Earlier this week I was behind on a deadline. I hadn’t quite missed it, but I had drawn uncomfortably close to it. I texted a friend, a former work colleague, not from Stitch Fix but from my non-profit work. She’s been working on her own creative projects, so I invited her to a write-in at Panera.
She came. We didn’t exactly get any work done, but we had some spirited conversation as we usually do (which comes as no surprise as the topic of the article was ‘sex and the single mom.’) It was Friday afternoon, and suddenly my friend turns to me and says, “I know it’s last minute but…”
And she invited me to an art gallery event in Long Island. The next day. Well, it was a GLVWG Saturday so I had some meetings to run, but I said if we could work it out around the GLVWG schedule, I didn’t have anything else on my formal schedule. Then, she added “we’ll have to stay overnight” and something about drinks and a beach.
That sounded delightful and I haven’t been away from home or out on a Saturday night in a while– We all had that crazy 2023 that kept us guessing.
Now, it’s Sunday morning and I’m in South Jamesport, N.Y., writing to a beachfront view.
We went first to a boutique, North Fork Apothecary, in Cutchogue, N.Y., for an opening of Glen Hansen‘s Full Moon Rising, a collection of photo-realistic paintings of crescent moons. The paintings were probably about 12 x 12 and so textured and real that they looked like the actual moon when photographed.
And as would befit the atmosphere of such a show, on a full moon night, the shop was decorated with candles and hosting tarot card readings.
From there we met up with Glen at a fundraiser and installation, “Baroque O Vision Redux,” he worked on with East End Arts at the Glen Hansen Studio in Southold. In its simplest terms, the installation featured 3-D printed “copper” pipe woven throughout the room. In reality, the reaching arms of the sculpture featured a variety of textures, sizes and outcroppings.
A conversation with the artist Bill Albertini revealed that the initial concept spurred from his drawings, and later additions and modifications came after he saw the space in the studio.
We had some wine and snacks and traveled with the piece, following the piping throughout the room and marveling at the different connections and ends.
And they had some delicious yellow peppers and cookies, and bread that looked hearty and welcoming, but most of the cheese had disappeared by our arrival. But what lingered behind was a mysterious jam that neither of us could quite place what it might be.
So, I tried it. It turned out to be a fruity jam with a zappy kick of ginger at the end.
“Sassy,” I said. “I don’t know what it is but it is sassy.”
If you want to experience more of the videos, I linked a couple of youtube shorts here and here.
From there we went to The Watershed where my friend, Glen and his friends would turn up after the event. We started with dinner, where my friend and I both had pasta. After dinner, we moved out to the bar where Jay Shepard entertained the crowd with covers, and witticisms, and incredible guitar playing. I’m listening to his Spotify as I type this. I’m told the Watershed has amazing pineapple margaritas which they make by soaking their pineapples in vodka. The glass vat of pineapple cores and vodka sits at the end of the bar.
I quickly discovered Jay was not eating the olives on his beverages so I started stealing them once the empty glasses returned to the bar.
After our dancing, cocktails and music, my friend and I returned to the room, where we read tarot cards in our own full moon celebration. According to the cards, we are indeed women on a journey.
When Grey’s Anatomy was new, I did the old school, pre-streaming thing and bought a few seasons on DVD, probably on deep sale at FYE.
I never really liked them— only liked some of the characters. One of the ones I liked least — Meredith Grey. And the medicine portrayed didn’t interest me either.
But for some reason I started watching Grey’s on Netflix and have re-watched the first two seasons.
And for some unknown reason— I decided to go straight from season 2 to season 19. I’m about to 15 minutes in, and I already know I still hate Meredith Grey. I mean, that’s harsh, but they are imaginary people so I can say that right?
But I got to see Dr. Webber, who seems completely ancient now. And Dr. Bailey looks gorgeous but doesn’t appear to be working to the hospital.
And there’s a new Dr. Shepherd but I have no clue who she is.
But this poor Dr. Griffith with her amazing hair seems to have a lot of potential.
So it will an interesting adventure to see where these characters have gone in the last 17 years.
