Requiem for a Season

Today, the Dallas Stars' season ended. I witnessed this event from a seat in the American Airlines Center. I was there when Jussi scored with his trademark shootout move, when 50 shots bounced off Jose Theodore, when 20,000 people sat shakily anticipating overtime, and when that puck somehow got by poor beleaguered Turco.

Despite the disappointingly abrupt end to this season, I will remember it fondly, for it is the season I became more than a casual fan. It is the season in which I went to my first game, bought my first piece of fan memorabilia, and learned the words to the Dallas Stars fight song by Pantera. I learned the names of all the NHL teams, the rules of the new NHL and the some of the traditions of the old, and the names, numbers, and on-ice personalities of the Stars players.

There is much hockey left to played for other teams this playoff season. I wish them all well (except for the Avs).

As for the Stars, I'll see them in about 5 months.

Addison, TX and why it is absurd

I live in a tiny, northern bump of Dallas proper wedged between two suburbs: Richardson and Addison. Richardson is a typical Dallas suburb. Lots of families, houses, schools, churches, and a smattering of office buildings. Addison is a different breed. I have lived about one block from Addison for nearly a year now, and I have yet to see a church, a school, a non-huge house, or a family. I have seen lots of restaurants, bars, fancy condos, ostentatious corporate headquarters, and yuppies though. It is a land without God, educational entities, or people outside of Nielsen's favorite age demographic.

To be fair: This is what Addison wants to be. It's massively convenient. They have about 200 restaurants crammed into 4.3 square miles, yet they still have a beautiful park with trees and fountains and promenades and bizarre massive pseudo-artistic structures. Nestled between a corporate airport, office buildings, and one of those retail-residential-restaurant complexes of which Dallas is so fond. (See Addison Circle, Mockingbird Station, and the West Village for a few examples.) Until I realized the disturbing lack of children, schools, and churches in Addison I was completely sold. You can almost walk around, and once they install the DART rail as early as 2030 (the "ambitious" date given in a recent Dallas Morning News article) it will allow people to car-lessly commute. Not that many people will, it being Dallas, but that's another post altogether.

All of this is a bit strange for a city, but the final straw is the Addison Beverage Center (ABC). Nestled just past the southern city limit of Addison is a couple of run-down liquor stores. There is a tiny sign driven into the street median confirming that you have indeed reached the Addison Beverage Center. At the end of the block, just past these fine establishments, is a stuffy brick and gold letter sign informing you that you have entered the Town of Addison. (I can't reproduce the small caps used, but trust me, it is plenty imposing.) Why they didn't just bother to put down train tracks to indicate that you are indeed on the wrong or right side of said tracks is beyond me. According to the website, the ABC has many retailers, many with specialized stocks, but I saw the dependable Hasty Beverages and Goody Goody Liquor, the K-Marts of alcohol.

Apart from the distinct line between the gilded Addison and the apparently barely tolerated ABC is the hypocrisy of the whole system. I'm sure Addison has town fathers (it doesn't seem like a place with town mothers) who declare that the ABC is there simply for the convenience of shopping within a compact geographic area. Yet the run down nature, the designation with signs, the clear demarcation between Addison and the ABC is too much to not be planned.

I don't blame Addison for not wanting liquor stores being "sin-mongering" eyesores scattered throughout a city that is a poster child for (sub)urban planning. Yet you can go get plastered at any one of those 172 restaurants that Addison so proudly advertises. I'm not a big drinker; I've had about 5 drinks in the past 6 months. I don't particularly care that the city is "dry." What does bother me is the absurdity of the situation. Why the false appearance of uprightness? Why the other-side-of-the-tracks mentality? Why did I feel like I was crossing the border to buy drugs in Tijuana when I picked up a host gift for a friend's party?

Catching Up

My computer decided to stop letting the internet work, so I haven't been able to post in several days. It has now magically recovered, so I figure I ought to post while I have the chance.

Nothing monumental has occured, but I thought I could follow up on a few topics:

1) Received TV 5 on Saturday. This time I bought an entirely different TV. Things I have discovered since receiving El Cinco:

34">30">13"
Sony>Philips
HDTV>Standard Definition

I have no idea how I have ghetto A/B analog cable yet still receive HD channels. This TV reads channels with decimal places, so all the HD channels are things like "59.3" or "61.2". I will not complain of this unexplained cable/TV miracle, as it allowed me to feel fulfilled by my investment in HDTV which really is clearly better than standard.

