Christmas Letter 2009
Merry Christmas to all!
2009
The end of 2008 had a glimmer of hope for breakthroughs and successful adventures in life, business, and family… and now that I look back over the past 12 months, I have one question: What the hell!? But there is an answer… and the answer is good.
As I write this, I find the shadow of sorrow settling on my mind; my heart weighted with memories wearisome to my very soul. This year does not come with much laughter buried in misfortunate adventures (some, yes), yet the letter must go on! Do not lose heart and close the book on the readings within… for the stories of my life may resurface in your minds-eye just at the right time; besides, I’ll keep it relatively short this time. Hold to the end, by friend –this letter delivers a pleasant twist to the otherwise gloomy details of the past year, which will set the stage for a new phase in my life.
This year has brought significant change… and with change comes a verse from the Bible (also used in a song called Turn, Turn, Turn by the Byrds in 1965):
Ecclesiastes 3
1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
The Spiral Downward…
…began in December of 2008, after I finished my Christmas letter for the year. Winter is typically tough for construction related activities, but I rested in the diversity built into Atlas (my company), and focused on reaching as many prospective clients as possible. I did everything I could to give the company the boost it needed to keep moving full-steam ahead, but my relentless pursuit could not draw clients fast enough to keep the pace. As employees parted ways, either by force or fancy, I realized it was best to leave their positions vacated. The number of days my staff filed unemployment claims became troublesome, as I had not really experienced more than a day or two without work. Instant doom looming on the horizon of any small company came closer, looking like a specter of death though a foggy night.
I contained my stress to the best of my ability while in the presence of my staff; although only a small number actually took time to inquire. Shielding them from the impending disaster, I released my frustrations and fears in the privacy of my own shop… and at the expense of a truck utility box that suffered several dents by way of a steel-toed boot.
Smoke and flying metal…
… is not what you want to see erupting from your premier money-making machine when you are dead-broke. I was working with a friend/ staff one Saturday to finish up a job where we stood to make a decent profit; possibly enough to help pull the company back onto the race track. The mighty vac-truck had a couple small issues at the time, but nothing I couldn’t fix myself over a long weekend. This day though, it performed like the awesome work-horse, as I’d come to expect! Until I walked out of the huge concrete tank we were working in, only to find the front of the truck spewing volcanic levels of smoke and steam – flying metal engine parts falling to the ground with a thud; a thud almost as loud as my stomach dropping when I saw it. Within 5 steps I made haste and shut it down… but I was too late. The damage was done and the death blow delivered to the most valuable, most equitable piece of equipment I possessed, and as the tow truck carried the carcass away, my heart nearly split in two. I wanted to vomit.
The truck sat dead in the mechanic’s yard until late November. It is gone now; in the hands of another… sigh.
The release…
… of my entire staff came at the end of March. Too many days without work, and a mountain of endless debt brought me to a terrible decision – to release my staff and go it alone. My worker’s compensation insurance renewal letter spelled it out: Pay us an enormous amount of money immediately or stand to be in violation of the law, leaving my employees unprotected from workplace injury coverage.
Although we worked from day-one without a single injury, the insurance premium demands climbed beyond my reach. So I called in the staff that remained and delivered the terrible news – they had to go home and tell their family they were let go, and I was left to do everything alone. I found some comfort in knowing they qualified for unemployment benefits and could put food on the table, while I could claim nothing of the sort. Winston Churchill once said “it’s not enough to do what is necessary; sometimes we must do what is required.” Regardless of the uncertain future I faced, I will never forget or lose sight of the cold hand of reality being dealt to these families that day.
So there I was, alone…
The first job I did solo was a grand challenge I rose to meet head-on. I replaced sewer pipe using my Trenchless pipe-bursting equipment and my excavator in two days. For me, it was not an insignificant feat! I would have assigned 2-3 workers to do what I did solo. I realized a couple things by the time I finished (aside from being completely exhausted):
One, I was completely capable of doing the work and could practice what I’d preached to my staff. Two, I was unaware of the mechanical problems with the equipment, which I’ve been told my staff knew about all along. And three, just because I could do the work didn’t mean I found joy in it.
You see, I did not start the company to operate all the field work, maintain all the equipment, do the entire bookkeeping, etc, etc, etc… I started the company to grow it into something bigger than myself; to give value and stability to employees and their families; to manage a corporation and make some money in the process. The core vision shattered again and again with every sunrise. Yet, I continued to pull myself forward, trying to find a path through the darkness, into better days… though I did not know the way.
Then Cheryl helped make a connection that had such promise of delivering new life into the company. For purposes of this letter, I’ll call him Jim (because that’s his name). Jim’s resume had a wealth of experience in the construction trade; able to operate any piece of equipment; ability to develop and run crews of any size and experience levels; he even knew concrete! On top of everything, he didn’t have a job and desperately needed one.
So, I brought Jim into the company as a very minor partner. All his references were strong, so we made a contract and before long he joined me in the push to get back on top of the game.
First big job!
