Tag stitch fix

Rain, again? Personal update

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

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.

Here’s a video of the unboxing:

Fifteen people who don’t matter & an advocacy story with an unhappy ending

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

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.

87% and placated

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Tomorrow is my last day at the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy. Tomorrow is my last day, as I told my cat Fog, that my alarm will go off at 4 a.m.

Today, I am tired. My blood pressure seems to have come down, but my ears are ringing and my chest is tight. My workout last night worked out the kinks, and while I am stiff, very stiff, I don’t have any pain and my right leg which was giving me trouble yesterday has improved.

Speaking of my right leg (and hip), I managed to get off the floor from my knees leading with my right leg and not putting my hand on the ground not once but THREE times at the gym yesterday.

But what I really wanted to right about was the fact that yesterday at work was worse than the day before. I was back to table 33, which was the table I didn’t like on Monday. The line itself on 3B seems to catch in that area, so I spend much of the day fixing other people’s boxes as they clog the line. The support post for the line is immediately at my left, which means to put my box on the line, I need to lean forward or back. And every time I need a box, I have to wiggle it around the line.

On top of that, we’ve had a couple weeks of short days, so my body has forgotten how to work eight hours. And I don’t mean that as some sort of funny statement. My body relies on routine, because my lower body muscles can’t relax (that’s what spastic really means) and my brain can’t properly communicate with them (that’s the cerebral part of cerebral palsy; the palsy is the paralysis). So this is like starting a brand new job physically (which reminds me of all the terrifying parts of starting a new job).

On top of that, my meeting with the one person staying with the company that was supposed to talk about disability advocacy within Stitch Fix and how accommodations need to be consistent and fair… Well, while I adore and respect the person I met with… I got the feeling it was about placating me and not making change. The meeting was scheduled for 15 minutes (and is not an amount of time for meaningful dialogue). He listened and performed all the good listening skills. But he didn’t write anything down. He did not suggest a call for action. He did not even say what he could or couldn’t do.

He just basically said I was right and if I needed anything to let him know.

And then his phone buzzed. He got distracted. And he kept looking at his watch. Then he apologized and explained he had another meeting and had to go.

So my requests to write a letter to corporate have been ignored. My requests to discuss this with our human resource department have been ignored.

Needless to day, I went back to my station discouraged and a tad devalued. But that’s how it goes when you’re just a cog in the wheel and in this case, the wheel has been removed from the car and the car is trying to run on three wheels.

(Yes, I know my grammar is bad today with some truly admirable run-on sentences but it’s not even 5 a.m. and I’m exhausted, stressed and emotional.)

My Stitch Fix neighbor has been moved to table 68, so I don’t have her to offer any confirmation that this stuff is happening. And I keep stationed near all the pregnant women who get to request different help based on how they are feeling each day, while I have to advocate for my approved accommodations at least once a day.

I literally left the floor yesterday and went to the break room early when the same person who style carded my fix wrong (if you want to see the video of me tossing the whole fix in the return envelope unwrapped I’ll link it) took my empty cart and replaced it with another, which IS NOT HER JOB, and did not adapt the cart to match my accommodations. She then, seconds after, went to her pregnant friend behind me, emptied the bottom four shelves of her cart which IS NOT HER JOB and is not the accommodation I’ve seen done for anyone before, and then proceeded to help her fold her fixes.

Now, remember Sassy or Spicy or whatever her nickname was? She returned to the medical field, but she was part of our second shift crew. There was a day shift girl struggling after working hard all day. So Sassy helped her. She folded some clothes and gave them to her to scan and box. Sassy was chastised and told IT WAS A GROUNDS FOR TERMINATION. But, apparently, if you are friends and pregnant the rules are different.

Look– I have no issue with these people on a personal level, friends should do nice things for friends. BUT at work, in a large group setting, these small acts of friendship or kindness when not offered to EVERYONE around you regardless of how well you know them, especially if performed by a person in a position of authority, are favoritism. And allowing peers to treat peers differently based on personal relationships is also favoritism.

And favoritism can also be referred to as discrimination, and discrimination against certain groups, like say… the disabled… well, that’s illegal. On the federal level.

I really hoped if I were polite, and filled out all the paperwork, and kept asking, I could get them to listen. I can’t believe at my age I can be that naive.

I did 87% yesterday. And I busted my ass to do it. I almost asked to use my leave, but then I remembered numbers no longer count and it’s my final days of any income. So I suffered. And left in a lot of pain.

But my process lead made me laugh which lowered my heart rate which had been elevated all day. And then Gong Obsessed threatened to take a certain returns binner and his poorly performing peers into a classroom to tutor them in how the alphabet and numbers work, because “it might help them in their next job.”

