Earlier this week, I had an interview with the owner of a doggie daycare/boarding facility about a potential job. I’m striking out with some of my professional interviews, and perhaps they can sense that I really don’t want to return to full-time work. Ideally. I’d like to recruit more editorial clients and focus on Parisian Phoenix Publishing. A part-time job would give me the chance to do that, and provide some stability.
The dog thing happened by accident. I saw it on Indeed and figured “Why the Hell Not?” I’m not the dog-whisperer like The Teenager, but dogs usually like me. And between mothering and petsitting and fostering I have cared for kittens, cats, dogs, rats, parakeets, parrots (this includes Nala and a Senegal), rabbits, various lizards, hermit crabs, snakes, chickens and horses.
And I’ve medicated many of those creatures.
During the original interview, the cleanliness of the place impressed me. It didn’t smell like dog, and it didn’t smell like bleach or harsh chemicals. The facility wasn’t noisy. And there were many varieties of kennels and rooms and play areas for the dogs.
The owner invited me back for a second “working” interview today, so I got to learn more about the ins-and-outs and I got to help with private play for several of the dogs. I caught one larger dog (about the same size and build as our own F. Bean Barker) that got away from the caretaker because he didn’t want to stay in his room. I noticed some expired vaccines on dogs who applied to come in for an evaluation. I made friends with a miniature poodle with red hair that usually didn’t like anybody. I hosed off artificial turf.
In other news, I also followed up on a lead I learned about last night about an office position, part-time, in downtown Bethlehem.
I am trying to capitalize on skills other than food service, as I’d like my resume to follow my eclectic and diverse involvements so keeping it professional or doing more in animal care/welfare seems right for this phase.
My trainer Andrew announced that he thought I could bench 100 lbs by Christmas. This was after I benched 80 lbs for three solid reps. It was a new personal record for me and another reinforcement that I have regained strength in 2023, despite the health issues.
I told him that after the Christmas season challenges we already have listed on the public goal board at the gym, we need to add the next goals for my birthday in late May and another set for my 50th birthday in 2025.
But, even while my strength increases, my stress eating continues. Now, I aim for 1300-1500 calories a day so that even if I “binge” I don’t do too much damage. Nowadays, I often hit 2000 calories only on a bad eating day.
Today for breakfast I did not go for my usual bagel with cream cheese, avocado or even more decadent brie. I had one serving of Cabot cottage cheese (it’s very decadent and smooth), a golden kiwi, about a cup of raspberries, and a cold matcha latte, my style, made with sweetened matcha powder, unflavored whey powder and unsweetened, organic coconut milk that was delightfully hearty and robust. The breakfast came to 400 calories– including the cup of coffee with half and half I had four hours earlier (and come to think of it, I never finished it. Not only did it have lots of satisfying fat to tide me, but it also had 27 grams of protein.
I have a networking event I plan to attend later in the day, at a brewery, so I had lunch at 2 p.m. and decided to stay with the high protein low cal effort. I used a whole wheat tortilla to hold almost a cup of chopped romaine lettuce and a serving of Penn Valley homestyle chicken salad. I added a small glass of diet Ocean Spray ruby red grapefruit juice and a dessert– Chobani zero sugar Greek yogurt. That meal was a little more than 400 calories and also 27 grams of protein, but I did not finish the yogurt.
Tomorrow I have a working interview, my second, for a job where I would need black pants. So, yesterday Southern Candy, The Teenager and I went to the thrift store. My four pairs of pants came to about $8, and three of them fit.
So, Stitch Fix was the first subscription-based, personalized clothing service. The company launched in 2010, as the lore has it on Valentine’s Day, and every year on Valentine’s Day, employees in our warehouse received the latest edition of the annual Stitch Fix t-shirt. I started with the company in their Pennsylvania warehouse, neighboring a small city named Bethlehem.
The facility itself was about a 1/4-mile long, and the smallest in the Stitch Fix network when I joined the team in November 2020. Our warehouse was nicknamed “The Bizzy.” During my time with the company, we had a network of six warehouses– ours was the second ever opened: The Bizzy (Bethlehem, Pa.), Breezy (Atlanta, Ga.), Dizzy (Dallas, Tx.), Hoozy (Indianapolis, Ind.), Phizzy (Phoenix, Az.), and Rocky (Salt Lake City, Ut.) And that doesn’t include operations in the United Kingdom.
