Soulparking

19 February 2005

And just like then, it was a beautiful night.  I was relaxed and reflecting over the day – and it had been good.  The first time it had been a good one in a long time.  I had finally got some recognition for the work I had been doing at the customer site and at my office.  Although as everyone says – it is always “unspoken” that they recognize what I am doing on behalf of my company.  Hell, like the words “I love you” it feels good to hear “you did a good job”.  That day everyone had told me.

I think that night in the past I had the window open and the wind was blowing into my room (I love the wind).  I was writing feverishly on a short story or poem.  I don’t remember specifically.  Even the distant sounds didn’t give away what was about to happen.

My mobile phone went over at 9:30 PM.  And it was from a co-worker who I like a lot – and I see him being the best consultant in the Western Cape. 

“Hey Gary, the office is on fire.”

“Huh?  What did you say?”

“The office!  Its on fire.”

“Are you kidding with me?”

“Listen behind me.”  And he was quiet and I heard the movement of lots of people, I heard some crashing, and the mechanical cranking of pulling out hoses and ladders.

“Okay, I will be there in about 10 minutes.”  And off I went.

It was a beautiful night in Cape Town.  The city dazzled like some Wizard of Oz emerald city.  No one was on the N2.

When I got off the exit and looked into the business complex, I really thought it was a joke.  I saw nothing that indicated that there was a fire. 

But when I pulled in and there were people standing into the drive to our building – I saw the red and yellow flashing behind the building – and then I smelled it.  That horrible smell when I was 15.

“Your dad’s store is on fire.”

“What?”  I turned around from my computer.

“The Piggly Wiggly is on fire.”

And I rushed around the room grabbing my jeans and t-shirt and out the door my mom and I flew.  That’s when the distant sirens through my window registered with me.  Those were fire trucks.  They were at the Pig.

And when we pulled up, the police had blockaded most of the parking lot and were not allowing people to get close to the blaze.  But then there was this horrible smell.  This black death mesquite I call it.  Smells like a barbeque with a twinge of death.

There was my father looking at this hard work going up in flames.  He was smoking himself.  He was shaking.  And he had this emptiness about him.  Something I had never seen before.  Maybe it was helplessness. 

And as I said in my previous ejournal about this subject, I was happy.  At 15 years old, I had lost my father to his work.  I hated his job.  I hated that I had to fight to get him to do anything with me.  So I was glad it was burning.  Although, I realized he was doing it for me.

I snuck around the back of the office building and under the parking garage – and I saw the heaps of glass and metal on the ground.  When I emerged from under the parking garage, I looked up and saw the flames leaping out.  The smoke billowing out of burned out holes that used to be windows.  It was our consultant offices that were on fire on the 3^rd fire.  Immediately this was a fire that had originated where we were.

And I had been the last consultant to leave.  But I didn’t smell anything at 7:00 PM. 

They said ADT detected movement at 7:30 after the alarms were set.  They came by, saw nothing and left.  Again, at 8:00 they detected movement.  Again, they came by, saw nothing and left.  By 8:30 – 9 PM it was a full on blaze.

In a couple of minutes, after a couple of phone calls, a small family of the office was on the ground below looking up at it burn.  And of course, I felt like I had traveled back in time when I was 15.  And instantly I was afraid, I would be accused of starting it like my father had beem.  And just like him, I had been working non-stop.  Lots of never ending weekends of work I have been doing to get this implementation in Cape Town started.  But now – everything would boil down to me being the last consultant leaving a burning building. 

Like my father, the last person to leave a burning building.  Never mind the four years he had toiled away making the grocery store a success.

The next coming days, after our office burned down, we as a small regional office got very close.  Actually we laughed it off.  Made jokes that our software is so hot that it caught the office on fire.  The customers too – they made jokes like – “I don’t like your software, but I didn’t burn your office down…” 

Although, I am always at the customer site, we did have a meeting where we all traveled to our temporary office suites until we find a permanent residence.   At these new offices, we had our future direction and “you are here” meeting.  And all of us were in good spirits.

But as usual, the week churned on.

And as usual at the customer site, it became a political debacle.  Problems, bugs, issues.  I blame you, you blame me.  Same shit different day here in South Africa.  And on Friday, we were given permission to shut things down and work on it without multiple development groups beating us up on an unfinished infrastructure.  However, during a late meeting at 9:30, we were given this plan of action that had never been tested.  No one had even seen before.  And we were told to do it and we better guarantee its success.

I just stood up from the meeting in front of management and said, “Fuck it.”  I walked off fuming.  I am tired of failing.  I am tired of being a failure  and basically to be told – “do this, and your new job title will be failure” – I answered back, “Fuck it.”

