and with Jeff's job most likely going to Kenton (hilariously dry though his sense of humour may be), it feels somewhat akin to losing one's childhood innocence.
When I started at the store, I was quite shy and reserved, but I was soon encouraged to overcome that. Eccentric as they may be, the other employees were, for the most part, unbelievably welcoming and social. There was no contempt or prejudice there. Individuals were treated as people, and everyone worked in concert (more or less) to the benefit of everyone. Now, however, things already begin to change. With many of the old faces leaving, particularly those capable of effecting change, the threat of corporate assimilation looms near.
My job will most likely be entirely defunct within a month or two, leaving me with the difficult decision of returning to the floor or finding a new job. Had I been presented with this juncture a year ago, I would most likely have opted to remain with the store. Currently, though, I find myself with little faith in the way things are shaping up. I have no confidence in the new overlords of the store and very little optimism concerning the possible "benefits" of increased surveillance. What worked so well at the store was our devotion to our bosses. Almost everyone employed felt some sort of affection toward their direct supervisor, and most worshipped the ground Jeff walked on. He had our loyalties, from day one, and our supervisors were able to capture this as well.
But now, faced with the prospect of returning to a thankless job run by uncaring taskmasters working for marginally more than minimum wage and enduring a constant stream of degradation and humility in the process, I find myself somewhat uneasy. The old struggle of money vs. peace of mind rears its ugly head, and not for the first time I find myself wishing I was not so burdened by this innate human dignity I cannot seem to forget.
It occurs to me that as people come and go, so must the bonds that held us all together. With Kevin and TL heading off to BC, Nicole McG jetsetting off to Europe for an indeterminate amount of time, and Jeff leaving for Huntsville, it's almost as though the old vanguard is disappearing one by one. Gone is the carefree dynamic of old, only to be replaced by the oppressive regime of new management. With Head Office insisting on maintaining a constant presence within the store, and with Jeff's job most likely going to Kenton (hilariously dry though his sense of humour may be), it feels somewhat akin to losing one's childhood innocence.
When I started at the store, I was quite shy and reserved, but I was soon encouraged to overcome that. Eccentric as they may be, the other employees were, for the most part, unbelievably welcoming and social. There was no contempt or prejudice there. Individuals were treated as people, and everyone worked in concert (more or less) to the benefit of everyone. Now, however, things already begin to change. With many of the old faces leaving, particularly those capable of effecting change, the threat of corporate assimilation looms near.
My job will most likely be entirely defunct within a month or two, leaving me with the difficult decision of returning to the floor or finding a new job. Had I been presented with this juncture a year ago, I would most likely have opted to remain with the store. Currently, though, I find myself with little faith in the way things are shaping up. I have no confidence in the new overlords of the store and very little optimism concerning the possible "benefits" of increased surveillance. What worked so well at the store was our devotion to our bosses. Almost everyone employed felt some sort of affection toward their direct supervisor, and most worshipped the ground Jeff walked on. He had our loyalties, from day one, and our supervisors were able to capture this as well.
But now, faced with the prospect of returning to a thankless job run by uncaring taskmasters working for marginally more than minimum wage and enduring a constant stream of degradation and humility in the process, I find myself somewhat uneasy. The old struggle of money vs. peace of mind rears its ugly head, and not for the first time I find myself wishing I was not so burdened by this innate human dignity I cannot seem to forget.