The Rocky closed first. Bizzy is closing now. Dizzy is closing in a few more months. And Stitch Fix is pulling out of the UK.
Working for Stitch Fix
I loved working for Stitch Fix. They paid well considering the work we did. I was hired as part of an experimental shift during the pandemic, a second shift from 3:30 p.m. to midnight, to reduce the amount of people in the building at one time. We were called “The Midnight Society,” and we had badass sweatshirts. After midnight society, we moved to ten-hour cohorts to run the building seven days a week– in line with the Freestyle business, allowing clients to order their own items and have them delivered promptly. We live in a universe where those packages show up on our doorstep within a day or two. Eventually, that ended, and we were all folded into traditional day shift. I made three shift changes in two years, some of my peers made four changes in three.
The work was easy. The corporate culture was great. But all the change was hard. Many of us clung together like trauma victims, connected by the bonds of shared experience. And for me– if you know me personally or follow this blog you know this already– Stitch Fix allowed me to recover from past work experiences that shipped away at my self-esteem, explore my health issues and be honest about how my congenital disability impacted my body and my work life, and participate in a work environment where, except for some of that day shift crew that never quite accepted us, made me feel valued for my contribution and for who I am as a person in addition to my role as a cog in a very big wheel.
Even amidst closing our facility, Stitch Fix offered a lot of opportunity and support to displaced employees that they were not required to provide.
The Stitch Fix employee’s friend’s client experience
I clearly remembering sitting on my sunporch reading a Vogue when I learned that a woman named Katrina Lake had launched a clothing subscription service. I wished I could log on and subscribe to this then monthly– and only monthly– box service because I love fashion. I was watching Elsa Klensch on CNN back in the 1990s with awe. I adored Jean-Paul Gaultier and bought his then brand new perfume (it wasn’t Classique yet, it was the only one then) and a bottle of the oh-so-trendy Chanel vamp nail polish in Paris in 1995. (And the perfume spilled all over my suitcase on the flight home, leaving a wildly strong aroma and a very broken-hearted me.)
My novel universe, the Fashion and Fiends series of horror books, blends supernatural and paranormal monsters/events with the high fashion universe. It’s just a mix of art, function, commercialism and international influence that fascinates me. Here’s an excerpt from one of my academic papers on the topic, also from 2010.
So, mindlessly folding clothes in the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy while listening to podcasts and building my publishing company, Parisian Phoenix Publishing, suited me just fine. I got to see the clothes, touch them, build the boxes clients would open, and watch the machine whirl around me.
Stitch Fix offers its employees a 40% discount. We don’t get any additional discounts, like the 25% buy all, and we still have to pay styling fees. But when I started at the company, I was a single mom getting on my feet after four months of unemployment and I had gained 30 pounds that I hoped to lose again.
I gave my discount to a friend. Stitch Fix allows employees to designate their discount to anyone of their choosing, but this election can only change once every six months. My friend and I opened her boxes together– sometimes in person, sometimes via Zoom. The first couple boxes were fun, but soon we both started seeing repetitions. The algorithm that Katrina Lake raves about seemed to suggest very similar pieces to those in previous boxes whether or not my friend had kept previous items. And certain notes to the stylist the algorithm would ignore, like despite “no sleeveless” or “no horizontal stripes,” those items would come in the next box.
After a year, I had to admit those excess pounds might not be going anywhere soon. I was ready to get myself some clothes. We ordered my friend’s last box with my discount. And we opened it. I have embedded the video below, and note I am wearing a top and a pair of Judy Blue jeans that I purchased from the employee store at the warehouse.
The Stitch Fix employee’s daughter’s client experience
The Teenager, who had just turned 18, comes to me and announces that she has no idea what her own style is because people have purchased all of her clothes for her thus far in her life. As part of her Christmas present, I agree to pay for six months of Stitch Fix so she can work with a stylist.
Now, let me just go ahead and ruin the ending– this was a failure. I even looked at her client file and saw a note that the algorithm would not allow her stylist access to anything my daughter wanted. I know my daughter did not interact with the quizzes, nor did she bookmark items as favorites. Instead, she uploaded photos. And I don’t think the AI can understand that.
