Chapter 2 - Denouement
From www.m-w.com: denouement - Function: noun
Etymology: French dénouement, literally, untying, from Middle French desnouement, from desnouer to untie, from Old French desnoer, from des- de- + noer to tie, from Latin nodare, from nodus knot -- more at NODE
1 : the final outcome of the main dramatic complication in a literary work
2 : the outcome of a complex sequence of events
I named this chapter denouement. A testament to my tenth grade English teacher, Velma Williamson, I recall her simplified version of the above definition as "a falling action"; "the story climax." You get the whole point of the tale after hanging on breathlessly page after page. Some authors, even more dramatically, describe it and the conclusion of a story as "a little death." An appropriate metaphor.
The Colonel continued with his non communications meetings, glazed eyes and all from March through August of 2003. We missed one meeting in June due to his having to go to a meeting at our corporate headquarters. He - that is, his secretary - sent an apologetic e-mail stating he was sorry we'd have to miss the June meeting. Hallelujah.
By July, we all got a bulk e-mail from corporate communications. There would be a reorganization of the business units and an involuntary severance before the end of the third quarter. Since July is the beginning of most companies third quarters, you can't plan vacations to conveniently fall on the fated day. Our street contacts were mum. Now, the secrecy of the corporate animus rivaled that of the White House or the Central Intelligence Agency. The attitude from most workers was heavy with despair. That became the central theme of conversations around lunch, either on or off campus. Actually, off campus lunches, though more expensive became more frequent to say things outside of the company that were not quite "PC."
"How are they making this decision?"
"My last review... I mean, I think I scored OK and all."
"You know what p----s me off? I notice they never lay themselves off, and many times it was their dumb decisions that caused the problems!"
"On top of that, they get bonuses. Do you know how long it's been since I've seen a bonus? Centuries. And I haven't lived THAT long!"
They. Them.
I watched a friend become one. He'd started out as a decent engineer. Then the dreaded thing happened: he was promoted to Section Manager.
After a succession of promotions and accolades, he became an Operations Manager of one of our factories. During process yield meetings, I'd watch him grill engineer after engineer, pestering them and hammering them until he could catch them in a technical faux pas, an "aha" moment that he'd ride until the engineer felt about two inches tall leaving the podium. It makes my skin crawl recalling some of his comments:
"What the HELL did you think you were doing?"
"Am I paying you for incompetence, or results?"
"Sit down. Those results are absolute bull----! Come back when you have something of merit to report. Come to my office after this meeting!"
"You were abusing your lab time!" The hapless engineer explained he wasn't and used the time to solve a yield problem that BENEFITED the company. "Did anyone else get in the lab while you were overusing your time? Well, then I still say you abused your lab time!"
Needless to say, my former friend/monster had a lot of professional turn over.
"...reorganization of the business units and an involuntary severance before the end of the third quarter."
August.
All of my engineering projects dried up like a sunflower wilting in the Texas summer heat. I logged as much time as I could on the test floor. I attended meetings and tried to insert myself into new projects, new platforms.
I was so distraught I went to our business unit's HR manager. She was a petite woman, swarthy and lovely, obviously of Hispanic ancestry despite her married Christian name. I made an appointment to talk with her. I wanted answers and I asked her for them. "Am I on this list?" "Why didn't you give us a choice of voluntary severance?" "Don't you realize you're playing with peoples lives and incomes here?" Her face - I'd seen it before - on my cat. An armor-piercing stare of determination. I'd usually see it on my cat before... she'd kill a mouse.
"I know how you must feel. I'm afraid I can't answer that." She said it with a staccato reminiscent of a dutiful Stepford/Android wife.
Before the end, as with my father's death four years prior (the anniversary of his demise coming soon on the twenty-sixth of the month of August) humans I feel, have premonitions of the end of things. This verse chronicled my feelings at that time:
Horizon ROAD (retired on active duty)
Copyright 11 August 2003, Reginald L. Goodwin
On the road going to nowhere
there is static on every channel;
no frantic gestures from road-raged drivers spouting nonsense.
The only relent and belief
is that you are the only driver
gazing at a horizon without event or relief.
On the road going to nowhere
dark, gray cliffs line the side
of empty streets;
no accidents to avoid,
no pedestrians (to miss) or meet.
A world void of color, inhabited by no one other than you.
On the road going to nowhere
is the stark-raving terror of reflection:
remembering life's other goals and directions
requiring risk and FAITH.
Somewhere, you lost your courage and did what was SAFE.
As you sweat in SUV expectations
not reaching for Porche or Vet,
will you stay on this road out of fear and despair:
desperately clinging to the gray color-void
surety
of
the road going to nowhere?
