Last Thursday marked my third anniversary in Germany. In all the excitement, I actually forgot about this milestone, but I'll come back to that in a minute. First, let me catch you up on the fun filled adventures of the recent weeks.
Our company does an annual physical inventory at the end of November. However, because we've had so much turnover in the past few years, not everyone in the management team was as clued in as they should be. Around the second week of November during our weekly management meeting, when we went around the table to allow each person to give their update or comment, I asked the question, "Just when are we going to do this inventory?"
I was particularly curious, as the general manager, the finance manager, and the materials manager (namely, the three guys who should have this task firmly marked on their calendar) had sort of skipped over the topic as if it wasn't going to be done. My personal interest was twofold: one, I tend to have to run my program's PI personally, and second, we were about to have to make a pretty significant announcement to the workers, one that wouldn't be particularly positive. When you're planning a physical inventory, you need alert people who are prepared to make quality counts of the materials. You certainly don't want them distracted and not focusing on the task at hand.
However, in this same period, people were beginning to talk about the need for me to travel to Prague for a couple of weeks, and I needed to see how we could slot everything in. Doing a physical inventory over a couple of days, then doing month end close, then whisking away to Prague for a fortnight struck me as being a bit busy.
At any rate, as usual, we elected to perform the inventory on the 27th of November, which meant at the close of business on Thankgiving Thursday, our repair lines ceased production. I then jumped into gear, making all the normal preparations for the following day's physical inventory count. This required me to back up the system, run a couple of reports, then print out the count sheets that would be used the following morning.
The printing function was particularly fun this year. I've got the system set in a way so that each stock location gets its own separate sheet. This makes it much easier for the individual to count (as there are few lines on the page), but the drawback is that this does kill a tree. I kicked out about 2000 sheets of paper.
However, this year I used our superduper printer, which I had purchased earlier in the year for printing out the repair letter we send out with each repaired notebook. (Dear Mr Customer (in whichever language you want), We are sorry your laptop was broken, but we're glad to have been able to fix it for you...blah blah blah). Thus, instead of the 2 1/2 hour nightmare I experienced last year with multiple paper jams and delays, I got this task completed in about 20 minutes. In fact, the printer was going so fast that I started to become uneasy, thinking of a few Stephen King short stories I've read where normal office products come to life and start eating people. Thankfully, this didn't happen, though the security guard was momentarily panicked as he walked by the frantic printer as it shot out 100s of sheets per minute.
So, as most of America was sitting down for Thanksgiving dinner, I was lugging half a tree upstairs to the "command central," where the inventory would be managed. For control purposes, each sheet has to be hand stamped. Why our company uses only two stamps is beyond me, but I was more interested in getting my sheets stamped so I could go home.
One gets a better idea of what it's like to work in a post office when you start stamping so many sheets of paper. I worked with a colleague and together we found a system where we could zip through this process pretty quickly. Of course, once or twice I accidentally stamped his hand, but hey ho, casualties are bound to happen.
In about an hour, we got my program's sheets completed and logged with the finance manager. I excused myself for the evening, as it was already about 9.30pm, and I wanted to go home. We would begin about 7.30 the following morning.
Pleased with the efficiency up to this point, I prepared myself mentally for the following day by having a few pints in the pub before going to bed at 1.
At 5am, I was awake, trying to force a liter of espresso down me, then took the train back to work. I tend to be pretty psyched up about inventory day, because there's a lot at stake, and it has to be done right. Otherwise, the auditors might find something out of order, and request a recount. My goal: to complete an accurate inventory during the course of the day as quickly as possible.
Because I have to run the PI by myself (for my program), I am sort of left alone by the rest of my colleagues, who have to toil laborously with the other programs. The systems are more complicated, there's more confusion, and I'm always glad to keep my distance from it, despite the personal stress I endure while getting the team through the task.