Last week I got a message from fine artist and art book maker Maryann Riker of Justarip Press. She and I have known each other at least 20 years through my newspaper days in Phillpsburg, N.J. I heard about her art books and asked if I could do a piece of them for the paper and before long, I was in her home watching her unfold handmade books over her dryer and kitchen table.
Maryann was also a friend and creative partner of Nancy Scott. I originally met Nancy through the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group. Maryann and Nancy are the art-and-words combo similar to what Gayle and I have.
Maryann invited me, The Teenager and photographer Joan Zachary to meet for a celebratory end-of-year-drink at Bosergeist Brewing at the Easton Silk Mill. (Where we also included Nancy by pranking her. The Teenager can send announcements through Nan’s Alexa. So we sat in BoserGeist, Maryann stealing my beer, making Nan’s Alexa tell her things.)
Maryann thanked me for including her in the Parisian Phoenix crew. Joan and Maryann got to discuss artistic achievements through the year. Everyone celebrated the Teenager’s successful first semester at Lafayette College (A in photography, which made the artists happy, and B+ in her other classes).
We ate appetizers. We tasted craft beers. We laughed. Thank you, all three of you, for such a delightful mix of energies.
Maryann and I drank the last of the vicious peppermint beer that they make every holiday season. Then, I ordered a flight where we enjoyed the chocolate stout, the cranberry cheesecake beer (that had a burst of sweetness reminiscent of a smartie candy), the prickly pear and the “walking in the winter wonderland” which when cold did not appropriately show its flavors, but as it warmed tasted more and more like gingerbread.
The Teenager proposed celebrating Yule this year, and including Christmas as part of that. As we are beyond broke, and participating in Amazon’s Vine Review program we both had no money for or need of stuff.
The season has been full of ups and downs, some lovely moments with the Teen and some interesting kerfuffles because we’re spending a lot of time in the house. It’s been two years since my father died and I can’t help but feel rejected by my family.
But I’m surrounded by good friends and my community at Parisian Phoenix, and I have made strong connections in 2023, even with the loss of my job at Stitch Fix leading to some relationships dissolving there as well.
But over the last few days, inspired by my dear blind friend Nancy Scott, I did a six or seven part series on TikTok exploring the planners and journals I have accumulated with the best intentions for 2024. And today I finished that series and combined them all on YouTube.
If any of you watch all 40-minutes of this, you’re insane.
Please, as always, consider buying books or simply reviewing books by your favorite “small” author. Keep us going– emotionally or financially.
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:
I want to keep this one short. I spent a couple hours on a Substack newsletter for Parisian Phoenix (read that here), handled some business, watched some TV, did some job applications and folded some wash. I’m starting a new project for an important client tomorrow and attending some classes on websites, Google and SEO practices.
Yesterday, I attended the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group meeting, then ran up to Stroudsburg to support William Prystauk’s horror novel release for The Hanging Girl. From there, the teenager and I stopped at Wawa for a snack before heading to The End: A Bookstore to meet up with Ralph and Joe of Echo City Capers fame.
Speaking of fame, Joe made an appearance on Channel 69 Weekend Edition of the Morning News.
But then, upon leaving The End, the Teenager hopped over a tiny pile of stones to avoid going the long way to the parking lot. I followed. And my good/stronger ankle went out on me, causing me to slip in my slightly healed walking boots, and somehow I bounced off Joe’s parked car, narrowly avoided a concrete parker marking with rebar sticking out of it and smashed my right hand, nose, glasses and face into the macadam.
It’s been four months and a day since my last fall.
My gait was perfect. My blood pressure has been trending higher, but remains in the neighborhood of 120/70 vs the former 110/65. My heartrate and EKG are fine. I just fell. Tired from overbooking, stress from losing my job, awkwardness because of the rain, or all of it who knows. Life with cerebral palsy. Heading home with a fat lip and a bloody nose.
I did take a chunk out of my expensive glasses. The metal frame of the bridge cut up my nose. And the hand I f*cked up when I dove down the steps March 1 at Stitch Fix, it’s set back a ways on recovery. It’s torn up again.
But sometimes you have to remind yourself to be grateful.
