My choices are to buy from spineless megaliths that kiss the ring and do away with fairness policies, buy 10x the amount I need from Costco or pay twice the amount from a drugstore with untenable worker conditions.
In the microcosm, I wield little influence. In the world at large, I am powerless. They only recourse I have against the choices made be the wealthiest MWM leading the Targets and Amazons is to send my money elsewhere.
So, to reward the chutzpah of Costco and Delta, I will buy in bulk and pay more for flights — because fuck you, syncophants.
reducerenewrecycle
Reduce the bad. Renew what's important. Recycle everything else.
Author Archives: reducerenewrecycle
MWM: America’s most pervasive parasite
Oh, the mediocre white man. I’m caged in by throngs of them in positions of power. I can’t escape them without blowing up my own life.
I need to change where I shop because large retailers have voluntarily strapped on a gag and a collar, and handed the leash to the leader of ‘Murica.
I’m handcuffed to an employer making decisions only for the almighty shareholder.
At home, it’s become clear since we’ve had children, that I’m married to a 17yo boy in a 43-year-old’s body.
Could I get divorced, shop local for 3x the price and quit my job? Sure.
And I’d be fucking myself and my kids over if I did.
Fuck, I had feeling trapped.
I don’t know how to be sad
I’m good at angry. Angry generates energy and I love energy. I know what to do with energy from all of the other emotions — hurt, frustration, stress, joy, etc. Emotional energy propels me through the emotion and then I can be done with it.
I don’t know what do with an emotion that is energy negative or neutral.
Hypothesizing what KTTW would say, the stillness of sad is difficult because it just … is. And I don’t like to be forced to do anything, much less just … be.
Sadness (and even contentment to a degree) depletes energy.
Since the coping strategies I’ve used aren’t appealing (positive sign, albeit annoying) and Google tells me that I need to exercise to stave off depression. I guess I’ll try that. I know it will help but as mentioned, sadness is exhausting.
I’ll try to plank as much as I can inside of five minutes. Hold please.
Later…
I ate a bag of chips instead. Now I feel sad and bloated.
Later still…
I made it two minutes in plank pose. Meh. Jury’s still out, but I don’t feel like crying. Credit to Sun Chips or two minutes of planking? Who knows.
Five minutes later…
Okay, fine. Exercise helps. Bah.
Hey CEO: It’s 2024, not 1994
When the employer lucky enough to borrow my skillset asked me if I feel stress about return to office in early 2023, below is how I responded.
Said employer then not only ignored the feedback from its nearly 100,000 employees, but they doubled down and reclassified all remote jobs to hybrid recently.
Return to Office (RTO) is going to cause a lot of stress for me personally. Two years ago, I had a nanny with one child in preschool. Today, I have two kids in school without reliable school transportation meaning I need to deliver and pick up my children at 9:10 a.m. and 3:40 p.m. — Not a big deal if I’m at home. BIG problem if I’m downtown without a car. Bigger problem in that we only have one car.
I estimate that a second car — that we don’t otherwise need — will add $50,000 in expenses to do what? Be on conference calls all day with strangers as none of my team are in the same state?
Yeah, RTO is stressing me out. A lot.
In addition to money, RTO is costing me time. It’s taking two hours of seemingly unnecessary time away from me each day — between getting ready, commuting and then repeating in reverse at the end of the day.
The last two years have brought into perspective what is truly important to me. They’ve shown me what is possible when I work from home. Your question seems to be foreshadowing and has left me to contemplate if this company, with a mandated RTO, is the right place for me. I don’t know the answer yet, but in looking at the job market and knowing many of my friends and industry colleagues can work wherever they want to — I know there are remote opportunities for me should I want to pursue them.
My question to the decisionmakers at this company is simply: Why? Is it because you’ve signed multi-year leases on property? Because you don’t trust your employees? Because municipalities are giving you ridiculous tax incentives to bring people back downtown?
To cloak the real reasons under blanket “culture” statements seems to dismiss that all of us have functioned well for two years (not to mention the folks who are remote regardless of the pandemic). It’s causing distrust, discord and the creation of narratives you can’t control amongst the people who are impacted.
It has to be about money, so just be honest.
Last, I’ve been sick ONCE in two years. I’m not worried about COVID, but the flu, colds, and other germs from doorknobs, elevator buttons, faucets, water dispensers, printers, communal items, and so on. I’m not interested in that exposure or bringing that home to my family. It’s a small factor, but certainly one I’m taking into account.
Honestly, this is the first time I’ve spent time really looking at RTO holistically and how it will impact me. I’m not sure what this company could offer to retain me in lieu of a remote option should the scales tip in favor of a remote position.
It was so much worse than I thought
My friend had a baby two weeks ago and holy shit, seeing her with her newborn has brought some clarity to my own postpartum experience.
The reactionary feelings run the gamut. Joy for this woman who has longed to be a mother; realization of just how bad it was for me; grief over what I missed out on; heartache for myself as a first-time mother; pain over having to navigate it by myself; and if I’m being totally honest, a wee bit of jealousy.
The eight months I spent undiagnosed with postpartum depression and anxiety were even more brutal than I thought they were. I didn’t realize I’d be processing that time of life all over again, but in a way I’m grateful for the opportunity. I’m holding 37yo me gently as I navigate these complex feelings.
A silver lining of not being able to put your newborn daughter down: Eight years later, she still pulls the collar of my shirt down to rest her cheek against my decolletage when she needs connection. And it sends a rush of oxytocin through my heart every time.
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall…Who IS That?
Cleaning out the drafts folder. This one is from 2020.