The first fix was moderately successful, but the later ones seemed to repeat, just like my friend’s did. I actually had more luck going into Freestyle and selecting items for her. I hoped that would make it better. It didn’t. If you watch the video of The Teenager and her first fix, she’s wearing a Hiatus t-shirt from Stitch Fix that I bought for her at the employee store in the warehouse.
Finally, MY experience as a Stitch Fix client and an employee
I feel justified in saying that the algorithm does not do as strong as a job as Katrina Lake would like us to believe. I received access to my employee discount in April 2023, and in June I received word that my warehouse would close and was led to believe I would lose my job in October when the lease to the Bizzy expired.
I had interacted with the quizzes for more than a year. I clicked on photos for my inspiration board. I ordered items from Freestyle and selected items as favorites for later. In the beginning, the hits and misses I assumed were part of the process. I signed up for the annual style pass ($50) so I no longer had to worry about styling fees if I kept nothing.
And then it started– despite purchasing every item I could find that met my criteria, my stylist could find nothing that suited my needs. Despite seeing multiple of items at my station every day, my stylist reports to me that none of the warehouses have anything like that. Despite saying I don’t wear sleeveless shirts for business or that I don’t have the shoulders for open blazers or cardigans, I get sleeveless shirts and open cardigans.
My discount expires in a few weeks, and all I want is to score a couple nice interview outfits. Yet, my stylist can’t seem to find access to anything that’s not a sweater or gaudy. I set up a fix in a panic Friday when I realized I didn’t have a white blouse that fit. I have a pair of Liverpool plaid pants, a pair of Violets & Roses plaid pants, a patterned Liverpool pencil skirt and a bright pink Skies are Blue blazer– all from Stitch Fix and on record in the system as “kept” purchases and not one shirt.
I wore a sleeveless mid-century style sheath with princess seams to my job interview, Calvin Klein from Stitch Fix. But I didn’t have a blazer.
I received a Preview of my fix today. I asked for blouses to match the clothes they know I have. I received one white Calvin Klein blouse which I told them to send, but I have a cream Calvin Klein blouse which is too big and they are sending the same size. They offered two ugly old lady sweaters, that I declined. A plain black shirt that was way too boring for the price and probably a Henley. Two pairs of pants and the black Liverpool pencil skirt (and I can hear the note from my stylist: “since I couldn’t find blouses that match your skirt, I sent a new skirt), which I also declined.
I then hit up Freestyle and didn’t find much either. But a package should be on the way. I don’t have the money, but shirts are necessary in the workplace. My fix will arrive October 16.
Cautions about Stitch Fix:
I have worked returns. My friends work returns. Gross things get returned and Stitch Fix allows it. We have received pants with blood stains, clothes covered with animal hair, dildos and underwear. I found a pair of socks in a cardigan pocket. As a consumer you should wash any garment you buy before you wear it. Stitch Fix takes stuff right out of the return envelope and puts it right back on the warehouse floor.
Ants, bedbugs, spiders. Because Stitch Fix accepts returns directly from the consumer, we accept their filth and critters, too. Each warehouse in the Stitch Fix network is monitored for pests, including monthly inspections from a bedbug sniffing dogs. And a month before I lost my job, my neighbor at the table six feet to my right found a bed bug on a pair of jeans she was folding for a client.
The algorithm sucks. Every Stitch Fix warehouse is supposed to carry the same merchandise, yet I never received anything close to what I had hoped to get from my Fixes. When I complained that my stylist could never “find” what I wanted, I received a note that Stitch Fix often runs out of items in certain sizes. Ummm… I’m an average woman looking for a basic white office blouse.
The shipping times have dramatically increased since the announced closure of half the warehouses. When I used to receive items or fixes within a day or two, it now takes about a week and often more. Returns take a month or more.
Exchanges are slow and costly. Often they don’t have a piece if a different size when you want it. If they do, they charge you a second time and refund your money for the returned item about a month later. So if you order a shirt off Freestyle, pay $75, return it because it’s too small and ask for another, they charge you another $75 immediately. So, you order the first shirt, pay $75, wait about a week for the shirt to come, order a second, return the first, pay another $75, wait another week. Let’s say the second shirt is fine. You have $150 on your credit card. And you have to wait another 2-3 weeks to receive a refund of the other $75. That’s about five weeks debacle for one shirt.