Speaking of grateful, if you follow my Instagram you may have seen this fabulous hot lunch of Maruchen Teriyaki noodles, peas, Lightlife tempeh and fresh spinach I made for The Teenager and I at a cost of about $2.50 per serving. And 30+ grams of protein.
I am also grateful that Giant has a store brand version of Bush’s Vegetarian Baked Beans as the family size can of Bush’s was on sale for $3.09 and the generic was $1.69. The Teenager says the generic tasted exactly the same. I can’t give it that much of a rave review, but I can report it was a successful substitution. What disappointed me though was the honey beans I bought on clearance at Grocery Outlet.
I feel a little guilty right now because The Teenager has a sore throat and what appears to be the start of an ear infection. It’s a common occurrence for her and nothing says “back-to-school” like an ear infection on a 95-degree September day.
I had a good day, and despite my ongoing sensation of exhaustion (none of us who work at the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy sleep well these days) I am experiencing an emotion I think I recognize as joy. It is bittersweet as I had to say goodbye to two work friends today, and many more will go tomorrow.
Speaking of the warehouse closure, I’m starting to feel unsure whether we are closing a business or a preschool. Today’s free pile included lanyards, insulated branded lunch bags, gift bags, inflatable guitars, bingo cards, and raffle tickets. Yesterday I brought home stickers, pipe cleaners, serving trays made out of cardboard-ish, egg carton material and I almost had a collapsible storage cubby but a random elderly colleague came over, took it out of my hand and said, “excuse me, that’s mine.” I handed it over because 1. I’m not acting petty over free things and 2. I was taken aback (but not surprised) by the gall.
My neighbor whose nickname I can’t recall had the other cubby and she offered hers to me, but I declined. She picked hers up fair and square. And really, I don’t need more random stuff.
I’m going to bounce around in this blog post, but I’ll try to use subtitles.
Sharing my words
So I went to my neurologist/physiatrist today and I gave her one of the Parisian Phoenix books, Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money. We had talked about it the last time I saw her and she told me to email her the info because she wanted to buy it. No one has ordered that book since the last time I saw her, therefore I thought it was safe to bring her a copy.
She started flipping through it right away. She teasingly chastised me for distracting her, and I told her that next time I would save books for the end of the visit. She also mentioned she had a patient whose wife was considering approaching a breeder about a mobility dog prospect for her husband, and she (my doctor) wanted to know the name of the program where I am on the wait list.
My doctor believed it would be too much expense and too much of an undertaking for this couple to buy a dog and have it trained as a service dog, especially since they don’t even seem confident that a dog is right for them. My doctor suggested looking for a program, and I offered to speak with them if they so desired.
When I left the office, I discovered organizers of the Artful Dash on the Stirner Arts Trail here in Easton reached out via Instagram to ask if they could use photos from my blog to promote this year’s 5K. I, of course, gave them permission.
Medical stuff
Today was my last specialist appointment before my benefits change. My team and I seem to be on the same page, and they appreciate the fact that I pay attention to my body and try to implement lifestyle habits to counteract any health issues.
My gynecologist, primary care physician and my neurologist/physiatrist all agree that some of my current stiffness and bladder issues may stem from a combination of stress and change in exercise habits. Now that my increased sodium intake seems to have eliminated my orthostatic hypotension and decreased my fall risk, I am working on losing weight (ten more pounds off by Christmas I hope) and paying more attention to my urination issues. My current management of my potential incontinence symptoms includes using a toilet every time I see one, and honestly, unless I start having recurrent issues in public I’m not concerned. It could be, my neurologist said, that my theory that my days of bad spasticity means my bladder might be having spasms, too.
And the random tingling limbs so far is not a cause for concern. But, as always, I have a list of symptoms to watch for.
Random Caramel Apple Iced Coffee
We received Wawa gift cards at work last week and I stopped yesterday and got a caramel apple iced coffee. Now, I don’t normally like Wawa’s iced coffee. It’s too weak for me. But the cold brew was a $1 more and I’m cheap.
It was delicious, though I do wish the coffee were stronger and they never put enough ice in there so it’s always warm by then end. Because I don’t normally drink sugary coffee I was buzzed by the time I got to the gynecologist.
