RRN Online Volume 251

March 24 '01

Volume 251

Other Fellows A Business Perspective

I grew up hearing about the "other fellow," Adjustments Required only then my folks pronounced "fellow" with a harsh "er" sound rather than the softer "ow," making a word that would better describe the work of a lumberjack, "feller." Early in my childhood, I was admonished to pay attention to the other fellow. In those years, I never thought of the other fellow as one to be feared, rather as one who most often served as an example of good conduct or one steeped in good table manners.

It was during my driver training days that I learned the other fellow was to be carefully watched, as he was apt to do something foolish like pulling out in front of me or some other motorist, as if he were the only one on the road. In time I learned to "cuss" a few of the automotive "other fellows." Later, I learned "cussing" did them no good and only corrupted my speech, so I gave up the practice. These days, about the worst heard uttered by my lips is apt to be "stupid idiot" or "stupid @&%#" (body part or racial slur omitted). I strive for restraint, but sometimes something slips out uncensored.

For most of my financial earning years, I have been in the employ of the other fellow. There are certain advantages in one working for the other fellow, as opposed to one owning his or her business. A lack of financial headaches is one of my top choices in choosing to work for someone else. I'd rather let someone else worry with all the accounting issues, not to mention personnel problems that are inherent with small businesses. There are other advantages in not being self-employed, but the aforementioned should suffice for my point.

In choosing to work for someone else, I give up the potential to gain great wealth as an independent businessperson, but wealth has never been that important to me. Success is not guaranteed to self-employed persons, either, and these individuals may risk bankruptcy if their business falls upon hard times. Therefore, many in today's work force are like me in that they find comfort, security, and a sense of accomplishment in working for the other fellow.

Many of us have found that our success in the work place is dependent upon the success of the company or individual for whom we work. Large industries that employ tens of thousands of workers may lay off thousands of workers as needed in order to remain a profitable industry. Layoffs make the news quite regularly among those in the automotive industry, but technical companies such as IBM and AT&T make similar cutbacks in labor in order to keep stockholders happy with the company's profitability.

Supervalu, my employer, is the largest food distributor in the United States, yes bigger than Wal Mart. Supervalu earned its reputation and achieved its strong growth over the past fifty years by servicing independent retail grocers. Independent retail grocers are the ones that are not operated by a grocery chain. Top names among grocery chains would be Kroger, Albertsons, Safeway, and Wal Mart.

Independent retailers once ruled the roost in the grocery business, but chain operators have been quick to implement technology as a means to help grow their businesses. In the past couple of decades, the number of new stores built by chain organizations has skyrocketed. The end result has been that independent retailers have lost a large share of their business to the new store down the street. Forty years ago, independents held more than half the nation's grocery business, but current projections for the year 2010, show independents may control less than 10 percent of the grocery business by the end of this decade. