I created this blog post on January 6th, can you believe that? Well you should... if you don't. It has remained empty because I didn't want to fill it out and jinx anything with a potential career change, but the post has existed. Anyway, lemme tell you why.
I was/am/have been unhappy for a long time. The reasoning as to why is varied and complicated, because it touches on all sorts of things. Love life, personal friendships, living situation, physical fitness, and of course, my job. Some days certain topics carry more weight than others, and some days none of them seem to bother me. But it's a constant fluctuation on the ferris wheel of my life and it has kept me spinning for a long time.
Way back in December of 2021 I was told about an opportunity with my best friend Katie's company as a Technical Writer. This meant working from home, not customer facing (thank god), and in a field I have always been passionate about.
Not sure if you kids know this about me or not, but I'm a writer. Author, if you're nasty.
I was hesitant but ultimately ready to jump at this. We polished up my resume and I fired it off... and then waited. And waited and waited and waited and waited. False hopes were constantly thrown at me, "you'll get a call this week" and "you should have an e-mail today." But nothing ever came. I was holding out for what was supposed to be a sure-fire thing with my foot so firmly in the open door, and eventually it resulted with a phone call in April that was another clear indicator the job was mine. But I would have to wait longer. And longer.
And longer.
I gave it a time limit, saying that if I hadn't heard anything by mid-July, then I was going to move on. The hard thing about having this dangled above my head for so long (to no fault of Katie's at all) was that it was a false hope I was attaching myself to. And that's hard, when you've also attached yourself to a false romance. And a false joy in your house that you never liked from day one... and a crushing disappointment in your health and fitness journey. See where I'm going with this?
Andrew moved out at the start of July, and having that piece of the puzzle set in place (or removed?) gave me the small amount of clarity I needed. It made me realize that at the core of a lot of this was that I was no longer happy, in any meaning of the word, at Pottery Barn. I'd spent so many months thinking "it's not the company, it's that you want something different! It's not your role, it's that you just need a change!" But that wasn't it.
It was the crushing responsibility of being the General Manager there. Constantly on-call, constantly answering e-mails in your time off and messages from the staff. Problem solving at any given moment. Thinking of how to spin bad news to a customer base that is so volatile and cruel that the words they sling back at you stick and stay, long after your shift has ended. I really don't have a lot of negative things to say about Williams-Sonoma Inc, by any means. It is a pretty great company with excellent benefits and inclusivity. Pay is "fine," but that is always subjective. It's the customers.
This isn't because of Covid and the shipping issues created because of it, either. This is well documented amongst my peers that have left over the years. When you're "in" the situation, you make excuses. You're so conditioned to just taking it from them that you understand it's just part of the job. Part of the paycheck. I've had grown ass adults screaming at the top of their lungs at me both on the phone and in person for several years because of their furniture not coming on time, or being delayed, or arriving damaged. Screaming at me over "stuff."
It's just. Fucking. Stuff.
I've had people demand I fly to Vietnam to oversee the construction of a home office suite to ensure the quality. I've had people expect free sectionals due to a botched delivery and that is what they feel they are owed. I've had quite wealthy clients come in and throw a full-on temper tantrum over a floor model that they got cheaper at another store and demand I credit the difference for the one they purchased at my store. This instance in particular involved a hand-slapping-on-the-counter-with-raised-voice-and-demeaningly-ruel-words-full-on temper tantrum.
Eventually you realize the effect this all has on your mental health. Eventually you realize it's not normal to dread going to work because of a phone call you've got to make to a customer or an e-mail you need to reply to. Eventually you realize it isn't normal to be on the verge of tears because of the fear you hold in handling a situation for one of your associates because it means you're going to be the one taking the gunfire. Eventually you realize that you no longer spend your time at work as the General Manager actually managing... you're just putting out fires and throwing "the Sean Parker spin" on e-mails to get your team out of danger territory with a guest.
Ultimately... eventually... you realize how much Stockholm syndrome has taken hold of your life and that it's time to make a change.
I told my boss a week after Andrew moved out that I didn't want to be the General Manager at Pottery Barn anymore. I couldn't handle the stress of the job, and I could no longer be what my team needed me to be. I'd spent so long putting myself and my mental health on the back burner that the damage control I was doing for myself was almost insurmountable. It wasn't okay anymore. I had heard a rumor from several people that the District Visual Manager was wanting to step away from her role, and I suggested that I would like to take it. He thought this was a great idea, as there was merit to the rumor, and he would reach out with next steps. I felt better already.