I miss my more carefree days– which didn’t seem carefree, until now, when I have several appointments after each 8-hour workday in the warehouse, health issues to sort, a job hunt and debt to pay. Life is never simple or easy for most of us, but 2023 has, for me, felt like eternal optimism and hope while being bludgeoned. I get my proverbial sh*t together, and something outside of my control decides to parachute into my life.
When Stitch Fix announced closing the Bizzy Hizzy, they scheduled all sorts of guests and workshops for us as displaced employees. My separation date is September 15, so I have four more weeks, or two more paychecks, depending how you look at it. One of the workshops Stitch Fix hosted, and paid us to attend, was a visit from the state “Rapid Response” team to explain how unemployment and career services from the state work. They handed us a booklet that told us how to survive our layoff. (Surviving a Layoff: Your Guide to a Soft Landing and a Smooth Re-entry by Harry Dahlstrom. Mr. Dahlstrom, I’m sure you’re a very intelligent and likable person, but your advice is written for middle class Americans with two cars and their own house.)
“Remember that emergency fund with three-months pay stashed away…” Oh, Mr. Dahlstrom. Do you not have a child going to college this fall? Or medical debt? Or a used car that needs constant repairs? Or a teenager whose car insurance costs $500/month because of an accident? That’s just me. Others might have a disabled or unemployed spouse, student loans, bad credit that led to predatory loans for everyday items… or maybe they just recently got this job and had been using their credit cards to survive.
“Reduce your thermostat to 68 degrees.” Oh, Mr. Dahlstrom, mine has been at 64 for two decades.
“Trim your entertainment.” I don’t have cable. I don’t have any streaming services (though the Teenager has Spotify, which she pays for, and she also bought HBO Max and made for the year upfront.) I don’t even have home internet, relying on my phone’s hotspot and public connections. I think the last time I went to a movie was two years ago.
“Prepare a weekly menu” and “put back 10 percent of the things in your [grocery] basket.” Oh, Mr. Dahlstrom. I spend $250 on groceries for myself each month, that does not include the Teenager as she buys her own groceries. And I do get coffee or a donut out, which adds up to about $25 a month, which I consider reasonable as, as you mention, I search for discounts.
Other advice includes: “collect old debts,” “turn unwanted things into cash,” “change your lifestyle,” and “bring in the paying customers” using a talent or skill. Because my half-a-double home that I pay about $900/month for is full of useful items? I haven’t even had a vacation in about five years. And my talent? It brings in about $150/month on a good month.
“Unload the family jewels.” Mr. Dahlstrom, I’m so frugal I wouldn’t even let my husband buy me a diamond for my engagement ring. When we got married, we used Irish claddaghs so all I had to do was switch it to the other hand. I don’t own a single piece of jewelry or any item worth anything. My car is a 2015, my computer is a mid-range model, even my Brooks Brothers suit is 15 years old at this point.
But this is what’s wrong with our country. As a society, we assume everyone “poor” or experiencing financial trouble or unemployment is in that situation because they are irresponsible, stupid or did something wrong. And sometimes that poverty or situational bad luck is due to society’s expectations.
For example, starting with my generation (the GenXers) we insisted that our kids go to college and saddled them with loans to do it. Then, we flooded the market with bachelor’s degrees, which rendered them meaningless, and started pumping up the value of master’s degrees. For those of us associated with the arts or wishing to pursue an academic trajectory, a Ph.D. is now required and some perfectly talented individuals with MFAs are now trapped in a life of eternal adjunct status.
And the poor Millennials also fell victim to this higher education fiasco except the cost has skyrocketed and these poor kids are starting their lives with student loan payments that rival my mortgage and they can’t land a job with a living wage so they work in warehouses with the same people who skipped the education in the first place.
Now, add to that the way the medical system works. In my opinion, and this is just my opinion, more people than ever need some sort of medical support in their life. Whether it be disability, illness, mental health struggles or maintenance medication, it seems like more people than ever spend a ridiculous amount of their income on healthcare.
I have been extremely fortunate that my mathematical brain allowed me to calculate costs and I determined that the free to me high deductible health plan, when you included the employer contribution to my health savings account and a $50 contribution from me to that same HSA each paycheck, paid for most of my medical costs this year (except for my mental health therapist, who for some reason, the medical insurance company likes to pretend doesn’t exist. They just won’t communicate with him or pay him).
