The other
day at the grocery store the checker remarked that he had gotten recognition
for being the fastest checker that week. Did he get an award? He didn’t say, but
he seemed proud of his accomplishment.
“Are they
timing you?’ I asked.
“Yes.”
At the
grocery store?! Not them too.
I already
know about emails from a large corporation. The respondents have eight minutes to answer an email, and one must go down
the list in order of first written, even if the ship has already sailed. Sometimes to
answer the question requires doing research. Whoops, no time for that.
Sometimes the system breaks down or is slow. Too bad, you are still on the clock.
One solution
is to shuffle that email off to another department. Clearing your docket is
paramount, not answering the question.
Why all the
rush? Why put people on a clock? It demoralizes them—except maybe the checker
at the grocery store. It turns them into an assembly line mentality. Have happy
customers? What a concept. Those grocery store checkers are so fast I hardly have
time to unload my cart, slide the credit card, give them my reward card, and
scribble my signature. That’s after I stood in line of course.
Do the
efficiency experts go to school to learn how to drive employees insane? Faster makes more money--so it is believed. No wonder some people hate their jobs.
I understand
we are a technologically based culture, and I remember when a
computer needed an entire room for all its bells and whistles, and that computer had less memory that the lap top I am currently
typing on. Let's not forget, however, that there are people attached to that
computer, or standing in front of us waiting for eye contact. Have you ever
stood in front of a clerk while behind a computer screen you heard, "Click, click,
clicky, click, click?"
Oh yes, and
televisions in restaurants. Why? Didn’t we go out to escape the box or to visit
with friends or to enjoy our meal in luxury?
Guess not.
Remember, some
genius created a device to record television
shows enabling them to be watched later.
I was
wondering the other day if painting was out. You know, a brush, paints on
canvas, sketching. Well, I watch Face Off
on television and those people know how to sketch and sculpt, and fabricate in
a day or two what it would normally take months to create so I know there are
talented, skilled, creative people out
there, but when I see something like a Bionocle,
a toy so complex you know a computer created it, it makes me wonder if a person
with their simple little hands on materials has a chance anymore. CGI has
replaced glass backgrounds movie backdrop painters used to paint by hand.
Remember when the Disney corporation hand- painted all those cells used in their animated films? And the art of Bambi is
so exquisite it should never be lost, although the sadness of Bambi could. It
was my first movie and it scared me forever.
Those who
have read me for a time know that I am conflicted. I want to be uplifting,
encouraging and motivational, yet I feel that my years have given me a perspective that ought not to be lost. Again I ask, where is the medium? (I
know, finding it “takes some share of wit, so tis a mark fools seldom
hit”--Cooper.)
And I have
noticed that the sweet by and by might get a nod, “That’s nice.” Ho hum. We do
like something we can sink out teeth into. (Gosh isn’t blogging fun, we can throw
out cliché’s. on a regular basis.)
We ought to look at what's important in our lives and what's not. What do we want to accomplish? Has happiness eluded us? Let's get it back.
I had an epiphany
the other day driving home from Portland. Earlier I printed my mother’s Letters
and interspersed mine among hers telling the family secret. Well, that’s over.
I decided my mother deserves her own voice without being colored by mine, so I
expunged all my commentary within the book. I did write a Foreword and Afterward, and
I’m back to my water-color cover. I guess with winter coming I like the snow. And the book ends with snow falling in crystalline stars on my sister and my lapels.