Shortly after Jim came aboard, we landed the biggest job Atlas had from a single bid – sewer and water system replacement and reroute with a three week self-imposed schedule; aggressive but certainly achievable. We gathered a couple temporary workers and started work in late June. While Jim got that job started, I contracted and began working with a retired engineer to help gather work for our aggressive growth strategy, which started to come into view… until…
Reader, I thought this would be Atlas breaking the sound barrier of success… I thought this would grow and grow with teams being developed, trained and sent out into the market… I thought the vision I had in the beginning was about to regain itself… I thought, I hoped, I prayed… but then…
Breaking ground again and again and again… brought to you by the letter ‘A’...
Our three week schedule turned into four… then five... then six. By the 2nd week of the project I began having difficulties in relating to Jim. By the end of the 3rd week, the new sewer had to be dug up three separate times for three completely different reasons! While I ran off to do small jobs alone, and work with our engineer friend, I disconnected myself from the project. I became (or so I thought) a consultant to Jim, giving advice and recommendations as I listened to his daily stories. Sadly, my advice had fallen on deaf ears, but when an ego is like wet cotton – swollen, heavy, and nearly impossible to work with – what do you do but try to rescue the project in spite of the wet cotton ego?
The final straw for Jim’s wet, cottony, easily shredded ego came when the city 100% rejected 115 feet of the sewer he installed! I nearly lost my cool, but the job needed to be finished so I decided to get mad after the task was complete. I did everything I could to challenge the city’s rejection, but ultimately my challenge failed and the rejection upheld. I totally believe the city was correct in their rejection, but wanted desperately to make this project work out… my company depended on it.
The quest to gather more work dropped to the bottom of the priority list while I planned my strategy to the rescue the project from the hands of my reckless partner. One portion of the project that actually turned out ok needed to be paved, and the weather window gave August 12th as the only day to pave.
Before we look at pave day… let’s take a detailed look at the day BEFORE our pave day – August 11th; my 2nd wedding anniversary, which also just happened to be Jim’s 2nd anniversary as well. I enlisted JR (my oldest son) to help prepare the area for paving the next day. We got to the project early, but Jim arrived late. We all worked toward the goal, but when 5:00 rolled around, Jim decided the paving schedule could not be met, and I’d have to call the paving subcontractor off. Well, we had some pretty tense words at that point… and he left the project with a great chasm between us. He agreed to return at 5:30 AM to work toward the paving schedule with me, but he was going on his anniversary date, and that was that… while I on the other hand delivered JR to Cheryl’s dance lesson and returned to the project.
The dark night dampened my spirit as the hours grew long. The light sprinkle eventually soaked my shirt, but paled to the amount of sweat pouring from my aching body. By 10:30 that night, I returned home to have a warmed up plate of left-overs with my beautiful wife, knowing I’d be getting up with the sun to pick up where I left off, striving to meet or beat the paving company… I didn’t call them off or attempt to delay their schedule… call it pride, call it a self-imposed mountain to climb… either way, I needed to make it work and I refused to let sleep stand in my way.
I pictured our 2nd anniversary with a nice dinner and a couple glasses of wine, but just hanging out together sufficed for the time. We were enjoying our time in peace, but the peace broke with a knock on the front door. To our surprise, Jim’s wife stood at the door shaking and scared; jeans spattered and streaked with mud. Through her muttering we discovered Jim was in trouble and needed help.
Where? Near the mailboxes at the cul-de-sac entrance; in the grass and mud; rolling from one side of his well-fed stomach to his back – over and over again. We rushed to assist the man, even though he did not rank too high in my book of friends. His wife seemed in shock but wanted to caress him to full awareness with her gentle words, and soft touches… and in turn, he would roll on top of her legs like a small hippo, leaving her to cry out for help. I really thought she’d learn after getting crushed a couple times by her Jabba-the-husband, but she never caught on.
While Cheryl tried to comfort Jim’s confused spouse, and keep her from getting squished again and again, I tried to engage Jim to find out what he’d ingested. We quickly came to understand that the anniversary date turned into a bar-hopping, straight-shot taking, pity fest that included inexhaustible complaining about his hurting back. Well, wouldn’t you know it? Some mysterious group of guys at one of the worst bars in town offered to help relieve the world of his insistent whining, and said they could be trusted, so they gave him some pills for his back. Of course, the pills were taken… because they could be trusted… In his deteriorating inebriated state; waffling around in the mud, he couldn’t comprehend why he felt so terrible or why he couldn’t move his body much… and the pills didn’t take his pain away, but moved beyond his back into his chest, arms and head.
“What did they give you?” I asked.
“Something that started with the letter ‘A’…”; his words slurred and drawn out. “They said they could be trusted!” Jim replied through lips turning to mush.
His squeamish spouse finally agreed to have the medics called in, and to our amazement, along with the ambulance, three cops arrived to block the entire street! On a side note, I really enjoy talking to 911.
My anniversary finally came to a close at 1:30AM, and had way too much drama that wasn’t mine. Turns out, Cheryl and I make a pretty awesome team under bizarre circumstances. So if anything, it proved another opportunity to see us working together and growing closer because of it. In that regards, I should have thanked the intoxicated Neanderthal.