Meanwhile, I wrote a letter to Philips purely to make me feel better after getting 4 piece of crap TVs. Ostensibly the letter was "to inform [them] of [their] incompetence," but we really know it was to vent to them. I mean, otherwise I doubt I would have called them incompetent. Is there a greater insult than incompetence? I welcome all comments on that subject. If it's good enough, perhaps I will send angry but calm letter #2 to Philips. Perhaps I will send 4 letters total, once for each broken TV.

2) The Dallas Stars will play the Colorado Avalanche during the first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs. Go Stars. A friend of mine has put together the most elaborate interactive bracket I've ever seen. Check it out and be amazed. My favorite detail is the link to each team's website via their logo. [FYI: The bracket is for a pool. Let me know if you want info, and it's before Friday afternoon. To Homeland Security/other gov't agencies who may be monitoring me: No, of course we are not gambling. That would be wrong. And Un-American.]

3) Food for thought on executive compensation. "If salaries of the average worker had kept up with that of a CEO [from 1990-2005], he or she would be making $110,136. Had the minimum wage risen at the same pace as CEO compensation, it would stand today at $23.01." The article provides some fascinating statistics even if it doesn't really offer any ideas for solutions to this problem (if you agree that it's a problem, because there are arguments to be made that it is not).

4) I'm currently reading a biography of Joseph Smith, the "Mormon Prophet", who wrote/discovered (depending on your religious leanings) the book of Mormon. (My friend John the religious studies major lent it to me when I lent him Saturday.) Not being Mormon, I, like the author, think that Smith wrote rather than discovered the "Golden Bible." While I expected to find the story interesting, I did not expect to find it so disturbing. I had not really thought of the implications of an individual founding a religion that becomes established. It's easy to dismiss the Branch Davidians, the Heaven's Gate followers, and other flash-in-the-pan cults. But something as permanent, respected, and widespread as Mormonism that also formed around a single, charismatic, autocratic leader is something of an anomaly and in many ways is more troubling even if the members aren't wearing matching Nikes and drinking poisoned Kool-Aid. The big question: is it all that different from being a Christian and following the teachings of Jesus? I would say yes because of my personal faith, but it's interesting to ponder how one might feel differently if one were separated from Jesus by the less than 200 years we are separated from Smith.

That's pretty much everything interesting (or not interesting) in my life. I'll try to post more often, not that it really matters, just that I figure I should post semi-regularly if I've committed myself to maintaining a blog.

The Past 5 Days

So, the three people (estimate) who read my blog are probably wondering where I've been. I know that you are all dying of suspense for my next fascinating post. I don't blame you, I am pretty fascinating.

[Note: It's a good thing you all know me, or you would think I was an arrogant little snot.]

While I did not plan for this to be a blog where I (merely) talk about the banalities of my life, I think that some occasional news about my doings is not totally unwarranted.

Friday:
Went to work, flew to Chapel Hill, NC. Met up with my best friend from high school (Hil), her husband (Graham), and their cat (Binx).

Saturday:
Slept in a bit then ate an authentic Southern brunch complete with grits (verdict: *shrug*). Hil and I got our hair cut then picked up her husband from work and ate sushi. The three of us met up with an old friend from my early years at SMU (Drew). We went to a party with the English grad students and various other UNC-affiliated folk. I drank some "Danger Punch" (grapefruit juice, rum, and something coconut), expressed some opinions about E.M. Forster, pet the cutest corgie I've ever seen, and met a lot of really nice and very interesting people. After that we recruited a few people from the party, ventured out in the rain in search of some low-key revelry, and ended up at the West End Wine Bar on historic Franklin St. After some pinot grigio and conversation, we walked down to the IP3 for some late night pizza. Following the total decimation of a large pizza, we headed back to Hil and Graham's apt for board games.

Sunday:
Spent most of the day shopping and spent entirely too much money. Eventually met up with Graham and Drew for dinner at the inimitable Pepper's Pizza. Was made to drink Pabst Blue Ribbon. Nothing like really cheap beer from a can (Yuengling wasn't an option) with AC/DC blaring in the background. After that we went to Visart Video, rented Wedding Crashers, and closed out the evening.

