Meditative Prose
Sunday, 1 February 2009
Photo by robokow
Back from Chicago. Flying in over Lake Michigan, the city looked like Burlington but a hundred times bigger. I got picked up from O’Hare in a white stretch limo, which took me, another woman who also works for the company, and the VP of Sales for a “waste management” company to our hotel. I made small-talk, but I was put off when the VP, who had a Virginia drawl, lamented that nobody in Florida wants to build landfills these days. It seems that with the current economic “downturn,” there is not as much new construction, and so less demolition & construction waste. Sales are down. How tragic!
This, apparently, is how America operates. Every company, my own definitely included, is trying to increase sales. It hardly matters what they’re selling, or whether or not anyone needs it, or if it is even good for people, let alone the land and the larger community of life. A handful of powerful people set sales budgets, and the rest of us scurry around trying to meet them, because we need to pay the rent. Meanwhile, schools don’t teach kids the virtues of frugality, living simply, or even how to determine what is truly necessary — because that would be bad for the economy! (A hundred and fifty years ago, a good friend of mine wrote a book that deals with this, among other things.)
The trip wasn’t as bad as I expected. My roommate and I had compatible senses of humor. He was sarcastic and definitely kept things interesting by getting on the trainers’ nerves. The other folks there ranged from holy rollers, to utterly boring retail zombies, to inoffensive people on a mandatory business trip, to a few I got along with well, including one 38-year-old guy who still skateboards. I got to see the nine acre warehouse, which is like Mecca for textbooks. I ate lots of free food. I learned some things that should make my job easier, and heard plenty of things I don’t agree with.
As long as I need this job, I think I’ll be able to do it better (i.e. with less stress for me and my co-workers) now. But mostly, this trip made me want to get out of the business of selling for the sake of selling. All I want is meaningful work. Give me clay and a pottery wheel, and I’ll happily sell bowls and vases for the rest of my life.