At 8am, the whistle blew, and we began counting. I ran about like a little kid making sure everyone knew what they were doing, and had a few moments of frustration with one of the guys in the warehouse (who has dealt with materials all his life) who seemed to be confused about what we doing. I struggled to control my patience with him because he seems to forget how to do something almost as soon as he learns it. (Anyone who has seen the movie Young Guns can think of the line, "He ain't all there, is he?") The fact that he's the warehouse lead exasperates me, as typically, I should not expect him to have to ask me where a particular stock location is, particularly since HE is the one who set up the locations in the first place. I delegated the task of counting screws to him, went outside for a handful of ciggy, then headed upstairs to begin keying in the inventory sheets. (basically, for those who haven't done this before, you count up every physical piece of material you have, type it all into the system, then compare it to what your inventory report says you're supposed to have. When they match, you're done. It's as simple as that).
With the help of one colleague, I keyed in the count sheets as they were completed, and by just after lunch, we were ready to reconcile, and recount anything if necessary. The 15 or so people sitting in the next room waiting to do the same thing for the other programs in the facility were just getting started.
Uwe and I noticed that we were about 2 hours ahead of schedule, based on last year's inventory. That didn't mean we were deliberately rushing, but we did like the fact that each year we had improved upon the year previous.
Our counts were really good, and I wasn't suprised to find that we had very little to reconcile. In the end, we were about .8% positive, meaning a very minor difference between the system and reality. I think even Chris would say, "that's pretty damn good."
My finance manager, the ops and materials managers agreed, and we booked it. I dismissed the team around 3pm, and within the hour, I called it a day myself. We had accomplished exactly what I wanted us to.
Because things looked so good, I told my team that I would personally handle the audit that would take place with the accounting firm on Saturday morning. If they found any discrepancy, I would sort it out myself.
To celebrate, I went home and watched Love Actually and ate a pint of ice cream. It's not such a bad way to spend a Friday night, and my evening got better as I skyped with Lynne for a couple of hours. Although I was very tired, I rallied around midnight, and went off to the pub for a quick beer, which turned into a three hour session when I ran into a few people I hadn't seen in awhile who were in full swing celebration, also.
OK, Saturday morning was a little fuzzy, but with another couple of espressos, I was able to hop a train back to work and meet the accounting auditors at 9.30. Some of the counting teams still had more to do, and all of the data input people were frantically entering data, so I got to be the first part of the audit. Everything checked out, and 45 minutes later, I was dismissed. My bit was done.
Back I went to Frankfurt, did the shopping, hit the gym, and felt pretty good about things. I chatted with my parents and grandparents to catch up on their Thanksgiving festivities, then slid into the pub later for just a couple. I ran into Nev, who was drunkenly expressing his joy and celebration of marking his fourth year in Germany. He's one of those ex-Pats that I do like to see regularly, particularly since he simply finds a reason to enjoy anything and everything, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant it might be. Sure, his enthusiasm was fuelled with a couple of days worth of pints, but apart from that, I was touched by how appreciative he was of his experience.
The next day, I ran into him again, as I was watching Arsenal get mauled by Chelsea. As a Newcastle fan, he was not so interested in the outcome, though he was leaning in favor or the Arse. Unfortunately, his indifference didn't come at a good time for me, especially since he was still on his positive high of the celebrations of his fourth year (he basically repeated everything he had said to me the night previous). That said, I enjoyed his company and comfort as the final whistle blew on Arsenal's horrific performance.
I returned to work on Monday morning with a bit of anxious anticipation. True, the inventory was behind us, but I knew the week would be a bit tough. It was time to inform my team, and the other workers within the repair site that we were about to relocate my repair program. Fortunately, this task didn't rest on my shoulders, but instead the general manager of the site. Though this announcement would come later in the week, I was already a bit anxious about the reaction.
I'm sure in the weeks and months ahead I'll have many more stories about my personal thoughts about this iminent change, but right now, the events are still fresh and I need to time to let them become more humorous than they actually are. Fact is, management decided earlier in the year that our company could perform the European repairs for my customer more cheaply in our Prague facility. This came as no surprise to me, but the decisions on how it's being transitioned have led to a lot of questions, lots of anxiety, and thankfully, lots of humor, cos' with all of this comes a whole new fuckload of stress.