And I got a craft paper dispenser to bring home, which they gave craft paper away a few weeks ago so I’ve been waiting.

More unintended advocacy and nursing a bruised soul

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Three more days.

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.

The $50 grocery challenge (and the first round of ‘separation’ from the Bizzy Hizzy)

Angel Ackerman 2 Comments

So, once again, I find myself uncertain of what nicknames I have given my friends at the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy. My neighbor took off today, and Southern Candy (today was her last day) went to breakfast with her department when they released us at 9:30 a.m. Yes, we worked three hours today. I brought my friend, we’ll call her Gong-Obsessed, home and headed to Grocery Outlet and The Dollar Tree to buy what Groceries I could with the $55 cash I had in my wallet.

The men’s QC department is moving to our end of the warehouse on Monday and they are taking line 1, so I will be leaving my table. I’ve been at this table, 18, for about nine months now.

Farewell, 18.

After babbling about book production to Gong-Obsessed, I headed to Grocery Outlet where I spent too much of my budget on the Teenager. I am such a mom. She has an ear infection and drippy sinuses so I bought some things to make her life more pleasant.

I totally forgot to look for my Cabot cottage cheese– which was the whole reason I went to Grocery Outlet. Cottage cheese provides a low calorie, high protein, sodium rich food which is convenient for me.

One of my strategies for economic hard times is to use cash only for grocery shopping. Pay your bills and whatever is left (after gas) is for groceries. Since I got paid today, and only have one more pay check and no future full-time work lined up, I limited myself to my cash in my wallet because whatever is in the bank is now for bills and bills only.

Once I get to the store, I buy what’s cheap and versatile. I don’t necessarily meal plan as much as organize themes. Rice can be a base carb for just about anything. That same rice with a pile of beans and a small can of chili can now stretch to feed a family. English muffins can be the base for a sandwich, or a breakfast food, or with some creativity a hamburger bun or a pizza crust. Cheese can be a quick source of protein and calcium, and while peas usually aren’t anyone’s favorite veggie, they also add a touch of protein to meals, and can be tossed into rice dishes, casseroles, cheesy or alfredo pasta, or hot/cold salads.

What I did get at Grocery Outlet:

  • Honey Flavored Navy Beans, 0.99
  • Kosher Dill Pickle Spears, 1.49
  • Six Whole-Wheat English Muffins, 1.99
  • Almond Thins Sriracha Crackers, 0.99
  • Ortega Mojo Chile Lime Sauce, 1.49 (when you’re low on food, a cheap bottle of sauce can elevate a ‘struggle meal’ into something pleasurable. I’m getting ready for lean times here.)
  • Turkey Chili, two cans, 0.47 each
  • Zesta Saltines, 0.77 (can make soup more filling, serve as breadcrumbs if need be, and it’s been ages since I had butter-on-a-saltine as a snack, and with a sick kid at home, something is just soothing about saltines.)
  • Cabot Bac’n and Cheese Dog Biscuits, 2.50 (the dog couldn’t even focus on her sit-stay when I opened these.)
  • Cocoa Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cereal, 1.99 (The teenager loves Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Cocoa Pebbles– I had to see if this would be ‘the best of both worlds.’)
  • Bananas, five, .52/lb, .94
  • Fresh blackberries (pint), 1.99
  • ‘Nano’ Cucumbers (quart), .99
  • frozen avocado chunks, 5.99 (This was the most expensive item I bought, but it’s less expensive and less waste than buying fresh avocados. I put some in a bowl, maybe 3/4 to 1 cup, thaw them in the fridge and stir them into a paste for dip, for toast, or to flavor dishes. It disappears usually within 48 hours and a bag of frozen avocado has 3-4 batches in it.)
  • Boca Chicken Patty, 1.99 (Even if you’re not a vegetarian or even if you prefer not to use processed food, fifty cents a serving and it’s a protein you can toss in the freezer and add to just about any meal in a minute.)
  • Jimmy Dean Spinach Frittata Plant-Based Egg Sandwiches, 2.99. (I originally bought these for The Teenager, because she’s going through some medication AND routine changes AND financial changes so eating has been a struggle. For 75 cents a serving, she has an easy breakfast. But now that I see they are plant-based, I might take some to work for break next week.)
  • frozen peas, 1.19
  • Birds Eye ranch-flavored cauliflower, .99 (nutritionally not the strongest choice, but add some rice and some white beans and that ranch flavor could sass up a meal)
  • Hall’s cherry flavored cough drops, .50 AND
  • Nasal decongestant spray, 1.49 (both to help get the Teenager over the hump of her ear infection and sinus congestion)
  • Goya Dulce de Leche rice pudding, four servings, 0.99 (because the Teenager doesn’t feel well and she loves rice pudding)
  • Pillsbury buttermilk biscuits in a can, two cans, .50 each (like the English muffins these can go with any meal at any time of day and be reshaped into other dough if one finds themself in a pinch)
  • Sabra classic hummus, family size, .97
  • two percent milk, half gallon, 2.08
  • shredded sharp cheddar cheese, 8 ounces, 1.99
  • Taco Bell branded “fire” shredded cheese, 7 ounces, 1.99
  • Minute Maid Watermelon beverage, half gallon, 1.49

