Chapter 1: The Worst Birthday
March 1 started so normally that it seems insane to me how it ended. I remember brushing my teeth, cringing at how many alerts my phone would have to share with me throughout the day: Happy Birthdays from folks I haven't seen or spoken to in a decade. Notifications that I appreciated but knew I woudn't have the energy to respond to. I was going on week 4 of epic burnout, heading to a store that wasn't my own to continue onboarding a new (and fantastic) manager, knowing in another week or so I could rest. I had a flight to Vancouver to visit my friend booked for the 17th, all was well, tra-la-la-la.
I made it across the city to the other store, arms full of supplies and documents I'd taken 5 hours of my own time and money the day before preparing. After ten years in this job, to have a management team so ready to follow a plan I'd created with them was a dream. We were gonna get things compliant and smooth. Normally I'd be taking my birthday off, but not this time - who cares? I loved my job, I loved my people, everything was worth it to me.
While in the middle of auditing some paperwork on a busy sales floor, customers were discouraged. We'd had to press pause on our loyalty programme due to some internal errors, and gift cards just weren't working, so I understood the frustration. Normally I'd be eager to offer compensation, but given we had no ETA on a solution, I couldn't take my usual notes on what they'd spent to have points added later. I empathised that I couldn't even redeem my own birthday reward! I was also noticing another team member who we really needed out on the sales floor was missing, and coached the manager in training to ask said employee to be more present when they emerged again, as our scheduled hours were priotitised for training over sales floor leadership.
The phone rings and I see it's from my own store. My assistant manager is on the line in absolute hysterics, asking if I knew that our store was closing, as customers were insisting this was the case. 'What? Of course not. I'm so sorry, but I'm really busy right now. Very very busy, we're well behind on training because some folks keep disappearing on me, I'll need to speak to you later, I can't help at the moment'. I felt awful, but also, our training was behind, and I really needed to find that sales floor coverage to get through the insane backlog of paperwork and auditing for this store. They deserved a fresh start.
The Body Shop UK had been under administration for about two weeks at that point, and out of habit I checked the news each morning. That same morning there was once again an addendum that The Body Shop Canada was in no trouble whatsoever. The most information we had was that due to overspending, the UK was going to need to shutter a bunch of shops. It was heartbreaking, but Canada was a profitable market and the first place The Body Shop ever branched out to. We were solid, we were profitable, and my shop had been one of only a few to actually make our Black Friday targets that November. Woo hoo! My location opened in 1993 and wasn't exactly going anywhere - the loyalty of our customers surpassed every other shop in the city, just to toot my own horn, but that was due to the longevity of my team and our product knowledge. Our regulars were regular.
As soon as I was able, I dashed to the back room to check shop email in case I'd missed anything. Before logging onto the computer I picked up my phone. Instead of the 'Happy Birthday' messages I'd been steeling myself for, I was clobbered with condolences. Every shop in our city was closing, along with 32 more in the country by the end of March. The Americans had been locked out of their own stores that morning, and even our distribution centre was locked.
What. The. Fuck.
I'm not going to go any deeper than that, as the rest of the day was phone calls, tears, outrage, and confusion. I needed to get back to my own store the next day and abandon the onboarding - my team had been with me for 4, 6, even 10 years. Our dedication to what we did and the pride of ownership in our store needed my attention.
The messages were mixed. That Friday we had been told we would be employed until 30 March. On Monday, after a fucking nightmare of a sudden 50% off sale that brought in $25,499 on Saturday alone for my team of four (a number you'd expect for pre-COVID Black Friday at West Edmonton Mall with a team of fifteen - shoutout to our neighbours at EB Games for making multiple cardboard runs for us), we were corrected that it would be the 24th. Then the 15th ... scratch that, it'll be the 22nd. Actually, wait, no, we're open until the 18th. By the end of it we were begging to be put out of our misery. Please just give us a date.
So while I'd done everything I could to cancel my holiday, the one I'd planned only to use carryover that expired at the end of March, it turned out I'd still be able to go. I just got home today.
My brain absolutely cannot comprehend what has happened to me over the last 24 days. Mentally, it's still 29 February. Everything is fine. I'm supposed to go to work tomorrow to an email from my ASM sharing all the shenanigans that went on while I was away. I'll be back co-hosting the weekly conference call with my district - the same one that's now missing 6 shops, including my own. Google usually leaves pages of places that are 'permanently closed' for posterity, which I appreciated as we had some nice reviews and photos there. Nope - we were wiped from the face of the Internet. We never existed. It was a blip.
Everything was fine on March 1st. Just brilliant. Until it wasn't anymore. No continuation of benefits, no severance, and no opportunity to even collect government severance as the company hasn't officially declared bankruptcy. I wish so badly this were just some dead-end job I needed to find my way out of, but it wasn't. It was everything. It took days to move all my belongings out of there, even the fridge. It took days to comprehend that our safe shelter in the mall for certain individuals would be no more. It took days to come to terms with not seeing my team every day, not sharing Community Fair Trade Stories, not helping shops all over the country with my own expertise, not supporting my manager while also receiving the most beneficial feedback and coaching I've ever received from anyone.
The denial is slowly leaving my bones but the loss and confusion isn't. On April 1, exactly one month after The Worst Birthday, I begin a new job with a new company and a new team. I'm really excited because I know I'm going to be phenomenal at it, but my god, I did not anticipate this kind of change for me at 36. There's a reason The Body Shop retains managers for 20, 30 years. I wish them luck in regaining their credibility as a brand, but more so, I wish my colleages so much love and encouragement during this messy time. Right off the bat someone offered me the keys to their location in Alberta. I somehow actually had an impact on these folks for all these years. I stopped in at a store in Vancouver a few days ago where the team there recognised me from a LinkedIn article I'd posted about my devotion to the kind of good I got to share with my community every day with the support of this company.
Yeah idk everything is very uncomfy.