The Day of Surrender

“I remember glancing to my left at John wondering if he was thinking the same thing I was. "Oncologist" means only one thing, and the atmosphere suddenly felt surreal, as though the scene had changed from a wakeful reality to a wakeful dream.”

I haven't really talked about how the multiple myeloma diagnosis came to be, but it was completely unexpected. I have had degenerative disc disease in my spine for several years, and it has gotten progressively harder to manage. It's a frustrating condition, so common that it seems like it's handled dismissively, for the most part, by the medical community. Just because something is common doesn't mean it isn't painfully debilitating. The common cold even has the word "common" in its name, but there are few things that can make one feel more miserable. In the case of degenerative disc disease, I have considered that it is also a potential culprit in disguising or concealing an even more sinister disorder, as in my case.

The demands of my job made the condition even worse. The physical requirements most often involve a good deal of lifting, pushing, and pulling heavy objects; climbing ladders; repeatedly bending, stretching, and reaching; and walking several miles a day on hard cement floors. I have done it for more than 13 years--since 2007 when I transferred from the Home Office to the store as an assistant manager. In the beginning, I welcomed the exertion as a great way to help stay in shape, but as I got older, it became more difficult and I found myself rolling slowly out of bed in the mornings, my feet tender and sore, my body stiff and my joints like rusty hinges squealing for a squirt from the oil can.

In the fall of 2016, I experienced a bit of a reprieve when the company decided to put training facilities in 200 of our stores across the country. The Walmart Academy would be comprised of a team of salaried training facilitators and hourly managers who would be tasked with delivering classroom training to the hourly and salaried managers from stores in their nearby markets as well as from other areas of the country. I was so excited about the opportunity to become a training facilitator. I have always enjoyed public speaking and teaching and training, so I jumped at the chance to interview for one of the positions. I'll never forget our academy's grand opening where the facilitators were given the opportunity to demonstrate our skills by facilitating portions of the content to store and market managers from around the region ahead of the classes that would be scheduled for our associates. Our Market Human Resource Manager at the time was in attendance when I presented my portion of the content. When I finished, he shook my hand, leaned in and whispered, "You were born for this!"

Facilitating was such a thrill for me. Like good writing, even the driest content, if delivered "pro-style," as the facilitator who trained us described it, would keep your participants alert and engaged as opposed to glassy-eyed and comatose. It was more challenging sometimes than others, and I was always up to the challenge.

It also provided a break from the heavy physical work that I had been required to do on the sales floor, but it wasn't a picnic. Standing on my feet for hours holding an iPad made my back between my shoulder blades burn as though an electric probe was methodically prodding every nerve ending. Headaches were common too. But I had finally found something I loved to do and was good at, so I persevered.

For four years, I gave my all to the associates I trained. I had found my niche, but the powers that be had other plans, and during this already challenging pandemic year of COVID-19, they implemented a management restructure that forced all facilitators who had been in the academy for more than two years out of their positions and replaced them with other managers, many of whom were not suited for the position and would likely never have applied for it voluntarily. In the store, new "coach" positions were created for the salaried managers who were being displaced from within the academy as well as from within the store, but as often happens in such restructures, not everyone would be offered a position.

In early September when I was experiencing increased pain in my lower back, I convinced my primary care physician (PCP) to order an MRI. He was reluctant to do it but capitulated because I of my insistence, and it was done on 8 September at 3:30 in the afternoon. A few weeks later, I took some time off to fly to Oklahoma City for my dad's 84th birthday. I hadn't heard from my PCP about the MRI results but I wasn't concerned.

The day after I returned from the trip, my doctor's office called wanting to schedule an appointment with the doctor right away so he could cover my MRI results with me. I set the appointment for the morning of Thursday, 1 October, the same day my manager had arranged for me to come into the store to learn what my future with the company would be.

John, the man I had been seeing for about four and half months at the time, went with me at my request because he has had back surgery and, I thought, might be a good source of information should my PCP suggest that might be a possibility for me. Boy, were we in for a sobering surprise.

We were both seated in side chairs in one of the exam rooms, masks covering our faces, as was required, anticipating a report that I might have a bulging or slipped disc or some such issue that would eventually need to be addressed in such-and-such a way. But when my doctor entered the room and sat down across from us, that is not what he said.

"The MRI showed some areas of concern that I want you to have checked out. I'm going to give you a referral to an oncologist at The Woodlands. I'm also going to order a series of blood tests that might tell us more about what's going on."

I remember glancing to my left at John wondering if he was thinking the same thing I was. "Oncologist" means only one thing, and the atmosphere suddenly felt surreal, as though the scene had changed from a wakeful reality to a wakeful dream.

"Okay," I said absently, still processing what I had heard. There was no discussion that I recall. I don't remember asking questions. The next thing I knew, I was carrying an order to the lab and getting blood drawn. Then John and I were on our way back to Navarre where my next appointment would be with my store manager that afternoon.