Benefits of Stitch Fix:
I LOVE being able to open my Stitch Fix account and see my kept clothes. It reminds me what I have and also suggests how I can wear my items when I just don’t know what to wear. Today, the weather has turned cold. I had planned to wear my hoodie to breakfast but then Stitch Fix reminded me I have a very cute cropped brown sweater with billowy sleeves. And ironically, I think this might work with my Violets & Roses plaid pants for an interview outfit.
Prices are reasonable if you know what the brands usually go for and watch the Freestyle sales.
If clothes are damaged, they will replace them.
They have a wide variety of clothes at their fingertips.
They can usually deliver clothes for any occasion quickly, if you order a fix. Freestyle is slow as molasses.
They take ANYTHING back.
These are all of my videos regarding our Stitch Fix experiences:
My secret hope for this weekend was to run to Washington DC and visit my traveling companion M. He has to work this weekend, so I ended up chatting with him briefly on the phone and accompanying The Teenager to Quest for bloodwork.
Like me, The Teenager has difficult veins, but I’ve had good luck with one particular Quest office I book for all my blood draw needs.
Apparently in addition to being tiny, The Teenager’s veins like to hide. They did manage to extract the goods, but it took a heat pack, some patience and some trial and error.
Since the bloodwork required fasting, we stopped at Sheetz where The Teen loaded up at carbohydrates so I swung by Dunkin for an egg wrap to balance her choices. She had a client meeting at 10 and at 9:45 the employees at Dunkin couldn’t find our order.
I told the Teen to leave me and I’d read a book in the lobby until her return. So here I am.
I’m reading The Last Train to Key West by Chanel Cleeton that I ordered through Bookshop.org. The book is the next selection for the book club at Mary Meuser Memorial Library where I serve as a trustee.
In the lobby with me, there sits three men of “Middle Eastern” descent, probably Lebanese or Syrian, all jabbering away in Arabic, one of whom The Teenager and I recently met in our local CVS.
Shortly after I arrived, the woman with two toddlers whom I saw at Quest came in. She treated her kids to donuts, probably as a bribe after sitting in their collapsible wagon at Quest.
I hate the nerves of getting dressed, trying not to spill coffee on myself, picking shoes that I won’t trip over, worrying about traffic or getting lost or sticking my foot in my mouth.
But on the good ones…
I leave feeling empowered, confident and excited. Regardless of whether the employer decides to hire you or not, a good job interview has the person in the chair thinking about their own skills, their history, their past. And if it’s a good company, and a good interview, a person can leave understanding more about their own value and with a clearer idea of self-worth.
Even if the company feels wrong– if you leave an interview with a better concept of what you want that is valuable. Of you see red flags and think “oh no, not working there,” that’s a sign you’re getting more sure-footed in your decision-making.
But sometimes you leave thinking you just had a good conversation with some new people, and you heard statements come out of your mouth that surprised you with their succinctness and relevance.
Those are the days you have to think, “Wow. Maybe I belong here.”
Those are the days it’s also easy to get discouraged when they say no, but it’s important to remember that culture and fit plays a very important role in choosing new employees and that there’s always a lot of people looking for jobs. So it might not be something you did.
Keep going, my friends, keep going.
And in case you are interested, I very much felt like I belonged when I went to the interview today. No doubt in my mind that I could do the job, do well at it, and grow as the opportunities came. We’ll see what happens. I wore a Calvin Klein sheath, sleeveless, very pink, princess seams, high neck, and black cowboy boots. Bold choice perhaps.
Tonight is my 30th High School Reunion, scheduled in the casual and amazing environment of Richmond Brewing. Our classmates own the establishment and have agreed to let us assemble and celebrate without a lot of formal to-do.
But I don’t know if I’m going to go.
I was on the reunion committee. I love the food and the beer at Richmond Brewing. It should be fun.
But I’m stressed and if I’m honest, I’m scared. And I think this is probably the first time I really wished my service dog was already here. Because having that dog would relieve some of the physical barriers to attending, which might help my emotional issues.
