Climbing Down The Ladder

[I’ve been writing an revising this post for a couple of months now.  But today is Labor Day, and that seems an appropriate time to click the “Publish” button on this one.]

Last year we heard about the rise of “quiet quitting.”  Workers get fed up with their jobs, but recognize employment as a necessary evil and resolve to do only what is specifically required of them.  Or, as Peter Gibbons said in 1999’s “Office Space”: “…that’ll only make someone work just hard enough not to get fired.”

On the surface that doesn’t seem to demonstrate much of a work ethic.  But what are we working for?  Why do we even have our jobs?  For a tiny portion of the work force, jobs aren’t really “work”.  Those people have the good fortune of getting paid to do something they love.  I have always counted myself among them.  But this is not true for most people.  Most people have jobs because they need money for food and rent.  They are not necessarily interested in advancement or promotion unless that comes with more money.  But advancement also comes with more responsibility!  And unless you are one of those people who loves their job, more responsibility equates with more stress; and stress causes anxiety, and anxiety leads to being unhappy and/or depressed.  And so people who have “had it” with the rat race have decided to run that race as little as possible.  They do only what is required and politely decline any new or additional responsibility.

I’ve never been one to do that.  As I reflect upon my career I can’t say I was ever overly ambitious.  I’ve never had a 5-year plan mapping out my Life or career or tried to figure out “where I want to be.”  I never aspired to Leadership or a corner office or to be in charge of anything.  I just have always liked making things work and helping people.  If there was a situation or opportunity for me to do those things, I usually took it.  Sometimes my hand went up with enthusiasm, but more often it went up because nobody else’s did.  In “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” Dumbledore says to Harry, “It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.”  That pretty much sums up my career.  I found myself in positions of increased responsibility, culminating at SUNY Potsdam with a stint as Acting Chief Information Officer; not because I ever sought it, but because it was “thrust upon [me]”.  And no one was more surprised than I that I apparently “wear it well”.

For lots of reasons which I will not go into here, I decided that my time at SUNY Potsdam was over.  An opportunity at SUNY’s Information Technology Exchange Center (ITEC) presented itself and I applied for and was offered a position there.  I took the job and looked forward to a position of relative simplicity compared to what I had been doing at SUNY Potsdam.  And that’s how it was!  For awhile…

I joined ITEC at the height of pre-vaccine COVID.  The 2020-2021 academic year was taught from home.  Campuses were “closed” to traditional academic operations.  The vaccine was found and by the Spring of 2021 campuses were making plans to resume normal operations for the Fall.  This resulted in a lot of people making the decision not to return to campus.  Some thought it still wasn’t safe.  Some, after having spent over a year working very effectively from home had grown to like it and didn’t see the point in going back, and others were close enough to retirement that they didn’t want to bother.  These people turned in their notice and moved on.  That scenario played out on one of the smaller Community Colleges in the SUNY system and the newly-minted retiree was an I.T. professional with decades of experience and responsibility on the campus.  The campus decided to enlist ITEC’s assistance and services in dealing with the transition and I was asked to step in as the campus’ CIO.  I’d still work for ITEC, but would be contracted out on a part time basis to assist with the administrative aspects of I.T. implementation for the campus.  I’d never done anything quite like that before, but after visiting the campus and talking to all involved, I accepted the responsibility.

The campus is small.  The I.T. staff really know their stuff, and the President is highly technical.  These things combined to make working with them and the rest of the campus a breeze.  I had thought that my efforts would be transitional…temporary.  But either I was doing a good job or they couldn’t find anyone better and several years later I still had the job.

My father’s health had been failing for several years.  A victim of Lewy-body Dementia, we knew his days were numbered.  (We eventually lost Dad in January of 2022.)  I was spending most weekends in Keeseville visiting him and Mom and helping out with things as much as I could.  Amanda has always loved my hometown and has frequently frequently commented over the years that “we could live here” when we would visit.  And so we started casually paying attention to real estate listings.  You can read more about that here.  In July of 2023 we moved into our new home near Keeseville.  We ended up keeping the house in Potsdam for longer than I had intended.  We had the luxury of being able to afford to, and it proved handy to have a place to stay when we were in town.  But last October we finally sold the house.

I had told myself that selling the house would be a point at which I would sit down and make a thorough review of our finances and our budget.  I do that periodically anyhow, at least once a year.  We had actually been debt-free for all of three weeks before we bought the new house!  And last fall we splurged a little and I bought my first-ever brand new car.  As I played with our budget spreadsheet, on a lark I decided to create a calculation that showed me what things would look like if I did not have my job at all.  I don’t know what made me do it; probably just idle curiosity.  But when I hit “enter,” there it was in black and white: Amanda’s income combined with a modest bit of other income I bring in paid all of our bills with a little left over!  Certainly not enough to keep us “in the lifestyle to which we have been accustomed,” as they say; but I sat back marveling at the stark reality that had just presented itself:  I DON’T NEED MY JOB!

Wow.  That was huge!  I checked the math and everything else on the spreadsheet.  It all checked out.  Then I thought about it.  I thought about it a lot.  At no point did I consider actually quitting my job.  I’m only 56 years old and now’s not the right time for me to consider that for a few reasons.  But the realization that you don’t NEED your job is rather empowering.  And while I generally love my job and what I do and the people I work with, I thought about the things that caused me stress and/or anxiety.  The CIO duties were chief among them.  I could write an entire essay (or indeed a book) on how much the world of I.T. in higher education has changed in the last 20 years.  The very short version is that Security has sucked all of the fun out of it.  There are policy mandates and reports and required processes and procedures.  Keeping track of it all would be daunting for any properly-staffed and resourced institution.  Unfortunately, SUNY’s not full of those.

And so I began a letter to my chain of command at work, from my supervisor to the top, in which i requested two things: 1) I said I was no longer interested in being anyone’s CIO.  2) I wanted a 20% reduction in hours and pay–I wanted to work 4 days a week.  Both requests were granted and I began my transition early this year.  A conversation with the president of the campus for which I had been serving as CIO revealed that, for reasons having nothing to do with me or my performance, he was reconsidering the CIO as a Service option.  I explained my desire and my decision, which had nothing to do with him or his campus.  And so we parted ways amicably, and I still am part of the team that provides I.T. services to his campus and so was able to transition away from the administrative duties easily and move to a more technical role.

And I now work 4 days a week.  The hit to our budget has been more than manageable.  I am still getting used to having every Friday off.  I’ve described this to others as “easing into retirement.”  I can’t say how much longer I want to “work” before I completely leave the SUNY system.  December of 2026 will be the end of my 30th year as a full-time SUNY employee.  That’s something to think about!  As I said to my bosses: I realize I have far fewer days ahead of me than are behind me.  I’d rather spend more of them spending my money than making it!

So what does that have to do with the title of this post?  Well, I am not a “quiet quitter.”  I have not decided that I’m “done” but still need my job and so will only do the bare minimum.  That’s not who I am.  I am instead “climbing down the ladder.”  I am working with my employer to shift my duties to things I enjoy and will cause me less stress.  (Or, as they call it, finding my “happy place” at work.)  They have been very supportive of this.  But ultimately, I am doing this for me.  I want to be more present in my own Life, not just for my own sake, but for those I love, especially my wife.  Being constantly preoccupied with aspects of my career was making that impossible and was not great for my mental health.  I’ll always obsess over certain things–that’s just who I am and how my brain is wired.  But I’ve taken steps to excise a large chunk of those things, and I do not regret it.

Life is too short to just work, pay bills, and die.

Why I’m Not Going To My 25th High School Reunion

My 25th High School Reunion is next week, and I’m not going.

It would not be at all inconvenient for me to do so.  In fact, I’ll probably be in the neighborhood!  I simply have no desire.  None.  I’ve been thinking a lot about why, and I just saw a post on Facebook that sums it up very nicely for me.  It said, "If someone wants to be a part of your life, they’ll make an effort to be a part of it."

