Wherever the FFFFFFF We Are

As some of you know, I recently went to three Pearl Jam shows: two in Seattle and one in Portland (or at least some place called Ridgefield, which actually isn't in Oregon at all, but that's what they're calling it and I will too).

I was as high as can be on life after the first show in Seattle because of a number of factors. I was in the 20th row, it was the first time I had seen any of Backspacer live, and they are one damn great rock band that gets better with every tour. So I went back to the house we were renting after the show, and Brad directed me to the message board on their website to see what people thought. This was a dangerous move.

I saw very quickly that a lot of "fans" out there like to complain about the crowd. I personally do not care, but apparently that makes or breaks a show for a lot of people. Not caring, I turned the computer off and somehow went to sleep that night.

The next day was show number two. I figured we'd be closer on this night, because I thought most people who only went to one show would go to the first one of the tour. (And as a brief explanation for those of you who don't know, fan club tickets get priority seating based on the fan club number. Basically, the lower the number the closer the seat, besides rows 1, 2, 9, and 10, which are lottery rows.) Imagine my surprise when I got to my seat and not only was it not on the floor, it was in the back corner of the arena.

Oh and by the way, this show was the BEST one I have ever been to. I have been to 32, including a small benefit show in Portland and Pearl Jam's 10th anniversary show which was very special. But night two in Seattle had great energy from the band, and an amazing setlist (which is very important when you've been to as many shows as I have).



But the seating thing was confusing, so afterward I went back to the message board to see if this happened to a lot of people. There were some around us, sure, but I had no idea how widespread the problem was.

As it turns out, not very. But it was a mistake, and the Ten Club more than made it up to me.

But that's not the point of this story. The point comes from the "Portland" show. And the fact that many people on the message boards talked about the crappiness of the crowds in Seattle. I didn't understand why so many people cared.

Remember how I said that the crowd doesn't matter? Not true. I realized that a crowd is a lot like government. The entire crowd represents the federal government, and this is what people usually judge. However, the immediate crowd is like local government, and this is what makes the most actual difference.

Anyway, my local crowd happened to be in the 8th row, the closest I've been besides possibly a show I saw in Dublin in 2000. I was stoked, to say the least. Plus everyone around me seemed really cool. Dan talked to a girl from Buffalo because he had a Rochester shirt on, I saw the couple who traded tickets with Adam and Kira for the second night in Seattle, allowing them to be on the floor for the first time. It was great.

But the two seats in front of me remained vacant until after Ben Harper and the Relentless 7 were done (what fools miss that, by the way?) Right before Pearl Jam came on, the seats were finally occupied by two guys, both taller than me by at least four inches. No matter, though. I could see most of the stage if I looked in between them.

But nine songs in I noticed a problem. The band went in to "Evenflow," which happens to be from their first album. It is still popular amongst casual fans, but I wish they wouldn't play it again for 15 years because I've seen it dozens of times. But the fact of the matter is that I'm still seeing my favorite band, so I enjoy it for what it is worth. Two rows up from me, a group of people we're enjoying it for far more than it was worth. They were freaking out, reveling, headbutting, and swaying with arms around each other. Kind of embarrassing, actually. But I can understand on a level. And as long as people are having a good time and not infringing on my enjoyment, I don't care.

What I did care about was the two big guys in front of me. They instantly starting making fun of that group, swaying, laughing, and so on. Not to their faces, of course. But what was really annoying was that they made a comment to each other many times per song for the rest of the show. Every time that happened, my window to the stage was closed. Obviously, that was very annoying.

What really bothers me, however, is as follows. I started liking Pearl Jam because they were (and are) an emotions-on-the-sleeve kind of band. They felt real. They were certainly not elitist. And when I first listened to them, I was in high school. Anyone who's ever gone to high school knows that virtually everyone gets made fun of, it is very elitist, and the people who remain friends are a select group indeed. Pearl Jam was a group, at my school at least, who represented people who didn't want to be a part of the name-calling and idiocy.

So here I was, at a Pearl Jam show with the best seats I've ever had, completely distracted because the two morons in front of me couldn't stop acting like high schoolers. I was disgusted. And I wondered where their enjoyment of the show was. Was the best part when Ben Harper joined the guys for an awesome version of "Red Mosquito?"



Was it Eddie's duet with Corin Tucker (from Sleater-Kinney) on "Golden State?"



Or was it acting like a couple of jackasses and partially ruining my experience? I would much rather have people act like they've just won the lottery when the popular radio songs come on than make fun of those who do. If you're making fun of people, you have missed the point of the band and you should stop renewing your membership. Let the real fans up front. The ones who get it.

The funny thing was getting on the message boards after the show and seeing all the fans say how great the crowd was, compared to Seattle. Maybe overall, I don't really know. For me, not so much. Thanks a lot, a-holes.

He's Gone

So I had a couple of things cooking for this next installment. Once I had the pictures, I was going to write about taking Oliver to Fenway Park. It was really fun. I also had a reunion with Dave Garrow while in Rhode Island, and got to meet his family. It was really good to see him again, and I am looking forward to doing some more catching up with him. I was really looking forward to writing about these things.

Then something funny happened.

I was "laid off."

I put that in quotes because it is far too open-ended to have much of a meaning. And I don't plan to explain its definition necessarily in this entry. You will have to put it together for yourselves.

Here comes a sharp turn, but trust me when I tell you we're coming back to the subject at hand.

How do you like your movies? Do you like the ones that have happy endings? Or at least endings that make sense and everything is tied together with a neat little bow?