I’m already showered and dressed and ready to mingle. But I’m struggling with my own mobility today– which if you aren’t a regular reader I have diplegic spastic cerebral palsy which means I have issues controlling my legs. Last weekend I took a medium fall. I didn’t do any permanent damage, though I did damage my expensive glasses, probably delayed healing of my sprained right pinky, and got myself some nasty bruises and bumps on the head.
But today I fell again. This is is going to sound ridiculous (my trainer Andrew can probably vouch for me here, I think he’s seen it happen) but I can’t pick up my feet today. Primarily my right one. It’s dragging. It got caught in the cracks between the sidewalk and down I went. No damage, my Apple Watch didn’t even alert.
Which is probably a good thing as I’ve been enrolled in the Women’s Heart Health and Mobility Study at Brigham & Women’s Hospital in Massachusetts and when I fall and my watch registers it, they call to check on me. I talked with them for a half hour on Monday.
I fell on the way to the gym, and my workout went fine, although at the same time, I struggled with some muscle control.
I went over to the Christ United Methodist Church for their craft and vendor fair where Joe Swarctz, our fearless illustrator and the creator of Echo City Capers, was selling the latest in children’s books. I didn’t fall, but every bump on the sidewalk or imperfection in the floor challenged my balance.
The Teenager has to work tonight, so I’ll be on my own for the reunion tonight. And I’m scared. It’s about 30 minutes up there, and with my recent layoff gas money is tight, plus I won’t be able to have a beer. And it would have been my father’s 75th birthday today, if he were still with us, so that has me in a horrible, dejected mood.
If I had my service dog, I would feel safer. I would at least feel more secure about my ability to navigate walking. And I would know that I would have another living thing there that could help me if something did happen. I know that all of my classmates at the Reunion would be helpful, but there’s a certain comfort from those who already know what you need and how to help. Because it’s a dreadful feeling when you have an accident in public, and people want to help and no one quite knows what to do or they do too much or the wrong thing.
I’m not sure what to do, but I know the choice is stressing me out.
But if my balance is already significantly compromised, I don’t know if traipsing around an old barn is a good idea.
I’ve been spending quite a bit of my free time working on a freelance project for a savvy dentist who writes business books in his free time. While he’s a dentist, his books combine his profession and his work in emotional intelligence and leadership with his business acumen. It’s fairly fascinating.
My life right now is not nearly as fascinating. But it is interesting to me, and it’s been good and perhaps even healing for my soul.
I mentioned a few days ago that I had hoped to develop a regular posting schedule for both my personal and business blogs and to expand my Substack newsletter. And I realized that today is Thursday, and while my particular Thursday (how dare it be so rainy and cold again today? We had such a warm and lovely yesterday) might be dull to the average person… it’s been a good day.
Yesterday I took my friend’s sister to the doctor. She’s nervous to return to her normal bus usage because of some recent knee issues. I had a nice time, and it was nice to get out of the house and drive around on a sunny warm day.
Sundried tomato spinach artichoke pasta
In the evening, I made an amazing sun-dried tomato, spinach-artichoke pasta with a few ingredients from Grocery Outlet and some leftover fresh spinach that had finally started to wither. (To read more about that grocery trip, click here.)
The artichokes, sundried tomatoes and carrots I used in the sauce (and except for the artichokes I didn’t use all) cost me $4.50. The shredded cheese I used as a topper was $1.99. And the spinach I was nursing for the last week had cost $3, but I have already gotten my money out of it. I had the noodles in the cupboard, but I suppose if you included the pasta, the whole meal might have cost $12 to serve 4, with leftovers of most of the ingredients for other meals. (And I had a can of whole black olives in the cupboard I had picked up at the Dollar Tree.
My trick for that delicious sauce was to take several of the artichokes, a clove or so of garlic, and one of the sun dried tomatoes (hand torn) into a skillet with some of the oil from the artichoke jar. I left that simmer on low while I tossed the rest of the jar of artichokes, some carrots, all the remaining spinach, and about half the jar of sundried tomatoes (and as much oil as I could spare from that jar without leaving the tomatoes exposed) into my Ninja food processor. I added a couple olives, then chopped some other olives and added them to the skillet.
Mixed the whole mess up with the pasta, added cheese to taste and delivered to the table.
As I put the leftovers away and cleaned the kitchen, I noticed the fridge was crusty so I wiped up some of those shelves (and then I went as far as to organize items so The Teenager might find them– hummus by carrots, yogurt with milk and pudding for easy snacking, cheese, beverages, bread).
