juggling

I have entirely too much shit to do lately.
   
     The thing that I like the least about the auto parts supply business is that it never ends. As long as people are driving cars, those cars will wear down and eventually need to have some pieces of them replaced. This should seem like a good thing, since it means job security for me, but some days (of which today happened to be one) it seems like a bottomless pit. That combined with the fact that cars are constantly being re-designed means that we are perpetually updating inventory.
     I don't mind all the inventory duties. In fact, I actually kind of like it. I think it really appeals to my puzzle solving nature. The problem with it is that I simply can't focus on it to the point where I can really accomplish anything. I start checking in parts and the phone rings, or a big online order comes in, or a retail customer with an agenda and a shopping list needs help finding obscure parts for an '83 Ford one-ton dump truck that has suffered through three decades of half-assed mechanics, mismatched parts, and an owner who doesn't know an oil filter from a hole in the ground.
     Some days I feel like one of those plate spinners you see at the circus, or bad late night TV shows. Just when I get everything spinning smoothly, something starts to wobble. While I'm fixing the wobble, the plate at the other end slows down. I spend all day running back and forth and sometimes I just barely manage to keep it all spinning.

                                  This is my job, minus the applause of course.


      Actually, it's more like plate spinning combined with juggling combined with babysitting, but I couldn't find a video on YouTube for that. I'm not even kidding about the babysitting. That's a big part of what I do. Somehow I am the mature, responsible one out of all the people that work at my store, even though I am the youngest.
     Some of my guys are literally twice my age and I am somehow in charge of them. It's a very strange feeling to be giving instructions to someone who is old enough to be your parent. I almost feel like I'm being disrespectful. When we got our first snowstorm a few months back, one of my drivers who shall remain nameless wasn't taking the road conditions into account and wrecked his van. I subsequently gathered everyone together and had a team meeting (corporate speak for "I yelled at everyone"). Almost all of my drivers have been driving since before I was born, yet they sat there and listened to me speechify on vehicular safety in winter. At one point, I almost broke into laughter as I remembered myself as a sixteen year old, taking my dad's old Cadillac into an empty, snow filled parking lot and spinning donuts until the gas tank was almost empty.
     I had a conference call today during which I had to account for a slight drop in sales for this month compared to last. I was somewhat caught off my guard when it was my turn to talk, but I managed (on the spur of the moment) to sufficiently talk my boss and my boss's boss right out of their shoes. I don't even remember what I said. I just started rambling about sales, returns, customers, percentages, and random numbers until they were impressed enough to tell me to keep up the good work. 
     Sometimes I think about that shy, quiet kid I used to be back in high school. The one who always sat in the back of every class with his head down, waiting for each class...day...semester to be over. Sometimes I wonder how in the hell that kid ever got to the point where he's overseeing six people and thousands of dollars worth of transactions every day. Somewhere between then and now, and despite my best efforts to the contrary, I think I may have grown up.
     Then I remember that I've been at it for nearly ten years, and I can't help but think of those plate spinners and how many hours...days...years of practice they have put into a three minute routine. I get the feeling that they don't really know how they got there, either. Shit, who wants to grow up and spin plates for a living?
     I think the best part about growing up is that nobody knows what's around the next corner. We just find something that we're sort of good at, and give it hell until someone pays us for it. I never knew what I wanted to be when I "grew up", but I knew it would involve cars in some form. Now here I am supplying replacement parts for a large percentage of auto repair shops in the area. With the importance of the automobile in today's world, that feels like a pretty big responsibility. It's terrifying to the kid I used to be, and a delicious challenge to the adult I have reluctantly become.
      It might not be the most glamorous job ever, but I take pride in what I do. It's long hours, lots of resistance and many a complication, but I haven't lost a plate yet.