Tag: pizza

Under Thirty

I heard an odd story today from a Home Depot “associate,” or whatever elevated term they are calling them these days. I remember when labeling theory was all the rage and it was somehow believed that calling something “lesser than” a different name would elevate the dignity of work. That is when janitors became “sanitary engineers.”

So when I heard this story today, I flinched a little. We hear that millennials suffer from being overcoddled as children. These are the graduates of kindergarten programs where “everyone got a medal” or positive feedback no matter how dismal their performance. “Every child is special,” intoned educators. “Every child deserves praise and recognition.”

Granted that is hard to argue until it goes beyond the beyonds. How that somehow got translated into no longer letting children experience the consequences of their actions beats me. In my book, it defies nature.

So this associate told us today about a young person/millennial employee who got angry at a customer. Apparently, he turned on his heel, in front of the customer, “left his post,” as it were, and walked out of work and went home. I was speechless for about a milli-second then rolled my eyes and shook my head. Customer service has been reduced to a level where it often feels as if the person serving you expects you “to make their day,” and not the other way around.

The story got better. This young person showed up at work the next day, unapologetic and worse, endured no consequences for his behavior from management. Not even a stern lecture or reprimand. Perhaps they gave him a medal for being “so special.”

I rant about this not from the perspective of a horrified person, but a deeply saddened one. I do meet upbeat and positive salespeople of all ages. We seem to make each other’s day. Banter and problem-solving together. Considering options. This color or that.

But human nature is such that it takes something like – in truth, I don’t remember how many exactly – 90 or so positive statements to make up for a negative one. This is particularly directed at parents with a view to imbuing their offspring with a positive self-image.

But does it really? What did it for me was accomplishment. Or handling a delicate interpersonal situation well. Like telling someone something hard that had to be said but leaving them with their dignity. I was terrible at all of that as a young adult. It took years and tons of mistakes to wrap my head around it.

I often muse about the unjust society young people are presently stewed in. Paris Hilton is a role model? Because of an accident of birth and good marketing chops? The Kardashians? Marketing on steroids.

It is cruel and unfair for young people to think they can all become rock stars or models or actresses and make a million dollars before their thirtieth birthday. If that is their goal and belief that they deserve it, it is not hard to imagine why they are short-tempered and churlish with the masses they must serve while waiting for their breakthrough contract to be signed.

No doubt countless numbers of ambitious cute guys feel ripped off when it dawns on them their boy band isn’t going to make it in music’s big leagues. They are in for a world of disappointment unless that perspective gets turned around.

Tonight my husband and I ordered takeout pizza. I was exhausted. we had been schlepping around Home Depot all afternoon. I was probably unnecessarily short with the young lady. Certainly not friendly and engaging.

As I was leaving, she walked away from the cash register, waving a hand with acrylic green glitter nails, and sneered, sarcastically: “Hope you have a better day, ma’am.” It was not said kindly. It was unnecessary. A missed opportunity for kindness and compassion.

I was hurt by her dismissive attitude and gratuitous unkindness, and as I said, exhausted. I thought I might call her or her boss to tell them that. But I didn’t. First, I didn’t expect my concerns would be taken seriously. Second, I knew once I had had a good night’s sleep, the slight and the person who made it would fade into oblivion. Green nails and all.

But I did note it as a distressing pattern I encounter too frequently among “service associates” these days.

I admit the tables have turned for this Boomer. I now rarely trust anyone under thirty.

Enough

I remember the first time I had Zabaglione with work colleagues in Toronto. This delectable custard-like Italian dessert made with egg yolks and sweet wine was the epitome of sophistication to my naive young eyes. In the afterglow of a delicious, multi-course chef-prepared dinner with my brilliant radio producer colleagues, I luxuriated in my excitement and place. I had arrived.

Fast forward forty years. Mid-career, I remember how rare the sort of night I had last night was. No dinner plans or evening events to attend. Nowhere to go or make an appearance “for career reasons.” No early morning meeting to prep for. No waste of the precious hours before bedtime consumed with worry about the work week ahead.

We ordered a half-and-half pizza. All meat for him. Hawaiian for me. And yet again, the debate about whether or not pineapple belonged on a “real” pizza pie. Whatever. I want what I want. Given the explosion of take-out gastronomical choices these days, a heated discussion about the pros and cons of pineapple on pizza was pretty tame. Imagine. Having pizza and beer and it wasn’t even the weekend.

As we get older, we get to have more of these “nights in.” Presumably, we have enough coin to splurge on a pizza and beer occasionally during the week. More importantly, we now have enough time. We also have the perspective to look back and realize how good we’ve got it.

I sometimes laugh with chagrin at how taken-for-granted simple pleasures were when we were young. I also laugh because we thought bigger and better things were perpetually in store for us. Pizza and beer were “just” pizza and beer. Important business dinners ahead, perhaps. Plans to go to a new and trendy restaurant where all the “In” people hung out. I no longer take simple pleasures for granted.

At one time, we absorbed the reported goings-on at Studio 54 in New York City like thirsty camels. The cachet of stories about “beautiful people” and the “in-crowd” and everyone there being “on trend.” Those who mattered had “access.” Those without “access” didn’t matter at all. These are among the oldest rules of sales and marketing. Make things you wish to sell both alluring and inaccessible. Desire is key.

All of this comes to mind as we repeatedly see people caught up in and falling for the same old razzle-dazzle about chasing “the good life” and what that means. Can fake eyelashes and fingernails get any longer? Can bling get any blingier? Not to mention, the cars, the clothes, and the Grey Goose.

I’ve finally figured out that the good life is what we decide we want it to be. We seem to inevitably fall back on the old standards for happiness eventually. Good friends and good company. A warm and supportive family (whether of blood or of friends). People we like and trust. And the usual menu of adequate financial resources to stave off worry and want, good health, little pain (emotional or physical), and something to look forward to each day.

As I watch the ceaselessly striving today, it saddens me. The brass ring they are chasing is more ill-defined and elusive than it ever has been. The ultimate question becomes, when is enough? I have seen many and even been one of those people who got what they wanted only to regret what they had wished for. Or wondered if getting what I thought I wanted was worth what it actually cost.

It calls on us to regularly check in on our lives for our level of happiness and self-satisfaction. A form of emotional maintenance. Are we doing what we love and feeling well most of the time? Are those we love and look out for doing and feeling well, too? If not, why not?

It is a call to keep an eye on what is fundamentally important to us. We then need to protect what that is. For me, the end-state I sought was inner peace and contentment. Enough challenges and projects to keep life interesting, of course, but to steer well away from that which threatened to upend or derail my state of calm. I wanted people in my life whom I could love and who would love me. I was once not at all sure that could happen.

Fingers crossed that my apple cart is not upset without warning, If it is, I rest easy in that conviction that if the unthinkable happens, I am better prepared to weather those storms than I once was. I just need to hold fast to the mast.

The question I often asked when I was younger was what is enough? I am grateful to have landed in a place in my life where I can look around me and say with gratitude: this. More important is being able to appreciate the good in the life I am living while I am living it. That’s progress in my little world.