Lending a hand
Yesterday, as I left my friend’s sister’s house, I literally drove my Southern Candy’s house. So I stopped and gave her a hug before heading home to the work I had from the dentist. Today, I visited another Stitch Fix colleague who had some trouble with her unemployment paperwork. She felt terrible to bothering me– but I told her– “I’m glad you felt comfortable calling, because I hope that means we all really will stay in touch. Too many lay offs mean the end of relationships.”
Believe it or not, we laughed a lot while she fought with the government web sites. She even gave me a small Wawa gift card to thank me. She said she figured I wouldn’t take gas money. I laughed and said, “These days, with us all unemployed, I’m not so sure.”
But it is nice to be reminded that we can all work together, and sometimes it’s nice to have people who you can ask for help.
When I got home, I had received a Fix. Now, I figured I would keep nothing from it because of my situation, but my StylePass is active so it costs me nothing to order and return it.
When I started this week, I whipped out a variety of paper planners: my monthly Silk & Sonder and my daily planner I received through the Amazon Vine program (their product reviewing service). My Silk & Sonder contains my appointments and my weekly plans, whereas I fill out the daily planner to give myself realistic expectations of what a person can achieve in a day.
I had hoped– in addition to the job hunt, freelance projects, getting caught up on phone calls (schedule the furnace maintenance, research cheaper car insurance) and cleaning my house– to embark on a strict schedule of blog posting: Monday, Wednesday and Friday for the business (Parisian Phoenix Publishing) and Tuesday, Thursday, Friday for my personal blog. Then on Sunday, I would send out my Substack.
I went to a variety of job interviews, made $165 in freelance work, and even had a professional forgive my outstanding bill in exchange for a couple hours of my time giving editorial and marketing feedback. Today I received my last paycheck and I hope I have planned everything as well as I can for upcoming lean times.
But this morning, I had the opportunity to visit with middle grade author Jess Rinker at the ever-so-lovely Plants and Coffee Easton where we talked about our experiences in the publishing industry and she revealed some of her future plans.
And I treated myself to The Popper, a jalapeno popper themed bagel with chive cream cheese, cheddar, jalapenos and potato chips.
When The Teenager got home from her college classes and work, we visited Joe Swarctz, the creative mind and illustrator behind Echo City Capers. He will be appearing on Channel 69 WFMZ Morning News Weekend Edition tomorrow and he and partner Ralph Greco Jr. will be participating in The End: A Bookstore‘s local author night in the evening. I had to deliver the copies of the Christmas book that had arrived at my house for the event.
Then, the Teenager and I headed to Grocery Outlet where we each had a $5 off a $25 purchase coupon only good for this weekend. I told her– the trick is to spend NO MORE than $26 so that the coupon works, and you only spend about $20. She was up to about $35 in minutes and even with me taking some of “her” groceries I only had $15. So I took some of hers and bought some crab cakes. In the end, she spent $23.58 and saved $24.50 and I spent $26.43 and saved $40.02.
What did we buy?
The Teenager:
Dental Cat Treats, $6.99
Dental Dog Treats, $12.99
A Caramel Apple, $1.99
Pepperoni, $2.49
Antiperspirant, $2.99
Me:
Gourmet French Caramel Chocolate Cookies, picked by The Teen, $0.97
Four pineapple muffins, picked by The Teen, $3.50 (she insisted they were $3)
A slim jim with cheese stick, picked by The Teen, $0.99
Snickers popcorn, $1.50
Rueditas Chili Lime Pretzels, $0.97
Waffle Crisp Cereal, picked by The Teen, $1.99
Ground Turkey, $2.99
Spicy Vegetarian Chicken Nuggets, $1.99
4 Frozen Crab Cakes, $4.99
Minute Maid Watermelon Cooler, $1.49
Half Gallon of 2% Milk, $2.08
Teriyaki Tempeh, 2 containers, 2 servings each, $1.99 each
Old Bay Sausage, $3.99
After that, we went to The Dollar Tree. The Teenager spent about $15. She needed batteries and wanted to buy someone stickers.