Etymology: French dénouement, literally, untying, from Middle French desnouement, from desnouer to untie, from Old French desnoer, from des- de- + noer to tie, from Latin nodare, from nodus knot -- more at NODE
1 : the final outcome of the main dramatic complication in a literary work
2 : the outcome of a complex sequence of events
I named this chapter denouement. A testament to my tenth grade English teacher, Velma Williamson, I recall her simplified version of the above definition as "a falling action"; "the story climax." You get the whole point of the tale after hanging on breathlessly page after page. Some authors, even more dramatically, describe it and the conclusion of a story as "a little death." An appropriate metaphor.
The Colonel continued with his non communications meetings, glazed eyes and all from March through August of 2003. We missed one meeting in June due to his having to go to a meeting at our corporate headquarters. He - that is, his secretary - sent an apologetic e-mail stating he was sorry we'd have to miss the June meeting. Hallelujah.
By July, we all got a bulk e-mail from corporate communications. There would be a reorganization of the business units and an involuntary severance before the end of the third quarter. Since July is the beginning of most companies third quarters, you can't plan vacations to conveniently fall on the fated day. Our street contacts were mum. Now, the secrecy of the corporate animus rivaled that of the White House or the Central Intelligence Agency. The attitude from most workers was heavy with despair. That became the central theme of conversations around lunch, either on or off campus. Actually, off campus lunches, though more expensive became more frequent to say things outside of the company that were not quite "PC."
"How are they making this decision?"
"My last review... I mean, I think I scored OK and all."
"You know what p----s me off? I notice they never lay themselves off, and many times it was their dumb decisions that caused the problems!"
"On top of that, they get bonuses. Do you know how long it's been since I've seen a bonus? Centuries. And I haven't lived THAT long!"
They. Them.
I watched a friend become one. He'd started out as a decent engineer. Then the dreaded thing happened: he was promoted to Section Manager.
After a succession of promotions and accolades, he became an Operations Manager of one of our factories. During process yield meetings, I'd watch him grill engineer after engineer, pestering them and hammering them until he could catch them in a technical faux pas, an "aha" moment that he'd ride until the engineer felt about two inches tall leaving the podium. It makes my skin crawl recalling some of his comments:
"What the HELL did you think you were doing?"
"Am I paying you for incompetence, or results?"
"Sit down. Those results are absolute bull----! Come back when you have something of merit to report. Come to my office after this meeting!"
"You were abusing your lab time!" The hapless engineer explained he wasn't and used the time to solve a yield problem that BENEFITED the company. "Did anyone else get in the lab while you were overusing your time? Well, then I still say you abused your lab time!"
Needless to say, my former friend/monster had a lot of professional turn over.
"...reorganization of the business units and an involuntary severance before the end of the third quarter."
August.
All of my engineering projects dried up like a sunflower wilting in the Texas summer heat. I logged as much time as I could on the test floor. I attended meetings and tried to insert myself into new projects, new platforms.
I was so distraught I went to our business unit's HR manager. She was a petite woman, swarthy and lovely, obviously of Hispanic ancestry despite her married Christian name. I made an appointment to talk with her. I wanted answers and I asked her for them. "Am I on this list?" "Why didn't you give us a choice of voluntary severance?" "Don't you realize you're playing with peoples lives and incomes here?" Her face - I'd seen it before - on my cat. An armor-piercing stare of determination. I'd usually see it on my cat before... she'd kill a mouse.
"I know how you must feel. I'm afraid I can't answer that." She said it with a staccato reminiscent of a dutiful Stepford/Android wife.
Before the end, as with my father's death four years prior (the anniversary of his demise coming soon on the twenty-sixth of the month of August) humans I feel, have premonitions of the end of things. This verse chronicled my feelings at that time:
Horizon ROAD (retired on active duty)
Copyright 11 August 2003, Reginald L. Goodwin
On the road going to nowhere
there is static on every channel;
no frantic gestures from road-raged drivers spouting nonsense.
The only relent and belief
is that you are the only driver
gazing at a horizon without event or relief.
On the road going to nowhere
dark, gray cliffs line the side
of empty streets;
no accidents to avoid,
no pedestrians (to miss) or meet.
A world void of color, inhabited by no one other than you.
On the road going to nowhere
is the stark-raving terror of reflection:
remembering life's other goals and directions
requiring risk and FAITH.
Somewhere, you lost your courage and did what was SAFE.
As you sweat in SUV expectations
not reaching for Porche or Vet,
will you stay on this road out of fear and despair:
desperately clinging to the gray color-void
surety
of
the road going to nowhere?
posted by Unemployed | 1:02 PM
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