Monday:
The three of us drove to Wilmington where we ate lunch and did some exploring. Then we drove to Wrightsville Beach. Amazingly enough, it was my first beach trip ever. At low 60s, it was a bit chilly for sunbathing-appropriate clothing, but we walked around on the beach, pretended to suntan, ran up to the ocean for the sake of it, picked up seashells, etc. We ate some amazing frozen custard before we drove back to Chapel Hill, grabbed dinner at Carrburritos (best burritos ever, with amazingly Carlos O'Kelley's-like salsa), and had girls' night in (Graham was banished upstairs).

Tuesday:
Thoroughly explored Chapel Hill, particularly Franklin Street and the UNC campus. Spent the last little bit of time with Hil before another long separation (location-wise, as we communicate multiple times daily), then went to the airport, flew back to Dallas, picked up my cat, and made it back to my apt by 10 pm.

This morning I went back to work. Nothing against work, but it is indeed inferior to vacation.

Weekend in two days.

Meanwhile, I need to find TV 5 so that I can return TV 4. (TV 4 doesn't work perfectly either, although it is the least broken of the 4 TVs.) Tonight, however, is slated for recovery. I had a great long weekend, but I'm exhausted.

Turnover, Max Barry, and France

Currently, young people in France are staging riots to defeat a proposition to make it possible to fire employees under 26 within 2 years of employment. Not just in France, but throughout Europe, 20-somethings graduate from college and not just want, but expect a job for life. In France, not only do dismissals for any reason require large severance payouts, employees can go to court to challenge ANY dismissal--and more often than not, courts rule that the employer does not have the right to fire the worker. These young people experience an unemployment rate of 22%, yet refuse the opportunity to work without assurance of employment indefinitely.

Being a cynical American whose second manger in six months is moving on to bigger and better things, I find the prospect of a job for life not just fanciful, but vaguely horrifying. A job for life? Why on earth does anyone find that appealing? While I would enjoy being guaranteed employment for life, being "stuck" in a job for life seems disturbing to me.

[Notice to Corporate Spies: I have no intention of leaving. I like my job. Don't fire me.]

Then I read a book over the past weekend and wonder if I'm not just putting an idealistic spin on some of those unfortunate conservative impulses that occassionally arise.

Max Barry takes a much darker view on the idea of "employment at will." I don't know what Hewlett-Packard did to him, but the bitterness filling the book he cheekily dedicated to them is pervasive, shocking, and (often) hysterical.

His (condensed) take on the subject:

"There are stories--legends, really--of the 'steady job.' Old-timers gather graduates around the flickering light of a computer monitor and tell stories of how the company used to be, back when a job was for life. [...] The problem with employees, you see, is everything. You have to pay to hire them and pay to fire them, and, in between, you have to pay them. They need business cards. They need computers. They need ID tags and security clearances and phones and air-conditioning and somewhere to sit. [...] They want raises. They want management to notice when they do a good job. They want to know what's going to happen in the next corporate reorganization. And lawsuits! They sue for sexual harrassment, for an unsafe workplace, for discrimination in thirty-two different flavors. For--get this--wrongful termination. Wrongful termination! These people are only here because you've brought them into the corporate world. Suddenly you're responsible to them for life? [...] The old-timers' stories are fairy tales, dreams of a world that no longer exists. They rest on the bizarre assumption that people somehow deserve a job. The graduates know better; they've been taught that they don't" (Company 41-43).

Now, I realize that the complaints of the French and the satire of Max Barry are aimed at different targets--respectively, the government and corporations. Yet the underlying argument is similar. What, precisely, do employers owe employees (and vice-versa)? What is the correct balance between protecting the bottom line and protecting your employees? What is the tipping point between treating your employees like "assets" or "resources" and guaranteeing them employment under any circumstances? Do you scare employees to make them efficient, or do you care about them to make them grateful?

********************************

As far as Company goes, I recommend it with reservations. It's essentially 1984 set in a corporation and somehow made funny. The language is bitingly clever, and the concept is real enough to make a statement but absurd enough you don't have to identify with the characters. The plot started out strong but flagged a bit towards the end. Barry really can't blame himself for the slightly disappointing ending; in order to make his argument he had to write himself into a corner where his only options were to be all Nick Hornby and have no ending, end in despair, or end in ridiculousness.