Tired.
By June of 1996 all the changes that had
been made had been in place for a year or so.
Jobs, mine for instance, had been
eliminated and people had assumed new duties. In my case, forty souls had been
assigned to my care. Additionally, as no one had picked up my former duties and
they had to be done if for nothing other than good defence, I continued my
former duties in addition to the new. Weeks now became sixty or seventy hours,
and the days were a never-ending series of problems and details, with little to
no help for anybody.
The guy at the top (Mr. George M.C.
Fisher, first guy I've ever known with two middle names)
had driven the stock from thirty dollars
to eighty dollars as the company transformed itself to a leaner, and much more
productive company. Most everyone who survived the change was doing pretty much
the same as me, working their butts off to stay even. The Chief Financial
Officer (also dubbed "the prince of darkness") thought they had the
company turned around, and they had made great strides, but a lot of people
wanted to know why the top company officials made millions and most others ran
as fast as possible to stay even.
My boss told me "if you stay out of
trouble, and do more than you think you're suppose to do, I'll make sure you
keep your current salary and maybe, just maybe, you'll get a two or three
percent lump sum payment yearly, until you retire". That's what the place
had become.
On top of all that it was no longer
possible to get ahead by making recommendations for improvements because nobody
would take you up on it. People got ahead by making other people look bad, especially
those who threatened them. As a result, "paper progress" was made while
efforts aimed at real progress were put
into study after study, usually headed up by people who
didn't know what they were doing.
Those of us still on line began to drink
more, get a little louder at meetings, become just a little sadder and, worst
of all, begin to count the days we had left rather than think about what we
we're going to do 'tomorrow.
By June of 1996 I had adjusted to my new
life and was doing my best at it, trying not to die. The painting Tired (once a
title for this effort based upon this painting) says it, just about, all.