Only a week later, however, he called to ask me point blank "why are you telling people you are pushing so-and-so out of their job and taking it for yourself?" I was gobsmacked. I had never once said that... never would say that... and was confused as to how the words I had actually shared had been twisted that way. "So-and-so is really happy in their position and won't be stepping away, so what you need to do is control the narrative in your store and make sure your team understands how happy you are in your role." I sat there with my face burning with so many emotions... embarrassment, betrayal, heartbreak, anger, confusion... when the big words came out from him:
"You need to make sure you're leaving behind a good legacy."
10 years of service wasn't enough to secure my "legacy." Six full years as the General Manager, plus two holiday seasons as the Acting General Manger... that wasn't enough for my"legacy." Getting my team through Covid and quarantine and George Floyd and the civil unrest, that wasn't enough for my "legacy." Never-mind that I never made waves, or asked for help from other stores, or needed assistance in hiring. That we were always staffed, that my team was happy, that I advocated and fought for more pay to each one of them that deserved and earned it. Never-mind that my mental health was at the lowest point it has, arguably, ever been in my life.
I needed to leave behind a good legacy, and because I was crumbling as a human being, said legacy was in jeopardy.
That afternoon I accepted the invite from a recruiter with Gap, and in a little over two weeks, I had secured my new job as the General Manager for Banana Republic. A former colleague had made the transition earlier in the year and for a moment I was concerned people would think she had something to do with it, but I knew that wasn't the truth and came to understand that it didn't matter if that's what people assumed. I earned the job based on my own merits, my own skillset, and that is something I am very proud of.
Did you know I never actually interviewed to be the GM with Pottery Barn? They just gave it to me when the spot opened up at the store I was in. Talk about not feeling like you earned something, right? Retail is a thankless job and it's definitely something everyone should have to do at least once in their life. But to feel like it is a thankless job from within your own organization... that was the final straw for me.
Giving my notice was difficult because it was emotional. I'm an emotional guy (no big surprise), so letting your friends (essentially your family) know that you are leaving is a really tough thing to do. And what's funny is that when you DO give that notice... suddenly the "legacy" you are leaving behind is now crystal clear.
Emotions from everyone start to emerge. There you have me, the writer and self-appointed "emotional vampire," sucking it all up.
You start to understand for maybe the first time what you actually meant to people.
We had a whole-store meeting the week after I gave my notice, the first whole-store meeting we'd been directed to host in 6 years. I had already told everyone personally about my decision to leave and why, so they all knew about it going into the meeting (which was supposed to be about where we were on the year and then some trainings that needed to happen as we moved into the third quarter). What the meeting turned into was a general love fest, if that's the right phrase? I went around the circle and told each associate and manager what they meant to the store and to me, thanking them each for their service and what they brought to the table for the team. I glossed over the more touching aspects for each person, because I kept feeling myself inching toward the point of tears and I didn't want the meeting to be about that. Me, crying, waxing poetic.
But then they turned it to me.
They went around the circle in the same order and told me what I had done for them. A few used the words "you saved me," and when I tell you that my throat sealed itself almost completely, that's an understatement. Some I saved from a crummy former work situation, some I gave a chance because I saw talent in them. There were the people I saved from isolation due to Covid, and others who had a specific schedule requirement that I was always fine accommodating. My energy, my humor, my kindness, my empathy, my understanding... it was a lot to take in, being that for the most part, it was the first I had ever heard of these sentiments.
Admittedly there is a part of me that wishes I knew some of these things before I decided to leave. Not that it would have changed my decision, but just... I don't know. I guess it's nice to hear that you're doing a good job now and then. It's lonely at the top, as they say, and you spend a lot of your time celebrating the achievements of your team (as you should) when not much usually comes back to you for leading them there. There were the "I love working with you!" comments over the years, but (and maybe I'm alone here) those sometimes can feel like throwaway statements, y'know? Akin to "I love when you make this for dinner!" or something. You listen and you appreciate but ultimately you disregard.
I'm also this way when people compliment how I look, it's just a thing I do. Anyway.