Jim went to the hospital and didn’t wake up until late the next morning. To our surprise, he made the claim he’d been poisoned! Maybe in his youth… which may explain the critical ingredients missing from his cranial Jello.
As for me, I made my 5:30 AM target to get to the job. I even made my paving schedule! All alone… then the pavers called to delay their arrival. I was okay with that, because I was spent and really needed about three days of rest. Maybe I could’ve used something that starts with the letter ‘A’!
Jim left Oregon the very next day. Never do I care to see him again, but his memory lives on… How? Well, I had to dig up the entire 115 feet of sewer pipe he installed, just to install it again so the city would accept it. A friend stepped up and really helped me out on the project, and I’m sincerely grateful for that. The project owner felt sorry for the garbage I’d been dished and gave me some grace where he really didn’t need to.
Changing tides…
I finally landed a project I’d been longing for, but certainly did not envision doing it alone… with triple-digit temperatures giving me some of the most bizarre tan lines imaginable on my legs. The tan lines, as a sad side note, still hold to my legs even into December!
While I did a large portion of the project myself, my friend reappeared and helped me again.
Since April I’d been submitting online application to government agencies from local cities to state and federal agencies as well. Something had to give! The Downing’s were drowning and seriously exhausted! Cheryl had been teaching over 15 aerobic classes each week, above her dance classes. Together, we were overworked, underpaid, and pretty frustrated at everything except each other. How amazing is that!? Financial struggles top the list of marital strife, but we weathered the storm and came out stronger because of it.
On top of all that, an office admin lady I fired at the end of January sent in a barrage of complaints against me and my company, including a sexual harassment filing that she never followed up on and fell into nothingness. That’d be like me choosing a back-woods, misshaped, rotten pumpkin over a cherry pie made by the world’s finest chef… whatever!
At the beginning of September I’d gotten two interviews with two separate departments within the Oregon Department of Transportation (ODOT); one in Salem, the other in Springfield. I managed to rise to the surface over 7 premier applicants for the Springfield position. And now… I WORK FOR ODOT!!!
The last day of the last project with Atlas ended on Saturday, October 10th. The first day with ODOT started on the 12th. The week after I started with ODOT in Springfield, the Salem position invited me back for a second interview. Although I didn’t get the Salem position, which paid more than the Springfield position, I still consider myself very fortunate to have floated to the top out of 10 other applicants.
With change… comes…
Snowboarding!!! After missing two full seasons, I headed back to the snowy slopes where I instantly transform into a kid again. My first trip of the season delivered me and William (my youngest) to Mt. Hood Meadows. It took only a couple trips down the beginner slope to get my legs working again, and before long we were cruising down from the highest peak they could offer. William did great! He perfected two things: Slow summersaults while still wearing his board, and launching himself down the last segment of the runs while riding the board on his butt. Many stopped to watch and to cheer, although I think William had too much going on to notice the attention. I need to make note that William is a total trooper! He wouldn’t let anything like a total wipeout stop him from getting up and doing some more, and wearing his aching muscles like a badge of honor.
Cheryl had her own claim to fame on our second trip on the slopes… she found the ONLY way to get down the broad, icy face of Skibowl… on her butt doing Mach3 with the board still latched to her feet! Casually turning in gentle circles, waving at me like a snow bunny borne of fine royalty; her shear velocity in stark contrast to her peaceful passing down the otherwise wickedly dangerous slope. I’ll add that I was unable to successfully negotiate my way down the slope due to the ice; leaving me with the only injury of the night: my right butt cheek.
Fire Breathing Turkey…
This Christmas letter received this final story after the family Christmas party, and after the final draft was nearly complete, so I’ll keep it brief… As I pulled the 22lb turkey out of the oven, the flimsy cooking pan buckled slightly, pouring hot grease directly onto the hot element. The grease ignited instantly, belching thick flames over the top of the turkey into my face as Cheryl let out a scream and ran from the kitchen. I hoisted the turkey onto its final resting place, where the tools of its demise were waiting. The flames eventually extinguished when the door was closed, but the smoke refused to go away. The smoke alarm wouldn’t shut up, and those around stood at full alert to push the button again and again. The oven was wiped clean of the grease and the smoke did eventually clear out of the house, but after everybody left, I found my right eyebrow and eyelashes slightly singed.
So the year ends… filled with memories of tragedy and triumph. As the opening verses described, there is indeed a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven. For us, a season has ended and another began. We have hopes of adopting a girl this coming year, but we’re still uncertain as to what seasons are ahead of us.
One last note… the failure of a business and the mournful memories that remain often are difficult for others to relate to. While I deeply appreciate the empathic apologies, I find satisfaction in knowing that the run was great, and even through the darkest difficulties hidden to most, my marriage is strong and my faith (hidden to most as well) has left me closer to God than I could have ever imagined… so with that perspective, this year resembles less like failure, and more like overwhelming success!
“If you have made mistakes, even serious ones, there is always another chance for you. What we call failure is not the falling down but the staying down.”
Mary Pickford (1893 - 1979)