The Teenager did not get a receipt, so based on what I saw in the kitchen and these photos:
Batteries
Stickers
Chef Boyardee Ravioli
Canned spaghetti
Dog food
2 varieties of Asian Instant Noodles (which will go great with peas and the teriyaki tempeh!)
white bread
Jalapeno rice
jalapeno corn muffins
honey corn muffins
The Teenager did not have lunch and Little Dog’s Mom always loves her Diet Cokes from McDonald’s so I opened my app. I used $5 from my Apple Cash to get three large soft drinks and a free six piece Chicken McNuggets, and Little Dog’s Mom paid me back when I delivered her soda.
This week was hard. I thought it would be different.
So, last week 100 people got laid off. There was fanfare. We left at 9:30 a.m. with pay for eight hours. Supervisors, process leads and managers lined the walkways and wished everyone (even those returning to work on Monday) goodbye by name. There was hugging and frolicking, crying and laughing.
This week, because they laid off 100 people last week, we had to work every second of the 40-hour work week unless we took voluntary, unpaid time off Friday. And how much time depended on your department, whereas the week before everyone in the building left at the same time.
So a lot of people from support left after 9:30 a.m., returns left at 10:30, inbound left at 11:30, and QC left at 1:30. And leads and supervisors just disappeared throughout the day. One manager wished me well and said goodbye at 7 a.m. Which was rich, considering what happened at 6:30 a.m. But I will get to that.
There were only 15 of us laid off yesterday. I know numerically why 15 people are significant, but when 100 were let go the week before and then 15 each week for several weeks following, it really (in my mind) makes a statement of how impersonal and how meaningless each person is in the eyes of the company. Why not make it another large group? The psychology of realizing you are one of 15 people that the company picked to leave on this Friday, it’s awkward.
Because you’re singled out of a large group.
Now, imagine you’re me. I know I speak up when no one else will, and I know I have challenged the thought process of my leaders. I try to frame everything with logic, to explain why I’m challenging what I’m challenging, but in the end, some people don’t don’t like to reach beyond their comfort zone. And often they just don’t know what to do to fix it, or they feel helpless or they feel attacked.
Yesterday I reported to my assigned station, which has been changed over the course of the week because with the reduction in staffing we have new work patterns. And I told one process lead that I didn’t care where they put me for the week, as it’s only the last week and I don’t feel pressured to challenge my physical capabilities to meet metrics. Most people had stopped meeting their numbers on purpose.
So, on Friday morning, I reported to my table– which for the record, is a table I hated, but no one asked and I just sucked it up and did my job– and I noticed… No one else came near me.
It was my last day. And I think I might have been the only person in my little unit leaving that day (that didn’t take the day off) and now… I realize… there is no one else on either side of my line. I have no shipper, there’s no work for others. They moved everyone else and just left me there. This means all of my work will just sit on the empty line until someone moves it.
Probably because they know I have issues physically and struggle with table changes and more importantly, I have a big mouth.
I feel completely on display. I feel singled out. And at this time, other people are looking at me wondering why I am standing in the middle of a closed line. In the middle of a wide open space. Like there’s a big open field and I’m just standing there. By myself. On my very last day with the company.
And I’m thinking to myself, “See– even on your last day, you’re not part of this group. No one cares about you. You’ve seen how they treat their friends. You are an outsider and you always will be.”
My heart rate is 150/beats per minute. I’m starting to cry. I email my supervisor (although I know what needs to be done, and I will do it, but I want their to be a record, even if fleeting and electronic, a written record of the things that have happened to be because I have a disability).
I walk back to a process lead, and I said, while trying not to hyperventilate or scream or cry, “I know you probably think you’re being nice, and helpful, by not making me move, but do you have any idea how it feels to be isolated and on display on my last day here? I don’t care if it’s high or low, on the left or on the right, please find me a new table. Any table. With the group.”
And I told them– because now a group had assembled– that I would be back after I went to the restroom to collect myself.
I was told to pick any table available, and I said I would grab the first one I saw. And I did.
And that’s where I was when the boss walked up less than an hour later to say goodbye and said she hoped I felt better about everything about talking with everyone throughout the week. And I said no, I felt worse and I just wanted this day to be over. And that I didn’t blame any people, but that as we all know, every company has room for improvement and this is an area where changes should be made and I had hoped to advocate for that change. But I failed.