I think I can count on one hand–maybe two–the number of people from High School who have made an effort to be a part of my Life.  But you know what?  The reverse is also true.  I haven’t made much–if any–effort to be a part of anyone else’s either!  So what does that say?  To me, it says that I and the people with whom I attended High School have nothing in common except for the fact that we all went to High School together.  Why is that any reason to get together?  For me, it’s not.  I went to my 10th reunion.  When my wife (Jeannie) and I sat down at the table we chose when entering the room, the people who were sitting there moved to another one.  How very Lunch Room of them.  If there was anyone there I was actually curious about, I don’t remember it now.  All I remember is being ostracized and preached at by someone who had found religion and seemed bent on making sure my wife and I did too.  It is not an event on which I look back with fondness.  But none of that is a reason not to go now, 15 years later.  People change.  People grow.  The question I ask myself is, do I care?

I have done what I consider to be well for myself and for my family.  I am happy, and I work and spend time with people I consider my friends.  And people who like and respect me make an effort to be a part of my life.  I simply don’t care about anyone else or what they think.  When I mentioned all of this to my sister, she said, "maybe they don’t know how to get ahold of you," to which I replied, "Bullshit. My name is ‘Romeyn Prescott’! Type it into Google."  Go on, do it!  Type "Romeyn Prescott" with quotes into Google.  Your first 4 hits will likely be my personal "signature" site, followed by links to my profile on at least 3 major social networking sites.  And in the top 10 will be a white pages link informing you that there is ONE person named Romeyn Prescott in the U.S.!  Anyone claiming they don’t know how to get ahold of me clearly hasn’t tried. 

Not that they should!  I don’t write this out of self-pity.  I’m not sitting here in Potsdam wondering where everyone went or what they’re doing or why no one ever calls or e-mails.  The ones about which I do care are the ones about which I already know.  Will I look back on this decision with regret one day?  Perhaps.  But I’m a big boy now; I can handle it.  If someone wants to be a part of your life, they’ll make an effort to be a part of it.  I think that effort needs to be a little more substantial than showing up once every 15 years.

I’ll keep an open mind, however.  Maybe I’ll go to the 40th.  Who knows?
 

Swing Set Demolition

Every kid should have a swing set.  Or, at the very least, access to a swing set.  When we were kids, my sister and I had a swing set.  It was your standard 2-swing model with a slide and that see-saw/glider thing.  When we were small, having the legs/poles of the set jammed into the dirt was good enough.  We could swing as far as we liked, jump off at the apex–which had to have been 20 feet in the air, right?–and come down onto the grass, the pile of leaves we had prepared, or the friend or sibling who didn’t get out of the way in time.  As we got bigger, we had to be careful.  Swinging back too far pulled the poles out of the ground! 

Good times.

But, to paraphrase Peter, Paul, & Mary, "giant [swings] make way for other toys."  We used the swing set less and less.  It slowly rusted; and then, one day, it was gone.  I remember the pang I felt in my stomach that day.  There was a flash of brilliant indignation: "How could they take it down without at least asking me?"  Perhaps more than anything else, that swing set symbolized my childhood.  And now it was gone.  That flash quickly faded as I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I actually used it.  And the yard looked so much better without it.  It would certainly be easier to mow that spot now!  Minutes later I didn’t really miss it at all. 

This past weekend I demolished our family swing set.  Fourteen years old and made of wood, it clearly had seen better days.  I had hopes of merely dismantling it and giving it away on freecycle.org.  But as I approached, toolbox in hand, I realized that giving it away would be irresponsible.  It was rotting.  It was unsafe.  I preserved the swings, their mounting hardware, and the slide and gave those away.  The wood has been cut up and left by the side of the road for anyone to take away.  That spot in the yard is now easier to mow.

I had contemplated doing this for over a year.  My reasons were practical.  I can’t remember the last time it was used. Indeed, I think Amanda and one of her friends were the last people to use it!  I expected to feel relieved.  I did not expect to feel loss.  That same feeling I had as a kid came back, with a twist.  It wasn’t just my childhood I was missing this time, it was my kids’.  When I picked Brady up at his Mom’s and he asked what I did this weekend, I told him about the swing set.  His response was a remorseful, "Awwww…" 

And then it was gone. 

I know exactly what he felt.