13 Years ago…the finale.

The letters.
I went to a treatment facility in Navarre, Fl. Full of fear, remorse and pity. I didn’t know what would become of me. I’d lost my long time pal known as sobriety, and surely the “Company” would leave me also. Couldn’t blame them, really. I’d wasted the gift. I received two letters then. Yes, actual letters. The kind that our children and grandchildren know little of. The kind of letter that takes ink. A desk and chair. Thought and concern. One, from my boss, JVB. A card that expressed heart-felt concern. Handwritten. Sentimental, even. The second, a shock. Our “Company” H.R. lady, Charlotte. A piece of paper, inked with cursive. A story, of sorts. Informing me that life is about getting back up on the horse, not staying down. Not signed formally. Or on the “Company” letterhead, but personally. I broke down, lost it. The kindness was overwhelming me. I wanted to be punished. To be abandoned. It’s what I deserved. But that didn’t happen. Not at all.
They cradled me then, the “Company.” It was during that time that life came back. That saving Dee was important again. I endured that time. Got out, got back into the swing of life. But my guilt permeated every waking moment that I spent doing “Company” things. Like a teeter-totter, were my emotions. Things wouldn’t go how I thought they should, and I’d accredit my relapse for it. After all, I screwed up, I deserved some injustice, right?
Until the day that I stood back up. Yes, people. I stood up again. Held my head level with the faces of those whom I’d felt lower than, less than. They made that possible. They provided the playing field. The “Company.” My saving graces. I hear funny, ironic type things often now. Recruiters that say, “Well, you have been with this company for a decade or so, it may show a reluctance to move forward, to change.” Or, “You’re not making x amount? well you should compare that with other companies who are paying more.”
I listen. Sometimes, I even hear them. But eventually, I laugh.
Because the real meaning of this story is about substance. Fiber. You can sing your songs about this dollar or that amount of time, but it doesn’t matter. My “Company” took my beatings. Was my voice when I couldn’t speak.

I knew for sure I was going to be fired at one point. Just prior to returning from my short-term disabilty. The VP of operations came down from Ohio. This is it, I thought. Game over. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. I couldn’t whip out my get outta jail free card…

Lunch at Sonny’s bbq. He looked at me. Right in the eyes. He said; “Dee, you have been loyal to us for 10 years now. It’s time for us to be loyal to you.”

I guess I’m grateful that God doesn’t afford me the vision to see around corners. I’d have cheated myself every time…

The facts, as they appear to me most often, are these;

1) Piss on the recruiters who say longevity equals fear.
Longevity, my friends, equals far more than the recruiters could comprehend. It equals faith. And hope. And heart and soul.
2) Fall down once.
See where it takes you. See what humility means to you.
3) Don’t be ashamed of mistakes.
You just never know what or where you’ll find yourself without them.
4) Let people love you.
At least until you can love yourself. Without the love of others, I’d not be writing this stuff down.
5) Be loyal.
Give every ounce of every fiber that you can muster. It counts. Really, it does.
6) Teach someone else what you have learned, be a mentor.
Spread your information around. Even the bad stuff. It makes a difference.

The “Company” is still there. And so am I.
I need them, folks. Need them, want them.
But today I can tell you this:
They seem to need me, want me, too.
Thank God.
My “attitude” is so different now. I’ve received promotions for it, not fired because of it.
A gift.
I’ve grown up in this place, and continue ad infinitum…
All the while they stood by me, waited and watched and witnessed.
My “Company.” 13 years ago…

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 19th, 2006 at 8:21 pm and is filed under Gut wrenchers, Jay Oh Bee. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.