Total at Grocery Outlet: $42.68

Technically, this gave me $12 for the Dollar Tree. Now, with all that food, why did I have to go to the Dollar Tree? Because my comfort food, especially when I am sick, is Spaghettios, and apparently I have passed that along to my daughter, because she requested Spaghettios.

Since the Dollar Tree now costs $1.25 per item and sometimes their groceries ring up as taxable, and I don’t feel like arguing with cashiers today, I capped myself at 8 items. I had enough for nine, but wanted to be safe.

I purchased:

  • Spaghettios, two cans, one with Franks Red Hot for me and one with Chicken Meatballs for the Teenager
  • A pretty nice sized bag of white long grain rice
  • A can of black olives, whole
  • Schweppes ginger ale, 1 liter, because I have a child with a sore throat at home and she ripped it out of my hands as soon as she saw it.
  • Generic diet soda, 3 liters
  • Sonic freeze pops, again, for the sick child
  • Gnocchi, because the gnocchi from the dollar store is filling and has a decent amount of protein

Total: $10.15

I still have $2 in my wallet.

Mission accomplished.

Random Thursday nonsense: a trip to the neurologist, strange items brought home from a warehouse, the start of goodbye… and caramel apple coffee.

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

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.

7 more days

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I wake up at 4 a.m. It’s ridiculously early, but it allows me a bit of writing and thinking time before delving into my day. And the reality is here that I only have to do it seven more times. Some of my friends are leaving Stitch Fix this week, one is done tomorrow. We are all human so some people leaving tomorrow I won’t miss, and many I’ll never talk to again.

Every job loss experience is different– and no matter how much warning you have or how prepared you think you are, it takes a toll.

People will offer advice, or enthusiastically recommend avenues of employment that won’t work. Some people begin to critique your finances, which isn’t any of their business, as they gently suggest maybe you shouldn’t have taken your daughter to the movies last week. (We saw Strays and the Barbie movie, because both have some significant statements on society’s behavior while maintaining humor and also, well, being a certain level of amusingly dumb.)

My daughter started college at Lafayette, and I wanted to celebrate this milestone with her, but we both have more commitments than time and sense. So to sit in the dark together and laugh seemed a good use of our time and money.

My doctor sent me a note that he’s concerned about my elevated cholesterol, total 183, “bad” cholesterol 107, which has me a tad perplexed because it’s been at this level for three years and we all know my diet needs work and has had some recent challenges, especially when I’ve used fast food to quickly raise my sodium levels.

I reviewed my food diary from this summer and there were only two instances all summer where my daily cholesterol was more than 200 mg/day, when the daily recommendation is under 300 mg/day. I think as I focus more on returning to a better weight, as I work to improve my mobility, this situation should improve. Probably more than half my diet is plant-based.

Speaking of health and mobility, Susquehanna Service Dogs sent me my paperwork for my six month check in. Everyone on the wait list must check in every six months.

Today I go to the gynecologist for my annual. Tomorrow I have my final check-in with my neurologist/phsyiatrist before losing my insurance. (We’re going to discuss my increased stiffness and recent reliance on my chiropractor and my urinary issues.) And Friday I visit my chiropractor.

I also received my first shipment of products through Amazon Vine. Amazon contacted me since I tend to leave reviews on the products I buy and offered to make me an official product tester. They asked me to test a purse organizer, which seems a strange product to offer, but The Teenager has put the item to work. We also received a pair of pet nail trimmers, which were very nice, and a bird toy which the cats loved but Nala is not so sure yet.

A day with the firecracker (some fun at the warehouse, and a trip to the doctor)

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Work

I came into work today feeling my oats for some reason. I don’t even know why, but I quickly got sassy and playful. I started my day with strong numbers– but immediately I noticed one of my peers running support kept coming into my valley to give her friend work, when she wasn’t really in charge of our valley.

And the work she was bringing her friend was the easy work, the work I’m supposed to have access too and this support person didn’t share any with me. Just took it all to her friend– who has no reason to need the work that requires less bending.

I look around and I see other who have been given the same accommodation I have, but mine have not been adjusted for the day. And I don’t think the person I saw with three carts adapted has official medical paperwork. Yet, I had to trade work with a neighbor because my work did not meet my documented needs.