If your answer is "yes," I'm afraid this entry will disappoint. This entry is going to be one of those movies with an ending that makes you wonder or think. It will not be neat.

I am SURE that there are many of you out there who would love me to go absolutely nuclear on this situation I now find myself in. Not a happy ending for sure, but at least highly satisfying. Trust me when I tell you that I could, but you are going to have to settle for disappointment if it is carnage you wish for.

There are two main reasons for this. First, I am seeking employment elsewhere and it wouldn't look very good to a prospective employer if they found a blog post from me annhilating my previous job. Second, I'm not a big believer in burning bridges. Plus I truly feel that everything happens for a reason, not that it is very apparent right now.

However, I can imagine that many of you are confused as to how this situation is even possible, and that is the real reason that I'm here writing this. So here goes something.

I started at the Tin Woodsman (or Crosby & Taylor) in 2002, one year after Nancy started. I was a regular production worker. Those of you who know me (100% of all my readers, presumably) know that I work my butt off, I am intelligent, and I care. Naturally, this is what I did at the TW. So I became Tim's (the Production Manager at the time) right-hand man of sorts. He saw that I was enthusiastic, normal, and trustworthy and fed me responsibility. Of course I took it.

Eventually Tim went into more of a designer's role, and that opened up a spot for me as Production Manager. At around the same time, I was starting to have a school schedule that interfered more with work, and I should say that the flexibility of the work schedule was always something I appreciated very much. I was allowed to work when I could, and I never took that for granted.

Anyway, Production Manager. Change is the name of the game in life. Change is the absolute rule at the TW. I was always fine-tuning systems to make things more efficient. Or creating new ones from scratch. I could do this because I was working very closely with the entire process, and could see how each change would affect all the other steps. Sometimes, however, panic would set in and the system would be taken away from me. Obviously, this hurt a lot. It meant I wasn't doing a good enough job, or that what I did do every day was taken for granted or viewed as meaningless. And at first I battled back, because I cared about the company. I didn't give a damn if the system was mine, her's, or the homeless guy's in the car out front - I just wanted it to work. And I KNEW that the new system didn't take everything into consideration and would cause more harm than good.

This happened a few times. Each time got easier, because each time I cared less. I figured out that my obedience was more important than my concern, and realized that a vibrant company cannot be run on such values. Plus, I was finishing school soon and what better time to start a career? So I left.

The career lasted a month-and-a-half. The job was, quite frankly, awful. It was an impossible situation and if you are a prospective employer reading this, I'll be more than happy to explain why in an interview. Otherwise, just know that it was very bad.

So I asked to come back, tail between my legs. I was graciously accepted, and even asked what I could offer the company that I learned in school! Egads! I was given a week to compile a portfolio of sorts, and I was looking forward to putting my schooling to use for the company (and people) I cared about.

So many long stories to make short here. The schooling I ended up using most was what I learned in two classes about Microsoft Excel. What I wanted to do was reduce the constant paranoia of the place by helping create this thing called a budget.

See, there were always spasms of money fears. These resulted in "spending freezes" or mass layoffs. I felt like since I went to school for Finance, graduated Cum Laude (while working full-time, buying a house, remodeling that house, planning and executing a great wedding, having a child), I had some things I could offer the TW.

In fairness, my wife and two brothers work there and perhaps me knowing too much about the finances would cause conflicts. I can understand this thinking, although it is fear-based. What should be known is this; I was once in the break room taking one of the many TW quizzes, when I noticed an unusual sheet at the bottom of the pile. It took two seconds for me to realize that it was a hand-written list of all the employees and what they had made for the previous year. It took me two more seconds to realize that I was getting paid nearly half of what the previous Production Manager made for doing the same job. And it took me two more seconds to destroy it and never talk to anyone about it. In retrospect, perhaps I should've brought this up sooner.

I didn't complain, I didn't slack, and as a matter of fact I was constantly put in a position where I tried to explain why raises weren't coming so often for others. Now you know.

The fact of the matter is I was the perfect person for the job, and yet it never happened. If I were a son, obviously I'd still work there. But more importantly, I am convinced the money troubles that caused my departure would be history. I'm not saying I'd increase sales. I'm saying that there's more to planning the financing of a business than having an accountant. By definition, an accountant counts what already happened. Finance projects. A budget and a Statement of Cash Flows are powerful tools.

I promised I wouldn't get bitter, and I'm sorry if there seemed to be sour grapes here. I want to convey that I am grateful for a lot of things, like the aforementioned flexibility, the opportunity to work with friends, the child-care for Oliver's first two-and-a-half years, the satisfaction of taking a mess and ending with a nicely packed order.

But what may seem like anger is not. It's disappointment. The reason that people stay at the TW is because it is almost perfect. Employees can see perfection on the horizon. They think they can help get there, wherever "there" may be. For me it was helping ease the financial worries.

So close.

My fear today is this - for the first time since I've worked there the crew is going to feel like the possibility of perfection is gone and it's never coming back. And I will say this for myself - I can motivate an demoralized crew. But I am gone. I got in the ship with perfection, and set sail. The place that has given me so much, has paid for my home and wedding and Oliver's healthcare and my car and vacations, it is in trouble. And I can't help it anymore.

By the time you read this, you will have gotten on with your lives. Most likely you are going to work, or school, or another day of retirement. The same as always.

But for me, right now, it is Sunday night. When I wake up tomorrow, I'm not going to work.