There is a person who blatantly stares at me. Usually uncomfortable by such attention, I’m used to her curious eyes now. She’s really pretty. Her smile is her best feature – it sprouts two dimples when in full bloom. Her eyes are a quiet shade of blue that light up when she laughs. Her hair is long and shiny and perfect shades of honey and late summer wheat.
I imagine she’s looking at my large pores or the chip in my tooth. I bet she immediately noticed the hint of a double chin and the second-day hair that smells bad underneath the guise of dry shampoo. She probably can’t help but study the hideous ‘skin-colored’ mole thing on my cheek.
I expect my reflection to be plain and disheveled. I’m rather thankful I don’t recognize this person in the mirror. I’d prefer to only know that I’m beautiful on the inside and remained surprised each time I look in the mirror.
It’s a strange dichotomy to have such a disparate image of oneself.
All Are Welcome Here
Cleaning out the drafts folder. This one is from 2018.
What do the JCC and I have in common?
I visited the Holocaust museum in D.C. once.
One of my Brethren is Jewish. I made Challah for the Chanukah dinner he invited us to.
I ask my coworker a ton of questions because I’m fascinated with the culture.
But that’s pretty much it.
But then “Pittsburgh” happened. Some hate-filled disaster of a human being shot grandmas and grandpas at a synagogue. The anger that boiled in my heart was too much. So I Gingerly-ed and emailed the local Jewish Community Center.
“I’m so angry and want to channel that rage into something positive. Can I come volunteer? I can rake, clean, file — whatever you need me to do.”
It was probably comical and maybe a little odd to hear from some irate gentile, but they obliged and connected me to the development team who could use a warm body to stuff envelopes.
The first thing I saw when I reached the JCC was the security signage. The video recording sign. The security system signage. The controlled entrance. The armed security guard. Required ID for admittance.
A bomb threat two years ago spawned this level of vigilance. They had to get elderly people out of a swimming pool and escort them, barefoot, across a snowy parking lot to safety. Thirteen-year-olds were carrying infants. A mass exodus of 2,500 schoolkids, adults with disabilities, teachers and staff had to flee a community center because some monster, what, didn’t like Jewish people?!
Jesus fucking Christ.
As the development director gave a tour of the center and told me about the programs and services they offer to everyone, Jewish or not.
I was flabbergasted. “But, why? Why would welcome other people when they’ve been so awful?”
She simply said, “We know what it’s like to be excluded, so we make sure this a place of inclusivity. Everyone is welcome.”
And that’s why I volunteer at and give money to the JCC.
What goes around…
Cleaning out the drafts folder. This one is from 2016.
This is a story about bullies getting some good old-fashioned comeuppance.
Quarterback was born in 2015. I returned to work at Greed Financial three months later. The boss I adored had left the company and I returned to report to Jafar.
Jafar, a heavy-set woman with unnaturally red hair that she curls every day, was the VP of my area. She has the trendy glasses and wardrobe of the ad world from whence she came. She has a great laugh and an approachable nature. A fox in sheep’s clothing.
Soon enough, my role was layered and then layered again underneath Jafar. It wasn’t a problem, except my new boss was a person we’ll call Tiny Tyrant. The Tiny Tyrant was bat shit crazy. Jafar was a grown-ass bully.
Later…
I started the draft in June 2019. I don’t want to relive the details necessary to paint a full picture of how callous these catty women were, so we’ll fast forward to the comeuppance.
I was looking for a new job at the same time I was talking to attorney about Jafar’s interference in my career at Greed Financial. Here’s the series of events:
- I started talking to an attorney
- I began interviewing internally and externally
- A hiring manager at Greed Financial told me that Jafar had interfered with me getting a job in his group.
- I asked HR for my file and some poor intern gave me the file they aren’t supposed to show you
- I had written proof of their harassment, retaliation and discrimination.
- They laid me off the day before I announced I was pregnant with my second child.
- I got a lucrative offer from a mom who was nine-months pregnant and didn’t care that I was pregnant.
- My attorney went for the jugular.
- Greed Financial settled with me.
- Greed Financial unceremoniously fired Tiny Tyrant and Jafar.
The smackdown
Cleaning out the drafts folder. This one is from 2021.
In T-minus-15 minutes, I’m going to get smacked down for a new job. The interesting thing about this rejection is that IDGAF.
In three rounds of interviews, I was 100% pure undiluted me. There was no gussy, peacocking or swagger — because that’s not me.
I’m a gritty, tenacious, excitable, idea machine. As an amorphous being in a round peg industry, I’m a utility player who’s as rare and universal as my blood type.
The investment in time and emotional energy in the job search is the part that irks. Nothing causes me to emote — from defeat to fury — more than someone wasting my time. Inevitably, there will be tears of frustration for the poor ROI, but only for that reason.
There’s a freedom in rounding 40.
How’s it up there in the ivory tower?
I’ve been at this company for nearly a decade. My career with this institution will be marked “before that call” and “after that call.”
Before, I was content. I wanted to work hard. I liked my job. I had utmost respect for the CEO based on personal interactions.
Then there was after.
After the shock, I cried tears of frustration and rage. The return-to-work strategy is damaging to women. Namely mothers.
I’m embarrassed to work here. I’m ashamed that I add value to an organization run by a wealthy, mediocre, white, man in an ivory tower.
Knowing what I know now. The idea of returning to the stress of my life in 2020 is unfathomable. No job is worth that. Fortunately, there are plenty of open roles in my field that are interested in paying for my brain – not for my physical body in a cubicle.
This company will not only lose me as a long-time employee, but also as a customer and shareholder over this.
I don’t do business with companies that don’t support women.
reducerenewrecycle 