So I mentioned to my supervisor, maybe we could sit down with P&C (People and Culture, Stitch Fix’s HR department) to offer some final insight that the company does not seem to have appropriate, consistent policies in place to meet workers’ needs when it comes to reasonable, official ADA protected accommodations.

Not even thirty minutes later, the person who brought preferential work to her friend (who is the same person who messed up my fix last month if you were here for that saga) brought another cart of that work to my neighbor, I can’t recall if she has a name in this blog, so I’ll just call her my neighbor and fan (as she is reading my Fashion and Fiends novel series. Please buy books. I am losing my job after all.) My neighbor gave her the nastiest glare, and she walked off the floor and went to someone to complain. Then, she gave me the work.

The person who brought it to her apologized, and my neighbor explained to her very politely that I have documented medical issues. She said she didn’t know, but that’s malarkey because she told me to my face that she would only give me the work when she was certain she had enough for everyone else.

So she knows better, because she was admonished before. Even my neighbor mentioned that is really is ridiculous that every day I have to advocate for myself. And they had a really good system in place in the beginning, but too many people complained that they didn’t think it was fair.

But on the happy side, we had a popcorn chicken luncheon and left work at noon so that gave me a chance to rest before my physical and keep editing Road Trip, the fourth full novel of Fashion and Fiends.

Medical

When I arrived at my primary care physician’s office, half the office had lost power. Mercury is indeed in retrograde. I have lost four pounds recently. My blood pressure is good. I had no new complaints and I thanked the team for being so diligent and willing to listen to me throughout the craziness of 2023.

And to think– salt may have been the culprit all along.

My primary care physician read my neurologist’s notes and called her “smart” and “good” and liked her assessments and her approach to my care. So I mentioned to him that I have two questions I ask every new doctor.

  1. What do you see when you examine me?
  2. If I add you to my team, when should I call you?

This allows me to digest their observations and learn from them and know exactly which doctor to call and under what circumstances.

Then my doctor and I discussed medications, and I confirmed that I’ve felt great since weaning off my SSRI and that my new cardiologist and I agree that once I get through this job loss and transition into whatever else is next we will probably discontinue the beta blocker.

It’s always a good idea, he said, to minimize one’s medications.

I mentioned that I just didn’t think it would be a good idea to have an SSRI, a muscle relaxer and a beta blocker in my system. That’s why when he called and told me to stop the SSRI, I had already been lowering my dose.

I added to the conversation that I knew I had a responsibility to do what I could to solve the problem, because the medical establishment would eventually start throwing more pills at me if I didn’t improve. And that that is not a criticism of doctors, but an admission that I felt something was off so if I did everything I could do to give the doctors more clues, it would hopefully lead to answers.

He paused for a minute, and agreed with me, and basically thanked me for taking responsibility for myself and my health.

The Gym

Today, Andrew tried to cripple me with a leg workout. I can feel him challenging my range of motion and I love it. I did manage to deadlift about 120 lbs.

Another day in a sad warehouse

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

At the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy, the facilities crew is quite literally taking the warehouse down around us as we do our jobs. Bits and pieces of the warehouse are literally left on a “free” pile for employees to cannibalize– plexiglass, craft paper, pvc pipe, stickers, lanyards, pins. You never know what bits and pieces will turn up on the pile.

This week started early dismissals, where they let us go while paying us for the whole day. They already diverted the bulk of our work to the remaining warehouses– the Hoozy (Indiana), the Phizzy (Phoenix) and the Breezy (Atlanta). The company didn’t expect so many of us to stay so long. Tomorrow we have our final employee appreciation luncheon.

Today we received tickets for a raffle for some of the larger items left and some random prizes (outdoor chairs, air fryers, speakers, a shop vac) and furniture, decorations, and a bidet. They set up the items in the back of the warehouse, where we crossed an empty central zone where the facilities team has been stacking empty work tables, unneeded conveyer belts and pieces of racks in large cardboard gaylords.

And even amid this, and as I interview for new positions that range from professional to freelance to more warehouse work, I struggle to make my numbers. I almost wonder if my body is saying, “What’s the point?”

And today I realized, as we still struggle with “us against them” mentality in a warehouse full of cliques, that everyone is eager to help a friend with a temporary disability– like pregnancy, childbirth, surgery, an accident or an injury. But if people are asked to help a stranger or a peer with a permanent disability, especially if its something alien or scary to them, some will be reluctant or resentful. And some, if faced with someone who may have an invisible disability, will behave in a manner that is judgmental and without grace.

So, as I step into another sad day in our warehouse, I ask all of us to extend grace and kindness wherever we can.

Everything Wrong with America

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

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.