Obsolescence

I don't leave jobs. Jobs leave me. The introvert in me would rather put up with less than ideal working conditions and compensation than face the prospect of meeting new people. The first job I got out of school was great and I stayed there five years. I would have stayed longer but the company left for the west coast. None of my friends were making the move so I opted to do the same. Either way I was going to be working with new people anyway. I stayed at my next job almost twenty years. In that time the company grew and shrank. Products and strategies shifted. People came and went but a small core group of us remained steady. Finally, a last attempt at reinvention failed and bankruptcy soon followed. Even then, we stayed as management desperately tried to peddle the technology. At the very last hour, a large corporation stepped in, bought the company and hired us on. We survived a few more years before it was decided our branch did not fit with the new corporate vision and we were finally truly closed. I don't leave jobs. Jobs leave me.

Being there at the end of a company is a surreal thing. In those last days after it was announced that our branch was closing, we worked mostly on documenting what we had been doing and cleaning out the place. The back closets still housed ghosts from earlier decades - computers, once fought over for their processor power, now abandoned because of their inability to run the latest operating systems. As we surveyed the place, a general rule of thumb emerged: If it plugged in, it was probably obsolete and worthless. The simpler the item, the more likely it could be reused. Waste baskets, tables, scissors all had value. Computers, monitors and televisions, not so much. The main exception to the "plug-in" rule was in the break room where the toaster, coffee maker and refrigerator still served a purpose.

Obsolescence is such a cruel thing. How quickly do our shiny new toys become tomorrow's afterthought, replaced by something even shinier? We are living in a time of rapid change. Technology is hurtling forward at a pace not seen before. Still, for all the new gadgets, how often do we see something truly unique that can actually stand the test of time? Most inventions, it seems, just replace their most recent predecessor, as if we are still just trying to get it right. And in the meantime, our stacks of records, cassettes, CDs, etc. grow and gather dust in a corner.

I started thinking about all this obsolescence as I watched my oldest son registering for high school. When I think back about the classes I took in high school and college, I realize that many of the technical ones, the ones tied to my major, were the like the records I was listening to at the time - useful but quickly replaced by something different. Mathematics, English, writing, these were the tables and scissors - still as useful today as they were then.

The Nerd's Revenge

I imagine him, sitting in his non-descript cube, chuckling to himself. He's a programmer and, while he works on fitness software, he shuns any physical activity himself. In high school, he was the smart, fat nerd - the natural prey of the jock set. They teased him mercilessly. Those early encounters etched a dislike and disgust of exercise on his soul. Still, these are lean times and sometimes one must agree to even the most distasteful of occupations. So, here he sits, working on a workout application. He must realize that not all the people who use his application are like the jocks that once tormented him. He must know that some of them were nerds in high school too, just like him. Yes, he knows these things but he doesn't care. If you use his app, you are an exerciser and he has only disdain for you.

Yes, I imagine him chuckling as he licks the donut frosting from his fingers and imagines me running. I run and my iPod sifts through my music, ignoring anything with a driving beat and instead selecting the slowest, most quiet options. I thought I'd removed all these songs but I was mistaken. I'd forgotten about Van Morrison's Avalon Sunset album. Yesterday, I was about two miles into my run when his algorithms zeroed in on the track, "Coney Island", which is basically a spoken poem. Yes, I'm sure that's just the sort of thing he was hoping to find. Chuckle, chuckle.

Post Holidays Adjustment

I typically take some time off between Christmas and the end of the year. Time off from work should mean more time to exercise and cook healthy meals. Instead, the disruption in my regular schedule results in less of these things. For example, I get most of my exercise by running a couple of days a week over my lunch hour. When I'm not working, there is no reason to sacrifice lunch for running. Theoretically, I could do both. Instead, the unstructured days start late and involve much lounging and munching. Meals fall victim to group laziness, occurring at irregular intervals with ease of preparation given more weight than healthfulness when selecting dishes.

Speaking of more weight, this sloth-like lifestyle combined with an abundance of holiday treats resulted in me adding a few pounds to my already ample midsection. Oh, I tried to be good, telling myself that I would focus on the veggie tray instead of the cookies. But I can get veggies any time of the year. Christmas cookies are only available at, well, Christmas. How bad can it be, really? It's not a long term relationship. The Christmas cookies are just a fling. I'll return, hat in hand, to the carrots and celery after the holidays.

And so, here we are, after the holidays. The extra weight and the week off have left me feeling out of shape. I go to the Y and it's busier than normal, folks trying to keep new resolutions, no doubt. They look at me and I'm sure they think I'm also a newcomer. I feel like a newcomer as I huff and puff around the track, belly jiggling with each heavy footfall. I want to tell these new faces that I'm not like them, that I'm a regular, in it for the long haul.

Yes, I could tell them all that I regularly work out. I could show them the fine physique that they too could have by dedicating themselves to a consistent exercise schedule. That should clear them out by February.