In the past few weeks, I've been on some conference calls with our UK and Prague facilities discussing the transition. The expectation is that my facility will teach everything we know to Prague, and they'll pick everything up in a short period and continue the program exactly where we left off. Our expectation (in Germany) is that the guys in Prague would actually have a fucking clue as to what they would be doing. Of course, one might argue that it's nigh on impossible to transfer three years of information to someone in three weeks, especially if the recipient of this information has never done computer repair logistics before.
Throw in a bit of confusing information from the customer about future volumes, and suddenly it's deja vu. Three years ago, I arrived in Germany to roll out a simply repair program that turned into the wildest, most complicated thing I've ever done in my life, and now, we're about to do the same thing all over again, just a few hundred kilometers to the east.
I've been effectively written out of the program by the boss, but the caveat is: I will transition the program and remain involved until completion of said transition. Um, define completion. It took me almost 2 years to get things stable in Germany, and that was at the expense of a great many things related to my personal life, unfortunately. Am I prepared to go through this all over again?
When I was about 5, I sang in the children's choir at our church. I recently remembered a story my mom used to tell about when our choir sang a little song about anger. During the chorus of the song, we were supposed to put on angry faces and sort of stomp around the stage (during the performance, of course). Apparently, I really got into this, as the choir director commented to my parents that Bryan was pretty enthusiastic during this song, really stomping around as we sang, "Very angry, very very angry..." Now, the whole idea behind the song was how it's ok to express your emotions, whether they be happy, sad, or angry, etc. One has to find ways of releasing agression. Now, when you're five years old, it's a little cute when you storm about with an angry expression on your face. (sort of surprising, though, that a little kid who was simply playing with legos, learning piano, and reading a lot was already showing signs of angst)
35 years on, it's not quite so cute.
I've been more than a little wound up in recent weeks as I've been waiting for this announcement to the team. On one hand, it's the nature of the business, and it's the only way we can continue the business relationship with the customer. The fact that I've been involved up til now and the fact that I must be involved in the future shows that my efforts have not been in vain. That's a positive. On the other hand, I am angered, frustrated, and deeply saddened by the fact that my colleagues, the team that I've built in the past years, are simply going to be told that, "times up, the program's going away, most of you will lose your jobs in the next couple of months." I'm one of those guys that will be around til the lights go out, but unfortunately, the same can't be said for many of the others. There simply won't be work for them, and that means we'll have to terminate contracts for those that we can't find spots for.
It's not a particularly pleasant situation to be in. Thus, I've had a few moments recently where I've stormed about singing a little childhood song to myself, mostly in the privacy of my own home. However, people have certainly noticed that I've not been the most chipper.
Fortunately, I am accepting what has to happen, and though I will continue to be emotional through this, I'm also recognizing the new opportunity and challenges as necessary things that have to be as positive as possible. Additionally, I continue to find the humor wherever possible, even if it's accompanied with a bit of dark sarcasm.
In a recent conference call where we discussed the go live date for Prague, it took 15 minutes for us to confirm that we would begin on the SEVENTH of December instead of the SECOND. It seems that cockney English isn't so easy to understand by guys in Czech Republic who speak English as a 3rd or 4th language.
"Second?"
"No, seventh."
"Second?"
"No, the seventh!"
"Ok, we'll begin on the second."
AAAGGGHHH!
I actually let this debate go on for a few minutes longer than I should have, and eventually jumped in and clarified to all parties. I found this even more funny since at times I'm not the most articulate of individuals, either. Once, I was having a conversation with my mother, and responded to the question, "what's new?" with the response, "I'm grooving to Spanish electronica and going to a lot of tapas bars."
She started doing the little nervous laughter that she tends to do when she's thrown into an awkard situation, (like when someone says fuck too much during a conversation, which has happened more than once during her trips to visit me in Germany) and I later found out that she has misunderstood my comments, and was unsure on how to react to the newfound fact that her son was currently into Spanish erotica and frequenting topless bars.
So on this past Monday, I certainly had a lot on my mind and almost forgot that I had planned to go see a show that night after work. In fact, due to some new developments on the whole transiton of the program, I almost didn't get out of work in time, but in the end, I caught my train, and strolled into a local club at 9pm, just in time.
