quietlyradical

Social media presents a strange but fascinating dichotomy within modern life.  At times we lament the way in which the endless quest for “likes” and “friends” and the seemingly never-ending parade of dinner plate photos has replaced genuine conversation and connection.  O

On the other hand, there are rare instances when it is possible to catch a glimpse into the hearts and souls of a few people, whether they are old high school friends or those with a distant and often convoluted connection to our lives in the style of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.  I recently had such an experience.

For the first twenty-six years of my working career, I dutifully climbed the corporate ladder at a relatively well-known American company.  My rise to the ranks of middle management included several required corporate relocations resulting in a seven-year stint at a branch office located in central Michigan.  Not long ago, I received an invitation to join a private Facebook group for those select few who had spent at least a part of our illustrious careers in this quaint but also problematic location.  My experiences since joining have offered a view of some of the individuals who regularly inhabited my “past life” which I never would have anticipated.  There are, as to be expected, the predictable announcements of personal milestones, both joyous and sorrowful.  Curiously, however, amid the usual photos of young people in graduation regalia, smiling grandchildren, and sadly, the ever-increasing number of obituaries for our dearly departed former colleagues, lay traces of something deeper.  While I am not an expert or a corporate psychologist by any stretch of the imagination, I do have some theories regarding this phenomenon, nonetheless.

There was a time in corporate America where, if one were fortunate, skilled, and determined enough, it was not unusual to settle in to a secure working environment and thrive, often relatively happily and comfortably for the next thirty to forty years until retirement.  Along the way one could experience time-honored traditions, such as company picnics, anniversary parties, and the sharing of food and friendship with work colleagues who often came to represent a kind of surrogate family.

However, roughly twenty years ago, this idyllic corporate existence began to disintegrate, slowly, indeed almost imperceptibly at first, but eventually ending in an avalanche of layoffs, office closures, and broken trust.  The evidence of the collateral damage done to the lives of previously loyal and devoted employees can be discerned through the content of their Facebook posts, which sometimes range from the completely benign, to the mildly bitter, but thankfully, stop short, at least so far, of full-on, “going postal” style venom.

The office building itself was constructed in the 1950s, in what soon became a residential area.  While unusual when compared to the “industrial park” office locations of today, the arrangement actually was quite fitting, given that this particular company built its reputation upon the concept of “neighborliness.” With the passage of time, however, came irreversible changes to the neighborhood, and this particular branch office closed in 2005. Having sat vacant for more than a decade, the building itself was demolished not long ago.  It seemed, at least for some, that seeing our former workplace reduced to rubble unearthed all kinds of long-buried emotional artifacts. Some have been poignant and touching while others reveal the brutal sense of betrayal which remains unhealed these many years later.

One very telling exchange involved how this group of former employees handled the various company mementos that they had collected over the years. Those who had retired before the shattering reorganization and that resulted in the office shutdown still held on to these keepsakes as cherished reminders of fulfilling careers at a company that, at one point in time, seemed to genuinely care.  Those who had lived through the changing times, however, had a much different reaction, often confessing that these once-treasured items had since been relegated to local landfills, although even among those who disposed of their items, there were stark differences.  For example, one man shared how he had unceremoniously tossed the items out on the day the office closed, his underlying anger barely concealed.  In contrast, another woman spoke with a certain level of sadness about finally letting the items go since they no longer served as the symbols of loyalty and pride that they once had. I even came to a realization about myself as well.  Even though I have lived through much of the pain and angst brought about by the office closure, I had relocated to corporate headquarters in another state about ten months or so before the location went completely dark.  However, my “Spidey-senses” somehow told me that the downsizing trend was likely to continue.  In my early 40s, too young for either traditional retirement or a coveted corporate “buyout”, I opted to return to college for a master’s degree and a completely new career.  So, it was probably more than coincidental that I chose a course of action that could be viewed either as “opportunistic” or “practical” depending upon one’s perspective as I had begun to offer my old company mementos to the highest bidders on eBay.

There were also a few surprises from individuals that I had known personally.  One man had worked in my department.  I remembered him as a loyal and hard-working individual who had quietly served the company well.  When the office closed in 2005, he was handily picked up by a claims division of our company which was located about thirty miles away.  However, in the ensuing years, even that operation has announced its imminent closure.  Significantly older now, he was apparently not offered a new position, but was probably still too young for a buyout.  The resulting “farewell” post on his last day was heart-breaking in that it reflected a deep sense of abandonment and despair at having been tossed aside.  The tone was in such stark contrast to that of the positive and eager young man that I remembered I felt a deep sense of concern for him in spite of the time and distance that separated us.  I was, therefore, very relieved to notice a change in Facebook status for him a few weeks later in which he noted a new job with one of the old company’s competitors.

Modern-day archaeologists spend their time unearthing physical artifacts:  the remnants of buildings, tools, household items, and in rare case, ancient writings.  These objects help them to reconstruct and reveal the secrets of previously “lost” civilizations.  It is unclear whether a type of “digital excavation” will be possible should our society eventually succumb, whether to the ravages of climate change or a nuclear blast courtesy of North Korea.  Therefore, rather than allow social media to continue dividing us, perhaps the best we can hope for is to appreciate these rare personal revelations for the gifts that they are, not in a voyeuristic sense, but rather as a way to remind each other of our shared humanity in the face of an increasingly impersonal world.