Now, before I continue on this rant, I don’t understand why healthcare in this country is primarily connected to employers and employment. Why is it an employer’s responsibility to provide access to healthcare? Eliminating this ridiculous practice might be a good first step to getting healthcare under control. If you meet certain criteria, you can qualify for government-sponsored insurance, which also dictates the level of care you receive, and the open marketplace for healthcare is expensive.
I just don’t understand why everyone isn’t pushed to the open marketplace OR why everyone can’t qualify for government insurance. If everyone went to the open marketplace and insurance companies had to compete for individuals instead of corporations perhaps the access to care would change. In other words– even a company like Stitch Fix– has thousands of employees. If insurance company had to court those individuals and families, they would have to work a lot harder to court them versus convincing one corporation to allow them to insure a large group of individuals.
I missed a month of wages after my hospitalization, which due to the one week waiting period, even with my employer-sponsored short term disability insurance, only provided three weeks of wages at less than 67% of my normal wage, and on top of that the company administering those payments misplaced my paperwork which meant I had to repeating submit paperwork and did not get the last week of those wages until one full month after I returned to work. And my doctor had to submit three sets of paperwork. Which, technically, costs $25 a form for the doctor to submit.
And because I have a congenital and permanent mobility disability, I always need physical therapy. But physical therapy sessions cost hundreds of dollars and insurance companies limit access to them. So I hired a personal trainer and pay him $25 a session (which bless him, he has now reduced his rate to contribute toward my fund to pay for my service dog which is another $5,000) and I bet Mr. Dahlstrom would say I should eliminate that from my budget as an extraneous expense.
But Mr. Dahlstrom, I imagine, does not live with a disability and has probably never experience what it’s like to have a leg that just suddenly stops working or a hip that feels like it’s waving to people from my butt. And since my muscles and my brain literally cannot communicate, I have to physically show them what to do so that movement is reduced to muscle memory and does not have to include the brain.
In closing, I’m going to end this long and winding blog post with a celebration that also highlights everything wrong with America. My friend Southern Candy from Stitch Fix turned 65 yesterday and she asked to go to Shady Maple Smorgasbord. That place was SO BIG, I think my whole d*mn town could have dined together. They had so much food and so many cooking stations I think we could have fed a village from a developing nation for a week.
The staff was amazing. The food was quite good. The gift shop was enormous. And in general, it looked like people were only taking what they could eat. But we all ate too much. I had three dinners and two desserts and spend several hours thinking I might vomit. The cajun catfish and the carrot souffle were my favorite. And I really wanted to punch an old man in the face because as I was reaching for the last piece of coconut custard pie, he snatched it away from me.
And the reality of how much food, how many steaks, how many excess calories we were all consuming filled me with such guilt and shame. Our culture, and you can disagree with me, is so centered on gluttony and selfishness. So while I was happy to spend time with my friend, and take a road trip with her, and laugh with her– I have to ask: how can such a place exist? I’m sure the intent, because Shady Maple started decades ago, was to provide a place where people could dine and have a wide variety of choice and not have to chose, or for families to dine together while pleasing difficult eaters. But this was insane.
This week presented many challenges. Monday I was hurting, probably from too much computer work during my 10-hour weekend editing sessions each day. I survived Monday, but barely, only to learn that Tuesday I would be moved to a different station in the Stitch Fix warehouse.
Change is never easy– but in this particular instance, as a person with a documented disability and doctor-derived medical accommodations, I struggle in my normal environment to perform at the same level as an ordinary employee. And that’s my job, to do the work, with a reasonable amount of help.
The main consideration used by management to determine assignments on the warehouse floor is table height. Is the work surface the appropriate height to match the ergonomic needs of the employee? In my case, my performance also relies on which side of the line I am on and who is “on support” that day. I work on “the B side” which does not mean I am not a radio song. It means the conveyance system that moves the fixes to the next stage of the process is on my left side.
I rely on my left side for balance. Therefore, to minimize potential issues with my hip and ensure my balance and stability, I need to work on the side where I turn to the left to put my boxes on the line.
