At the end of every Christmas season for the past six years, I've had to recover my sanity. Here's a new blessing conferred on me, perhaps a silver lining to the present circumstances. I'm not tired. I am not still recovering from the chaos, nor am I looking at an inventory next week. I don't have to think about much, and yet, facing unemployment and with only a few days of health coverage left, I feel that I'm in reasonable shape. Here are some items on a checklist that I began in early October:
1)I have switched off all the services I didn't really need. When you start making serious budget cuts, you begin to see what you have and really need and the whole downsizing thing becomes easier. It's not very hard to see the grey areas when the numbers are there in black and white.
2)I have packed up most of my household, but this should have been an annual ritual, going through those things that just landed somewhere without a rationale or purpose. This is particularly helpful when you are putting your home on the market, as I am preparing to do.
3)I've realized that the big house meant big storage, and that in some ways, I stockpiled for future events that never came to pass because my life was overtaken by my storefront. So I have things to evaluate: would I ever use a propane-fueled bug zapper? I'm not sure, but having to deal with a lot of this junk has made me a believer in letting go.
4)I've taken what steps I can to be certain of my health before my coverage ends next week.
Had the physical, the mammogram, figured out how my medications could be pared down and covered by generics, sought advice from professionals on this topic, and I'm not half as worried as I was about going without. These are things that tend to get lost in the shuffle when you are overwhelmed by your professional life. Thank heavens, I am healthy.
5)I am not allowing myself to think of how I might fail in this transition. Of course, it could happen, but I won't enjoy the ride at all if I think about it that way. You can be positive that times are hard and life seems unfair at present. But I can control so little other than my outlook that I cling to my little life raft of hope.
6)In gathering up my worldly possessions, I've found some great stuff I didn't know I had. There's a matchbook with a photo of my parents laughing. The bedroom boxes yielded directions to a friend's home in Boston, pictures that I had forgotten, a book or two I had been searching for, and several missing pieces to mysterious items. I am absolutely sure that at some point I will find the matches and reunite them.
7)Instinct tells you that to survive, you have to be ready for anything. Since I am looking for a job that might be outside of the Mitten State, I'm packing some clothes into suitcases to be ready for travel in the next few months. If anything, this will keep me from having overflowing drawers when people stroll through (and hopefully fall in love with) my old house.
8)I'm making a mental list of what I have missed in life since I became owner of and owned by a business. I've missed music, and so I am playing more of it at home. I've missed decorating for the holidays, and so on one recent afternoon, I strung fake cranberry and popcorn chains along the railing of my front porch. I missed writing, and so I have now produced another blog, launched into the universe without a care about who might notice these thoughts.
So that's my year-end list that will endure, no matter where or how well I land.
I've taken care of as much as I can, and even though you may not be in a similar place, you have loose ends and whatnot and forgotten things that, once dealt with, can help ground you as the new year comes around. Good luck with it all and god bless us, every one.
December 26, 2009
December 9, 2009
Winning Isn't Everything
Now that I find my days at Cranesbill Books dwindling, I'm officially in transition, but that's okay. Anywhere is better than the places I've been in since I last blogged.
On January 20, 2009, I thought that I would be nudging the bookstore along forever. On December 9, 2009, I'm only two days away from being an ex-retailer, having liquidated most of my stock and announced the impending finale over the past two months. It was a war of attrition: fewer sales, fewer items in stock, fewer staffers, fewer hopes of success, fewer plans for the future. When I add up the situation, there's no avoiding the conclusion that I did all I could.
In every way, this is not an isolated event. While everyone who visited the store knows that we tried to be a perfect bookstore; instead, we finally succumbed to a perfect storm. Other stores that I admired have recently fallen to the economy, to the relentless competition of both internet and bricks-and-mortar enterprises, and to a publishing industry that did not reward independence.
So now I am unemployed, unattached to any purposeful activity other than job hunting. Partly frightening and partly exhilarating, I negotiate job listings, hopeful signs of survival, personal fears, friendly suggestions, and encouragement from those who care enough to comment. I have years of experience; I work hard at whatever I do; I never assume that a problem cannot be solved. So somehow I believe that I will land on my feet.
Continuing to write here through this period in my life is one way to share my experience and to force myself to maintain a public voice. Because winning isn't everything, and defeat creates new paths and possibilities, I hope you will be interested in what I have to say.
On January 20, 2009, I thought that I would be nudging the bookstore along forever. On December 9, 2009, I'm only two days away from being an ex-retailer, having liquidated most of my stock and announced the impending finale over the past two months. It was a war of attrition: fewer sales, fewer items in stock, fewer staffers, fewer hopes of success, fewer plans for the future. When I add up the situation, there's no avoiding the conclusion that I did all I could.
