Here it is: Too many people hate their jobs. And all those hordes of unhappy people are dragging the economy into the doldrums. They grumble about having to go to work, they grumble while they’re there–often at other people–turning those people into grumblers, too. Even if co-workers like their jobs, they aren’t going to like brushing up against unhappiness every day, so it all becomes one big cauldron of misery. Multiply that by thousands of businesses in all the cities of the country, and you end up with an economy that reflects the malaise of its worker bees. The government can fiddle with interest rates from now until forever… but the mood of the worker bees is still going to be the determining factor.
Here is an example of what I mean. Last week, I was trying to find one of those round tables that you put together yourself–one meant to be beneath a tablecloth since it isn’t a very attractive piece of furniture. I called the closest store of a nationwide home improvement chain. (I won’t name them, but their commercials always show very cheery, helpful employees.) After spending fifteen minutes being transferred from one wrong department to another, and then being disconnected and having to call back several times, I was finally put through to the Home Decor department. A girl answered and I described what I was looking for. Dead silence
on the other end of the line.
“Hello?” I said tentatively, wondering if I’d been disconnected again.
“Hey!” she barked into the phone. “I can’t hear you, okay? It’s noisy in here! I’m trying to help you, lady, but don’t you talk to me with that attitude! I don’t have to take that!”
I should have asked for her name; I plead shellshock as my excuse for not doing so. I did, however, ask to speak to a manager. “Sure,” she snapped, and hung up on me.
I called back, got a manager, told her what had happened, and hoped that out of all the employees, she’d be able to find The Rude Girl and either reprimand her or fire her. The manager, by the way, was very nice, even telling me where I might find the table I wanted. (This is why she’s a manager and The Rude Girl will never be.) But I imagine that there is a wide ripple effect among co-workers and customers at that store, and that if I physically went there, it wouldn’t be a happy experience.
That brings me to another business where I don’t sense a lot of happy people: the airline biz. Have you flown recently? I don’t think I’m the only person who is flabbergasted whenever an airline employee is polite and helpful. A steward on the last plane I took ran into me in the aisle, stomped on my feet and then proceeded to get mad at me for getting in his way. He was the same steward who, when we were still sitting on the ground 30 minutes after we should have taken off, snapped at a passenger who had the temerity to ask what the delay was. Walk through an airport and look around; no one wants to be there, especially the employee whose shift doesn’t end for hours. Is it any wonder that the airlines are in financial trouble?
I don’t think, when Joseph Campbell talked about “following your bliss,” he meant people should be lazy and irresponsible, or that they shouldn’t seek gainful employment. I think he understood the link between happiness and prosperity. If you look at some of the most successful individuals, they like what they do. Oprah Winfrey, Bill Gates, Steven Spielberg… these are not people who grumble about going to work. In fact, I’ll bet Alan Greenspan really likes his work. Late at night, I’ll bet he’s in his study, crunching numbers and interest rates on his calculator–or maybe just in his head–he seems smart enough to bypass the calculator.
Since I haven’t been able to reach Greenspan by phone, I might try writing him and suggesting that instead of talking about interest rates and projections for the economy (which never sound good), he should instead tell everyone to get a job they like. He should remind them that happy places of business attract customers who have money and who would maybe want to spend it there. It’s a deflating feeling to hand money over to a person wearing a grumpy face. Perhaps Greenspan could suggest some sort of tariff for businesses that have more than three sourpusses on the premises.
I did finally get the makings for my table–at an unfinished furniture store where the man helping me was whistling a little tune as he walked through the store, and where he insisted on carrying the pieces out to my car, smiling all the way. It could be my imagination, but he bore a striking resemblance to Bill Gates.