My original table assignment for Tuesday was on the right, or the A side.
Requesting a B-assignment got me moved from line two to line four, which meant I would no longer have my regular support team. (That’s the role of the people who deliver work and supplies to those of us who fold the clothes.) I have been told that it’s my job to remind these folks of my medical needs. And they don’t always like that. So it makes me uncomfortable. Because in my view, it’s not my job to tell someone else how to do their job.
And to make matters more fun, it’s up to the individual to decide how to provide my accommodations. The deviations are small, but the impacts are major. The cart typically arrives with eight fixes on four shelves, with five to eight boxes lying horizontally on top of the cart. Most people move the boxes (I often take them) and pile the work from the bottom of the cart on the top. Some people even put the fixes from the two bottom shelves and place them in boxes on top.
I don’t even ask that pack slips be placed with them. I have myself trained to flip them to match the new order. Which confuses everyone but me.
This particular day, my support person, who I believe is a delight, so this is no reflection of who she is as a person, decided she would place the clothes around the boxes without moving the boxes at all. She tucked them all over the boxes. Which meant if I moved the cart to my station or reached for the boxes, the clothes fell on the floor. How does this help me? Keep in mind– I go through three carts an hour.
I eventually complained to a supervisor and said something like this:
“I know it’s too late now, as we’re closing, but there really should be a system in place where Stitch Fix defines what the accommodation is for the doctor’s orders, because it really shouldn’t rely on individuals who don’t understand the disability. And maybe it’s a violation of privacy, but those of use who need the extra attention should be arranged together so support automatically knows if we’re in that section, we have an accommodation and it would also cut down on people requesting accommodations when they haven’t done the paperwork.”
The supervisor said that was a great idea and lamented that I hadn’t mentioned it earlier. I didn’t mention it because it’s basic logic.
Somehow, I survive, and I make numbers. My body is so twisted I can feel that if I move wrong I’m going to pull a muscle in my lower back. But it’s okay because I have the chiropractor on Wednesday.
And then I get the table from hell on Wednesday. It’s the right height, right side, good support people. But it’s a front-of-the-line table, so I have to keep pushing the boxes toward the end. The fan keeps blowing my pack slips, which means I need to tuck them under my craft paper roll instead of on my laptop keyboard. But I keep forgetting, which means every cart I repeat chasing a paper, and tucking the others under my craft paper roll. My scanner keeps disconnecting from my computer. And if I need to go get a large box, which is common now as we are transitioning into winter clothes, I have to walk to the back of the line to get it.
These things add ten to thirty seconds to every fix. That’s 40 minutes over the course of the day. And I finished at 91% which is bad enough to get me a warning. And so I’m stressing, which tenses my muscles, and since my neurological condition already creates issues with my muscles not relaxing just makes everything worse.
And midday, the leaders got out an inflatable beach ball so every one could bounce it around to each other. That upset me more because I don’t have time to have fun. How dare they think I might be able to survive this and have fun?
Nicole Jensen of Back in Line Chiropractic aligned my lower body and stretched out my legs and I left her able to stand up straight and move my legs without stabbing pain.
This is where the difficult mental part of disability takes over. It’s so much easier to give in, to rest, to eat ice cream and watch TV and be done. But I knew my body needed to stretch and move in order to correct whatever issues had been caused by my misalignment and muscle tightness.
My brain and my muscles don’t have good conversations– so it seems like I can to manually perform a motion for a while to teach my body how to do it, even if that is reminding it how feet go or how a gait is supposed to work. That’s why I go to the gym. Not just so someone forces me to exercise, but also so someone can make sure I am using body parts correctly.
But I have to tell you, I dreaded going to the gym. I had been in pain all day. I wanted to take a hot shower and go to bed.
Andrew texted. He had a situation at work. Maybe the universe thought I needed a break. When Nicole works on me after such bad body pain, I’m often achy the next day.
Then Thursday went fine. Great even. But the pain crept back Friday, not nearly as bad but it took me most of my day to get my metrics at work to solid ground. And Friday night I went to the gym, and despite how I was feeling, I had fun and did well with some heavy weights.