10 years ago, I was at a SXSW show with Tim, and saw Miles Hunt of the Wonderstuff play an accoustic set. It blew me away. His humbled stage presence and ability to make a simple tune sound so great just reaffirmed for me why I had begun playing guitar. Like Joe Jackson has influenced my piano style, Miles Hunt was one of three people that motivated me to pick up a guitar in the first place. It's not that he's a brilliant guitarist, though he is talented. It's more his ability to write a decent song, both with the right melody and lyrics, and capture the right feeling for the moment.
The fact that he was playing a double bill with one Wayne Hussey, of the Mission UK (the second person who influenced my guitar playing, among other things) was certainly going to make for a decent evening. I was not disappointed.
Miles and Wayne are old friends, going back to tours from 20 years ago when the bands were still together. Now, they are in their 4os and 50s, playing small gigs on a regular basis, and just simply having fun. Miles played the first hour accompanied by a girl on violin; primarily new material from their recent album. It was nice to hear some new stuff, and equally nice to hear a few oldies, both from Miles' solo work as well as a couple from the Stuffies.
After they finished, they mingled with the audience a little, then Wayne came on stage, and started his own little session with us. Last year, he played a similar set (it seems he's quite popular in Germany, among other European countries) where he simply asked the audience which songs they wanted to hear.
Thus, Wayne rolled through many of the tunes any Mission fan would want to hear, and every so often would play a new song or two. As he did last year, he alternated between guitar and piano, in between slugs he took from the ever present bottle of wine next to him. Though he is starting to show is age more and more, his voice is still as strong and deep as ever before, and the small but lively crowd responded with great appreciation. This was no insane punk show, more a quiet accoustic evening, which I most definitely needed.
I stood quietly, sipping my beer, mezmerized by both sets. I ignored the folks around me who weren't much interested in Miles and Erica and kept chatting annoyingly throughout. I concentrated on the music, and, as I said, was not disappointed. I can't quite say I was ecstatic, but I was able to push the thoughts of what was to come later in the week to the back of my mind, at least for a few hours.
Two days later, I stood humbly by our general manager as he announced to my repair line of the coming events. I looked around at the faces of my colleagues as they listened to the short speech, and watched them as they slunk back to their desks afterwards. Though the rumors have been rife over the past two months, the word was now official: because we had done so well as a team and as program, our reward is that the work would be whisked away to another repair location in another country. well done.
My heart was a little heavy Wednesday evening, and it didn't help that Arsenal lost another match. I realized once again that even though I'm a huge fan of the club and a passionate football fan, there are certainly more important things to wonder about. (though what we're going to do about our inability to score goals while our top strikers are injured still weighs heavily on the brain...)
As I went to bed Wednesday night, I wondered how I'd feel after the site wide meeting to be held on Thursday. No one likes to hear about uncertainty within the company, particularly at the end of the year, just as seasonal festivities are hitting full swing. As I expressed this concern, a wise Nadja responded that it was exactly for this reason that I needed to be around friends at Thursday evenings outing for Gaenseessen, a seasonal, traditional goose dinner in a local German restaurant.
I'm glad I pushed my own thoughts to the side and joined everyone for a nice evening in the restaurant, followed by a couple of drinks in the pub. It was good to be around people close to me, and though I was a bit subdued, I did enjoy myself, and it was during dinner I realized that indeed, that very day marked my third year in Deutschland. Quite the milestone, and quite the adventure that I've had over the past years.
And it's really just going to continue, right?
On Monday, I'll be in Prague, digging in to get a potential train wreck of a transition sorted out into a functional, successful repair program. And, perhaps more importantly, my own motivation to continue to become a better Bryan. Thanks for that reminder, Nadja.
I got home last night and was delighted to find a little picture of a new McKee waiting for me. I smiled at the beautiful picture: a little sleeping one snuggled up to a stuffed lamb. I thought briefly about the recurring theme of stuffed animals and their significance in my own life, and that's kept a smile on my face this Saturday morning as I listen to a little mix of Vince Guaraldi, Moenia, Miles Hunt, and the Mission UK.
keep the faith.
bryan
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