Walking away, I bumped into the guy who I respect the most here in Cape Town.  I think he was on his way out the door.  I explained with lots of cuss words and passion that I was tired of it.  “Sick of this place.” My words.  I felt like a parent trying to tell a kid – “do not touch the stove or you will burn your hand” but they get a letter from the CEO that says “I am allowed to touch the stove and burn myself”.  Okay, cool.

As usual, this guy I respect the most, calmed me down, walked me back into the meeting, and I agreed to do it under certain circumstances.  Which meant once again, another weekend we had to work non-stop. 

Every weekend we are doing the same thing.  Installing, fixing, troubleshooting.  Installing, fixing, troubleshooting.

But maybe we wouldn’t have these problems if they would let us finish first before everybody climbing on.

So the day came.  I had my full 8 hours of sleep.  I was relaxed.

I came into the office on a Saturday.  And no body was there.  But that’s cool.  I am always notoriously late.  And people are so incredibly patient with me in regards to that.  So I thought I would get ahead and start installing stuff to get them further along.

I tired.  Error: lack of rights.  They had restricted my access.  I had no permissions to install anything.  So I waited.  One of the guys came in – who is coming up to speed incredibly well.  And its kind of surreal, he seems to be a big fan of SoulParking.  He has read all of my ejournals – and talks to me about my past like he was there.  Very weird. 

So we spent a very relaxing hour or so – discussing issues.  And getting some things installed. 

Then the second guy shows up.  Who I consider a brother like people in Vietnam considered the guys on their boat brothers.  We had been through hell and back during this implementation.

Once we got underway, he started pounding me why I hadn’t started installing anything during his absence.  I explained my rights had been taken away.  Then he started poking me, “Why haven’t you started installing?  Huh?  Huh?  Why haven’t you started installing anything?”

And the fire began in me.

I was fucking sick of this shit.  I was tired of working every weekend.  I was tired of working on software they won’t let us completely install.  I was tired of being blamed its my fault.  I was tired that I had no money although I was working non-stop.  I was tired of not having a car.  I was tired of having all these promises of the future – when the present is so shitty.  I was tired of being told to do something without anyone giving me any power to do it.

I was tired of working my ass off like my father.  And losing everything that I care about in the process.  I am tired of falling someone’s else’ fucking dreams and making other people money.  Or then use me as an excuse to blame.

The fire exploded.

Whatever was around me, I grabbed it and threw it.  I wanted to kill.  I wanted to bite, scrap, and destroy.  I wanted to go to jail.  I wanted to take the damn desktops that were around me – and fucking throw them over those shitty cubicle walls.   All I saw was my huge, tall brother… I stabbed my finger back into his chest.  Over and over.  I don’t remember what I said.  I wanted to fucking throw the chair at his face. 

And then I realized what I was doing.  And I was ashamed.  Body shaking.  Trembling.

Then I heard a voice in me, “I am done.” 

I staggered away because I couldn’t stop my shaking.  I went directly to call my management and tell them I had “fucked up.”  I went to call them to tell them to replace me immediately or risk the failure of everything the Cape Town office had been doing over the last two years.  No response.  No one answered their phone.  I sent SMS’s (text messages for you in the States) saying “Someone please call me.”

Nothing.

I sat in a coffee room – in a shocked silence.  Looking down on the escalators and glass elevators of the building.

Finally, as I was typing a second SMS – I got a call from the guy I respect the most.

I told him what happened.

He sounded completely beat down himself.  Resigned to fate.  “Hold on.  I will call you back.”

So I held on.  I was too ashamed to go back to where I was.  But I didn’t want to be a loser and leave – because I didn’t want people to think I was lazy.  I didn’t want my brother and the new guy to do all the work – because we had been working non-stop for months – together as a team.

And I had just tried to beat the shit out of him.

My mobile phone chirped.  “Yes?”

“Go home.  Unwind today and tomorrow.  We will pick up the pieces on Monday.”

I shook my head.  But he didn’t see it.  And I hung up.

Before walking out the door, I went to apologize.  Not sure how it was perceived.  And then I walked out.

It was almost like the story I wrote when I was in college – “On My Greenlight”.  I had gone to a place I could never get back to again.  I was different on the inside.  Not in a good way.  But torn and destroyed on the inside.  Burned out I guess.

I am over the most beautiful place on earth.  Its not beautiful if you never see it.

I am done with hurting the people I love the most.  New and old.

Its over. 

The fire – good and bad – is over in me.

And the smoke left behind has a twinge of death.