I made some salmon and trendy smashed potatoes with vegan tzaziki sauce for dinner and the Teenager loved it. I fleshed out the writer’s proof for the erotica book. And went to bed feeling like I had been successful.
This morning I got up, discovered I had low blood pressure after I took my beta blocker (oops) and had a light breakfast– coffee with PB2 and cream, PowderVitamin Electrolyte Powder Plus in strawberry cucumber and these breakfast biscuits from Olyra. I thought they’d resemble a Reese’s peanut butter cup or a Tastykake Kandykake.
They were hard, dry and the peanut butter cream was minuscule and didn’t even moisten the cookie. Terrible. And I love their yogurt breakfast biscuits so how could this taste like someone managed to shape chocolate-flavored protein powder into a cookie?
Anyway, the moral of the story is: sometimes what you can achieve one day is much less than what you achieved on a different day.
I’m running out of steam– there are so many things to do and to talk about that I just can’t get to them all. And that’s okay.
I have commitments. I was elected president of the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group. I have a child enrolling at Lafayette College in a month. I met with a young editor yesterday after my day job at Stitch Fix and absorbed her energy and hopefully helped her on her journey.
The decorations and the Braille are ready for tomorrow’s Disability Pride Lehigh Valley event.
And I manged to NOT put my underwear on backwards as I did on Wednesday.
Sometimes the little wins mean a lot.
In general my blood pressure and orthostatic hypotension symptoms have improved with the increased salt in my diet. If I get a good eight hours of sleep I feel decent. I have to ask if that’s due to the salt, the rest, or my frequent missing of my calorie goals (the other night I went on an eating binge and ate 500 calories of almonds. Who does that?). It also could be my increased stress levels as I’m losing my job in seven weeks.
Seven weeks.
The first medical bills from my March hospital stay has arrived, which like everything else, makes me wonder what’s to follow. I’ve started applying for full and part-time positions–but I really want to get a part-time position in something that will give me knowledge toward building my own business or to string together writing and editing clients.
But I have no savings to pull this off.
*I have a Substack and an underpromoted, underutilized Patreon if anyone wants to support Parisian Phoenix Publishing in those ways.
(And reviewing my own creator dashboard, I set up Patreon a year ago and didn’t do anything with it. Put that on the list, in addition to updating the web site in general.)
My recent experiences as a Stitch Fix client
I have waited more than a decade to launch into my client experience with Stitch Fix. If you’ve read any of my novels, you can probably imagine why. (More about my novels here.)
I started getting fixes around my birthday, which was in May. I had given my employee discount to a friend for a little more than a year, as I did not have the income for new clothes. If you are a regular here, you’ll know that the pandemic and my recent life and lack of discipline have led to a 30ish pound weight gain on my small frame, so that factored into my decision to postpone my fixes. Why buy new clothes if I’m not healthy and back to normal?
The Teenager told me around the Back-to-School season last year that she felt like she didn’t know her own style, because she didn’t get to buy her own clothes. So, I transferred my discount to her. And an employee discount can only be transferred every six months.
This week my fourth fix came. I can’t believe it’s four as I can only remember three, but these days I’m lucky if I can spell my own name.
So I asked for my fourth fix if my stylist could send suggestions for events related to titles launching at Parisian Phoenix Kink. Edgy, kinky, sexy. I even listed brands and ordered everything vegan leather I could find on Freestyle. Like pants. And a really amazing dress. The pants worked out, but the first dress was too small, and the second I did not order in petite so it was too long and for $250 I lost patience and wiggle room on my American Express to find “just right.” I did however find a dress, that although not vegan leather, fit the aesthetic and allowed room for my expanded-since-weight-gain bust size.
With all of this information of what I’d purchased, what I’d returned and why and so many items I had “saved for later,” the AI algorithm that Katrina Lake has bragged about in every podcast appearance I have heard should be able to show my stylist what I want. It should show me what I want.
And the same week Stitch Fix announced it was closing our Pennsylvania warehouse, Gwyneth Paltrow released an episode of her Goop podcast featuring Katrina, with whom she appears to be friends and retreat buddies, bragging about the algorithm and telling the same stories of Stitch Fix’s origins I’ve heard for three years.
