Sick Transit

From Mark Kleiman:

“Private jet” has become the new “welfare queen.”

I was a loner in college. Partly this was due to my religion—I couldn’t develop close friendships with classmates, since non-Jehovah’s Witnesses were considered “bad association”—and partly to my lack of social skills, which made me a bit of a misfit even with my co-religionists. Through the lonely years in my teens when I was home-schooled, the Internet had been my primary social outlet. I participated in a couple of Usenet groups, geeky and somewhat twisted places whose members have probably moved on to 4chan, or wherever the interesting people at 4chan went when it was overrun by idiots.*

When I discovered the world of online Witness boards during my first year of college, it was a revelation. I could use the Internet—the medium that allowed me to hide my awkwardness and insecurity—to meet people whom I wasn’t religiously barred from close contact with. I left the first board I joined, because of excessive doctrinal laxity (they allowed a thread questioning the prohibition on blood transfusions); but over a year later, I found a more orthodox site; and in a few months, friends that I made there invited me to co-found our own board: The JW Zone. (Or sometimes, Z0ne.)

The Zone was many things to me. It was an experiment in incremental freedom—an attempt to loosen some of the religion’s more arbitrary restrictions on speech, thought, and behavior, without challenging the fundamental orthodoxies of the faith. It was also a chance to exercise a little bit of the power that, as a successful student of rule and doctrine, and the son of a prominent local elder, felt almost like a birthright. But above all, it was a welcoming social circle, the end of a long search for a place where I fit in.

Since we were spread all over the country, most of our interactions were online; but every few months we would gather in the hometown of one of our group, for a few days of surprisingly non-boozy college-kid (even though most were above college age) fun. As people’s flights were spread throughout the day, our parting-day ritual was going back and forth to the airport, the entire group sticking together, making a party out of whatever we did.

At one airport, I think it may have been Sacramento, we had time to kill between one trip and the next, so we wandered around the airport aimlessly. Finally, we ended up at the Meditation Room—a bland little chapel of padded chairs, blank walls, and not much else.

Luckily, no one was meditating, so the Meditation Room became our rec room. We talked and joked; we paid mock homage to each other; and someone was baptized with a Sprite bottle. Perhaps some traveler came by who wanted to use the room, and was chased away by our noise; I certainly hope not.

But although I am a quiet person, with that group I was not afraid to be loud. Probably we were obnoxious, but I didn’t worry about that. Certainly we were juvenile, but it felt okay.

Our little group changed over time, as people grew, romances happened, couples married, and hearts were broken. When I left the faith, the rules on former believers mandated a clean break. My friends also felt deceived that I had hid my apostasy for months. So the friendships ended with feelings of betrayal all around. A few folks were kind enough to at least say goodbye.

I’ve made good friends since then, and will hopefully make many more in my life. One of those friends said to me the other day that laughter and play are what make life truly beautiful. I wouldn’t quite phrase it that way—I don’t think they are sufficient conditions. But they are necessary. And so when I think of friendships past, I miss the Meditation Room.

*Or so I’ve gathered. I don’t really follow boards now, so no offense intended to any 4chan-ers out there, except for the dumbasses who hacked my wife’s DeviantArt account.

From Yglesias:

The joke part of it is that the “capitalist” way involves huge government subsidies to rich people, whereas the “socialist” way involves people who made bad business decisions suffering losses.

So my employer (Microsoft) announced layoffs this week. Not really shocking in this economy, but the first-ever company-wide layoffs in the 33-year history of MSFT.

One of the things that really struck me when I joined Microsoft three years ago was the large number of long-term employees, and the sense that one could really make a career there. Most people move between groups every few years, so it’s possible to have a very long career without stagnating.

Coming of age in the 90’s and graduating just after the end of the tech boom, I’m of a generation that sees loyalty in employment as a quaint idea: job-hopping is expected, layoffs are a part of life, and you should always be aware of your market value. Coming to Microsoft was a refreshing change–the prevailing idea was that you could commit to the company for the long term, and it would give you the opportunity for long-term growth. I knew the layoff taboo would be broken someday, I just had no idea it would be this soon. I thought it would be presaged by losses, not just a modest decrease in profits.

I still enjoy my job, and I still have the same great benefits I had on Wednesday. The possibility of not getting a raise doesn’t bother me much, given the current deflationary state of the economy. My real question is whether these lay-offs were a one-time occurrence, or signal a change in Microsoft culture. Will there be less focus on individual career growth? Will the loss of a few thousand jobs be a routine occurrence on every economic downturn? If so, it wouldn’t be a tragedy; it would just be another sign that Microsoft is growing up, and in growing up, losing the qualities that make it stand out from most other employers out there.

This has bugged me throughout the inauguration coverage. I’m glad to have an answer, even if the answer is basically “stop being such a goddamn nerd.”