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The foreboding feeling that had slowly crept into my brain following my appointment with my doctor grew even stronger as I walked into my store and made my way to the back where the manager's office was. In the days prior to that meeting, I had spoken with several of my co-workers and knew where most of them had been placed. I was still hopeful that I had been chosen for one of the coach positions, if not in the academy store, then in another store in our market.

My immediate supervisor and the store manager invited me to sit down. My usual perceptive abilities had been numbed by the news of the oncology referral that morning, so I really wasn't consciously reading anything from their mannerisms or voices. I guess I felt that whatever they said would pale in comparison to the news I'd received earlier that day.

"You were not chosen for one of the new positions," the store manager said. He proceeded to explain my options, which were to continue in the store as a "coverage manager," working in whatever capacity I was needed, filling in when other managers were sick or took planned time off, while I looked for another position, either within the company or externally. I had one year, until 21 October, 2021, to secure another position. If I failed to do so, I would be terminated as of that date. The second option was severance paid through the end of the fiscal year, or 31 January 2021. Neither choice was favorable, but in light of my situation, there was only one that was feasible, and that was to continue in the store while I searched for another job.

Numb. That's how I felt. Resigned, defeated, surrendering to the inevitable powerlessness of my situation.

I could rant, but what good would it do? The last time I lost control and ranted at work, I was disciplined for it. It is ludicrous to suggest that it wasn't a factor for the decision that was made about my position, but it certainly wasn't the only one. Over the years, I had made a name for myself as somewhat of an outspoken critic when I felt that something wasn't fair or in my best interest or the best interests of the associates for whom I cared deeply. I did my best to present my grievances with the highest level of professional courtesy, though a few times I admit I was less than successful. For any strong-minded individual like me, I would simply caution you to pick your battles carefully and be prepared to be maligned by those who resent being held accountable because that is what will inevitably happen. Be prepared for misconceptions and misunderstandings on the part of people who you never knew held them nor how they came to think as they did.

One such revelation was made clear to me when I was disciplined after that rant not long ago. When the disciplinary action was conducted, one of the managers who sat in as a third-party observer claimed that I had tried several years before to have another store manager fired after the company changed our management schedules in a way that severely impacted our work/life balance. I was completely taken aback by the assertion and tried to correct the record with the manager, but they held firm to their erroneous recollection of the incident.

Because the false assertion was presented in front of my immediate supervisor, I felt compelled to set the record straight in writing, so I sent an email explaining how several years before, I had written a personal appeal to one of my contacts at Home Office when it was announced that our management schedule was being rescinded in favor of a more stringent one. In my disciplinary action, the manager claimed that I had written a petition to have my store manager fired and that I shared it with other members of management, asking them to sign it with me. That allegation was patently false. As I told my supervisor, I don’t know if it was a matter of faulty memory on the manager's part, or if their memory of the incident was clouded by either their own misconceptions about me or that of others who may have influenced their judgment where I am concerned, but it was erroneous nonetheless. I have never written such a petition. First of all, I would never be so delusional as to think I had any power or influence to have a store manager removed unless he or she committed an illegal, immoral, or unethical act of which I had indisputable proof, none of which I have ever contended any store manager has done. Secondly, it would have been a blatant violation of the Concerted Activity policy, and I surely would have been disciplined for it had I been stupid enough to attempt it. No, it was nothing even remotely like that. My letter was simply an appeal to the powers that were at the time about the importance of our work/life balance and a request that they reconsider changing our schedules. I also offered some suggestions about how they might change the management structure to achieve one of the company’s highest goals, saving money, and improve our productivity without sacrificing the schedule so many of us loved.

Ironically enough, a few years later, even though the schedule change was ultimately applied, our leaders implemented a structure change that included the suggestion I had made in my letter.

For the manager to have stated that false allegation out loud as they did in that meeting was damaging to my reputation and further reinforced my experiences of being denigrated simply because I had the courage to do what Sam Walton advocated in Rule #7 of his 10 Rules: Listen to other people and learn from their ideas.

I want to make it clear that I do not believe the manager had any malicious intent; that is not their nature. I believe they thought what they were saying was true.

In any case, the damage was done. I take full responsibility for my shortcomings, but I also know my worth and the caliber of employee I am. In a society where a solid work ethic is as rare as snow in Florida, I have always tried to work hard and give my best. I don't understand a business model that chooses to ignore an associate's strengths and fails to utilize his or her talents in roles where their knowledge, skills, and abilities can best contribute to the business's success and instead forces them into positions for which they are not well suited. Just as some seeds won’t germinate in the wrong temperate zone or infertile soil, an individual cannot achieve his or her full potential if they are forced to conform to a preset path that disregards their own aspirations and goals for success.

Just as with the multiple myeloma diagnosis, I feel powerless...almost.