Shipping times across the Stitch Fix network have increased, when the company eliminated its second shift (originally implemented for pandemic social distancing, splitting the warehouse staff in half) and asked us to convert to one of two 4-day, 10-hour cycles, the logic was that operating seven days a week (especially in our region where we can ship to anywhere in the continental US pretty much within 24-48 hours) would allow Freestyle orders to land at clients’ homes quickly.
And in my experience as client and employee, it did. My daughter was using my discount at that time and there was one incident when I ordered earrings on Friday night, coincidentally on Sunday morning around 7 a.m. on packed them, and I received them Tuesday morning.
I wrote a blog post (here). And I also made an unboxing video.
Now it often takes two weeks to receive an item. And we’re not even closed yet!
So, my fix preview comes. And I am very disappointed. I can see why the algorithm has selected certain items based on my past Fix purchases, but it’s like it has completely ignored the pile of things I have ordered from Freestyle since my last Fix.
Are you all still with me? Okay. So, the box arrives and I’m soooooo excited to see what kind of party outfit my stylist picked out. I know there’s a pink dress but everything else is a surprise. I ask The Teenager if she wants to see me open it.
She says, “Sure.”
And she starts the video. I open the material inside, and I see the “first fix” card that goes out to new clients. I am not a new client. I look at the Style Card and the name is not mine, the stylist is not mine and the fix is not mine. Now, despite the fact that I work for Stitch Fix and I fold and prepare 130+ of these fixes a day… despite the fact that this box came from our warehouse… and despite the fact that I also have performed the role of the person who prints, folds and drops the little envelope in the box…
In this moment, I am a client. It’s like all knowledge I have of of the process falls out of my head. (And it’s all on video you can watch it.)
“This is not my fix,” I say, despite the fact that I have already shown the camera a bundle with a pink dress in the middle.
I had glanced at the style card and saw that Becca, the client, had received athletic clothes and sneakers and I clearly had heels in that box.
I shoved the entire fix in the return envelope without even opening it. I was so angry and disappointed.
In my disoriented anger, I did not know that there was only a brief moment before check out that I could see the style card and note from my stylist that accompanied my fix. And I zoomed right by it as I started to realize that they were my clothes. And I recalled seeing some notes from my stylist about how the system wasn’t giving her the types of clothes I wanted so she tried to build some outfits based on what I had. But I had clicked past the note without fully reading it.
And now it’s gone.
Remember, I have waited more than a decade for these fixes. I have no clothes that fit because I gained weight during the pandemic. I am losing my job and I need clothes for interviews, business and launch parties.
I email customer support and ask for a copy of my stylecard.
At 4 a.m. the next morning, as I get dressed for work, I realize: I can peel the sticker off the box, research it and probably find my own damn style card. But we change in-house warehouse management systems so often I can’t remember which app does what I need it to do. I ask a lead– because now I realize one of the people who prints the style card is the one who screwed up my whole experience. She refreshes my memory.
I look up my package and realize my cat-loving friend Tom delivered my shoes to the picker, and that I know the name of the picker who ran around the warehouse on my behalf. The person who QC’ed my package– that’s the same job I normally do– was probably in the line next to mine. And then I see it. The person who handled my package last. It’s someone who is very good at her job and even gave me some tips once we moved to regular day shift.
This person means well, but punctuates her sentences with things like, “it’s not your fault. You second shift people weren’t trained properly.” I didn’t tell her she screwed up my box, and my animosity about the whole experience faded when I saw her name at the end of the line.
And my brain thought to itself, “it figures.”
By then, customer support had emailed me a PDF of my style card. Which I could have printed at work. But they offered to mail me a copy. So I thought, “Why not?”
I thanked the customer support person who took the time to explain to me how the warehouse works (because they always blame the warehouse, no one wants to hear that the beloved algorithm is broken). And I told her, “Yes, please mail me a copy. That would be lovely.”
I haven’t received it yet, but I do keep them. But that’s a blog entry for after my separation date.
I decide that maybe I’ll order one more fix, since I paid for the style pass so I won’t lose any money. And the preview comes… and guys… this one nails it.
It’s due to arrive at the end of the week, so here’s hoping this story has a happy ending.
Angel Ackerman 