Or perhaps more accurately, I ran out of time.
This is why more people don’t speak up and advocate for themselves, because it’s hard. And it drains you more than you think. I only did it, at first, because my employers made changes that made me fear I would lose my job if I didn’t.
But I lost my job anyway.
Let’s return to the story about departure. Most people VTOed (accepted the voluntary time off without paid) except for those of us who knew this was our last paycheck and we needed every dime. And when we left– there were no supervisors, no leads, no managers. There was no fanfare. They just let us walk out the door.
Because the critical mass had left the week before.
And we were just a handful of random people that didn’t matter.
Three more days and Mercury comes out of retrograde.
Three more days and my tenure at the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy comes to an end.
I had a job interview yesterday that led to a second interview Monday.
And yesterday was the two year anniversary of Parisian Phoenix Publishing, and I found out yesterday that Parisian Phoenix did not make it to the finalist round of the Innovative Voices program of the Independent Book Publisher’s Association.
What do all these things– well, everything but the whole Mercury retrograde thing– have in common?
Me. Still talking about disability.
I’m struggling. Change happens. I get that. But I just feel like everything I’m trying to do becomes a pile of various obstacles, so am I on the wrong path? All summer I felt like maybe I was finally headed toward new beginnings and small successes, but now I have my doubts.
And even things that should be success feel like delayed failure.
I’ve gone over the finalist list for the IBPA Innovative Voices program twice now, and I asked The Teenager to take a look. And she confirmed what I thought. Every finalist is a person of color/BIPOC or representing the gay/LGTBQIA+ community. Not a single disability voice among them. And then the teenager said it, “Well, Mom, color and sexuality are how most places do their DEI.”
It has taken me 40 years to accept and embrace my disability, and now that I have not only accepted it but worked to be a voice of advocacy, I open myself up to a whole new level of hurt.
Which brings me to work today.
Monday my table got moved. Today it moved again. But surprise, surprise, I liked today’s table (even though the air was stale and hot). And then… it happened. Because I was on a different line, I had different support people. And the support person on my line did a very sloppy job of presenting my work. Meanwhile, on the other line, a different support person presented someone else with similar medical accommodations a cart that was tidy.
It might sound petty. But because the company allows each individual to work such situations out with their peers, this leads me to feel like the person who brought me my cart resents having to help me.
And so I went to my supervisor. And I reminded him that all I wanted was to be treated the same. This other person has a temporary (and technically voluntary) disability that has lasted about six weeks. I have been dealing with this for more than a year. I have been disabled and will be disabled my whole life. The person with the temporary disability gets fawned over by her peers– including one peer who literally marches up and down the aisle telling all of us to help her.
So today, she gets the work from the bottom of her cart placed into boxes with pack slips placed neatly on top, and I get my work thrown on top of the boxes which are placed on their side on the top of the cart in a great big heap.
And once again, I ask my supervisor to help me find out if Stitch Fix has a policy in place to promote consistency between disability and medical accommodations. He promises me a chat later.
I go back to my table. A lead brings my next cart, and she doesn’t address my accommodations at all.
When the outbound manager walks by, I mention this to her.
And in the afternoon, I sit down with my supervisor and a manager and we discuss again:
how my accommodations have been inconsistent and I don’t receive communication about how or if they will change.
how other people with what appears to be similar accommodations receive “better” or “more” attention than I do.
how too many people are given the power to make decisions about how their peers will be treated
how disability is an issue for any workforce, whether a person has a disability, ages into a disability or has a temporary disability.
how Stitch Fix’s approach to inclusion for disability (and their ‘communities’ to support such efforts) focus on mental health and neurodivergence
how Stitch Fix has made it difficult for me as a person with a permanent disability, especially since I was moved from the job I was hired to do and they changed how our job performance was measured.
Tomorrow I am sitting down with the health and safety manager for our facility, as he will be moving to the Phizzy in Phoenix. Whether you call it favoritism or discrimination, my experiences have been frustrating. The company maintains that medical accommodations are extremely personal, cannot be policed by leadership, and rely on relationships between peers which assume people will do the right thing.
So, what if they don’t?
I have been working with the same people for more than a year. They know. And I feel like this work-it-out-amongst-yourselves approach has led to people claiming medical accommodations when they don’t actually have then.