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| My open letter to the staff |
A week later, my last day with Pottery Barn carried such odd feelings. My boss and several General Managers and managers in training were in my store for the day, coincidentally, and I got to have a great final lunch with them and meet the person who was maybe taking over my store. I felt complete in my decision making, realizing it was time for the passing of the guard or whatever you want to call it. My time had come. It was the first time I've ever left a job and didn't write personalized letters to the staff, or at least some of the staff. I used to do that for some reason that was lost on me... maybe I just thought it was appropriate back then? I instead this time wrote an open letter to the staff, so that they knew where my heart was and that largely, it stayed with them.
When the day was over, I got in my car and sat there, tears welling in my eyes and my hands shakily holding the steering wheel as I stared at the store. I was thinking about the two weeks preceding... then the 10 years preceding... and what the future holds. It was surreal. I felt like I was standing at the precipice of something new and exciting again. I felt this same way 10 years ago when I first started at Pottery Barn.
Because 10 years ago, #10 on my list of 26 Golden Things (an old door closes) seemed like the most impossible one to achieve. Leaving Express after 8 years was this weird, foreign concept to me because it was leaving familiarity. Today I re-read that blog and it sorta struck me how similar I feel now as I did then. The uncertainty before me, the fear of stepping out of a comfort zone and learning how to do things all over again. Not being the most knowledgable in the building, not having all the answers at the drop of a hat or the work around in any given situation. But staying meant staying complacent in a life I have been far too... complacent... with. That's not what I need right now.
What I need is change. It's what I crave. New starts and fresh beginnings and glimpses of hope that will direct me on my path. Like I wrote back in 2012, the time has come for it to be over and for me to move along. I've been in a stasis with Pottery Barn (re: life) for too long, waiting for things to happen to me instead of making them happen for myself. Taking the reigns again feels good and it's something I'm trying to re-learn in many different ways right now.
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| Pottery Barn #733, The Shoppes at Arbor Lakes |
I rest easy now in knowing what legacy I leave behind at Pottery Barn. I know that I always led people first and foremost with kindness. I know that I was always fair, that I strived to do what was right, and that I chose to see the good in everyone. It may not have always been the best strategy, as some people (as we all know) are just plain and simple rotten, but it was what worked for me. And in the end, I feel it worked for them too. I was anticipating a call from one of the Regional Vice Presidents... or the Senior Vice President that had hired me. People I had developed relationships with over my 10 years and ones I thought might be curious to why I was leaving and would want to maybe wish me well. I also expected a call from HR to give me an exit interview.
None of that happened.
Because none of that happened, I rested even more easily in my decision to leave. Perhaps I held myself on a higher pedestal than my role was truly worth... perhaps, like the entitled customers I had come to loathe from my exceptional service over the years, I, too, had become blind to what I was owed. But then when I think on it, I never had a bad corporate visit, did I? Nope. Not from the CEO, not from the brand president, and not from the multiple visits with the Regionals and District Managers. In my six years in charge at this store, the visual standards were always exemplary, operating procedures were followed to a T. I was always fully hired, we were always happy, and we were always professional. Maybe I wasn't owed a phone call... but I know what true respect looks like, and I know how I was respected by my team and my peers... and I know I had earned a phone call.
Holding onto that kind of anger is pointless, however, and when it all boils down... it's too harmful to not just let go of it. So I've written it out here and I gladly leave it behind with all the other things unsaid and undone with this company.
Deepak Chopra wrote the quote at the top of the blog, but it does leave out the second sentence and the one I like the most: "All great changes are preceded by chaos. The disruption we see in the world is the prelude to emergence." I think my life this year has been such a big damn mess (read my blogs), but it can only mean good, right? Just like saying when you've hit rock bottom, there's nowhere to go but up.
Tonight I went to my former stock associate's house for the farewell party the staff threw for me. I visited with them, we chatted, and we all had a good time before I came home. It's surreal to not be "the boss" anymore, but the most exciting thing is now I can transition into "friend" with them and be able to fully be myself with them. Tomorrow I start my new career at Banana Republic. It's wild that this has all finally come to a close, but here we are! When all is said and done, it's another big change for me. It's not the last one, probably the last "big" one for this year, but certainly not the last one. Guess you'll just have to see what comes next.
Ciao for now (c:
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