1978, and the Joys of Work Life at Peak Shopping Season

It's the year 1978 and I didn't really throw myself into the experience in an overly worthwhile way.

Instead I dusted bookshelves, windex'd windows and picture frames, and vacuumed one room.

Cycled off to two sets of allotment gardens through the rain and slight wind, returning with four damson plums, two pears, two apples, oxygen pumping through my arteries, happy recollections of glowing quince, magenta asters, and a deep autumn fragrance of freshness and seasonally appropriate rotting as if the earth were gently sagging in on itself and reabsorbing the leaves and fruits.

And I went shopping at the organic grocery store for mushrooms, figs (the best I've ever tasted fresh: sweet in a sharp, sun-ripened way, tangy in the centre), milk, celery stalks, and one or two other odds and ends.

Discovered recipes from the 1970s in our kitchen pantry: One, a compendium of recipes for zucchini, including apparently the zucchini bread recipe that I tasted once when my paternal grandmother made it around 1990 and never forgot. The other, a booklet of recipes that accompanied a yoghurt maker that has long vanished. In the end, I ended up not cooking.

Practiced typewriting again. This time it was more fun, although per the lesson I had to type out words I'd gotten wrong until I finished a whole row without a mistake.

We had our traditional croissants and coffee for breakfast, and then T. came over. She made boiled eggs for all of us, then concocted a salad of tomatoes, spinach, egg, and dressing.

Ge. only returned from his morning shift at almost 4 p.m.

At that point I was going to drop off a cloth bag of donations for Ukrainian refugees. It was the only delivery in the parking lot this time, due likely to the rain, and the drop-off point was unmanned today. (Or, to bow to 2022, un-personed.) I felt rather awkward after I'd cycled away when the rain started up again, as there were two soap bars in there that are likely not rainproof, and a soggy bag is never fun...

Speaking of which, a pair of jeans is now also drying and waiting for the wash, as my rain jacket sheltered me reasonably well but didn't extend to my legs. I don't think I've bought clothing for a few years (hazard of my profession; one becomes chronically disgusted with excess), but a cycling outfit with rain trousers might not be amiss.

It's becoming chillier and I'm wearing the slippers that my godfather-and-uncle M. gave me for my birthday, as my toes clearly weren't enjoying the prolonged contact with cold hardwood floors and draughts. On my first outing today, the fragrance of woodsmoke lightly lay on the air.

A lot of acorns are also rolling over the cobblestones; and underneath old horse chestnut trees, car tires had mashed the green pulp into thick clusters of little fireworks on the asphalt.

My mother and I briefly met at a restaurant-café with M., who shared his plump, sweet and comfort-foody Kaiserschmarren with plum compôte, and sipped on a coffee with amaretto biscuit while debating with us about the repeat of Berlin's last election cycle.

*

As for work, it's a bit 'First World problemy' and not the worst time of my life (teenagerhood and my 20s were a great preparation for adulthood in setting a remarkably low bar), but in the moment it feels really challenging.

Like in March 2020, the workload is so brutal that it is turning colleagues against each other; I've heard of and seen in person tensions that make you unhappy to think about. I haven't been perfect myself, and turned into a regular Rumpelstiltzkin last Friday. ... The top manager who consistently sets a clear boundary against overwork is herself overworked and out sick again: her good beginnings are a wasteland. Power vacuums are popping up as people try to fill in for others who are burned out or absent for the moment. The overzealousness adds another frenetic impulse to the overall stress. The frequency with which colleagues are going behind each others' backs about projects is awe-inspiring.

I suggested in the last team lead meeting that maybe it doesn't make sense to put events in each others' calendars if we see they're already full, putting meeting on top of meeting to squeeze it all in. In my view, this unhealthy practice is being led from the top of the company downward. A few team leads seemed to Very Much agree with this, but then two very well-meaning and assertive higher-level colleagues assumed this meant that we just needed to follow proper meeting protocol and we needed to say when we have too much. I caved into my Canadian side and subsided instead of buckling down.

— I crafted an announcement afterward, reminding everyone in the company that Tuesday and Thursday mornings are supposed to be meetings free, including the advice the higher-level colleagues gave amongst the bullet points. I ran it by the team lead group and left it open for comment or objection for about two or three hours, and then posted it in the company-wide channel, attributing it to the team lead group. — Which I guess makes me one of the people who kind of go behind people's backs... But whatever my overimpulsiveness, if it saves two or three colleagues severe stress, I think it's hopefully worth it.

This weekend I'm not even complaining so much to my family, mostly because I don't want T. to hear about work stuff during her holiday; but also because it is just tiring to think about. At least I'm not crying quietly into my breakfast as I've sometimes done on weekends... and it should all be over by Christmas as the shopping season settles down.

I also will guiltily confess that I actually look forward to colleagues' holidays in at least two cases (not in my own team). I really, really like them personally and our professional collaborations can also be very fruitful; but the stress is so much lower when they're not bursting into my work days at random moments like wrecking balls.