In every way, this is not an isolated event. While everyone who visited the store knows that we tried to be a perfect bookstore; instead, we finally succumbed to a perfect storm. Other stores that I admired have recently fallen to the economy, to the relentless competition of both internet and bricks-and-mortar enterprises, and to a publishing industry that did not reward independence.
So now I am unemployed, unattached to any purposeful activity other than job hunting. Partly frightening and partly exhilarating, I negotiate job listings, hopeful signs of survival, personal fears, friendly suggestions, and encouragement from those who care enough to comment. I have years of experience; I work hard at whatever I do; I never assume that a problem cannot be solved. So somehow I believe that I will land on my feet.
Continuing to write here through this period in my life is one way to share my experience and to force myself to maintain a public voice. Because winning isn't everything, and defeat creates new paths and possibilities, I hope you will be interested in what I have to say.
January 20, 2009
At A Moment of Transformation
At A Moment of Transformation
When I stood behind the counter in the days approaching the holidays, I was so honored to hear your comments about the value of my store in this community. A month earlier, in the dog days of October and November, I had seriously wondered whether the struggle was worth it. Lots of small businesses have given up, especially bookstores. How could I ever survive?
Most owners have invested heavily and put their own welfare at risk to continue in such tough times. Even with good community support, small stores have been an endangered species. I have heard that our holiday sale announced to some that we would be closing. In my mind, it was a way to mimic the large retailers and to salvage a year that was not as healthy as we had hoped. But in a small town, everything is open to interpretation.
Let me skip forward to the morning on which I am writing this blog. The inauguration will take place and I will be at the store, watching it on my trusty laptop. You can’t help being hopeful and optimistic. Even though things could get much worse, and likely will get somewhat worse, the worst can be survived. In that spirit, Cranesbill will go forward, with some changes and improvements, some experiments, and a lot of faith in our customers.
Last week, when the U.S.Air pilot landed so skillfully in the Hudson River, I thought of how much it takes to deal with the unexpected. We never expected the kind of economic downturn that ended last year. Michigan has had tougher times than many other places, and sometimes, when I have traveled elsewhere, I’ve felt that the rest of the country didn’t understand what we were going through. We were the people for whom the question of whether or not we were in a recession was more like a joke than a news story.
The miraculous series of events that saved lives was a good parable for what we as a community need to achieve. Continuing to support a downtown, a wider business community, and the cultural institutions that have developed and been supported over the years by the whole community is not equivalent to saving 155 lives, but it may require the same kind of skill and a series of best-case scenarios that emerged from the plane crash. I don’t know how it will be done, but I will do my best; thanks to all of you who have supported us no matter what our human failings. And may we all create that series of miracles that will help us continue our presence no matter how much tougher things get.
When I stood behind the counter in the days approaching the holidays, I was so honored to hear your comments about the value of my store in this community. A month earlier, in the dog days of October and November, I had seriously wondered whether the struggle was worth it. Lots of small businesses have given up, especially bookstores. How could I ever survive?
Most owners have invested heavily and put their own welfare at risk to continue in such tough times. Even with good community support, small stores have been an endangered species. I have heard that our holiday sale announced to some that we would be closing. In my mind, it was a way to mimic the large retailers and to salvage a year that was not as healthy as we had hoped. But in a small town, everything is open to interpretation.
Let me skip forward to the morning on which I am writing this blog. The inauguration will take place and I will be at the store, watching it on my trusty laptop. You can’t help being hopeful and optimistic. Even though things could get much worse, and likely will get somewhat worse, the worst can be survived. In that spirit, Cranesbill will go forward, with some changes and improvements, some experiments, and a lot of faith in our customers.
Last week, when the U.S.Air pilot landed so skillfully in the Hudson River, I thought of how much it takes to deal with the unexpected. We never expected the kind of economic downturn that ended last year. Michigan has had tougher times than many other places, and sometimes, when I have traveled elsewhere, I’ve felt that the rest of the country didn’t understand what we were going through. We were the people for whom the question of whether or not we were in a recession was more like a joke than a news story.
The miraculous series of events that saved lives was a good parable for what we as a community need to achieve. Continuing to support a downtown, a wider business community, and the cultural institutions that have developed and been supported over the years by the whole community is not equivalent to saving 155 lives, but it may require the same kind of skill and a series of best-case scenarios that emerged from the plane crash. I don’t know how it will be done, but I will do my best; thanks to all of you who have supported us no matter what our human failings. And may we all create that series of miracles that will help us continue our presence no matter how much tougher things get.
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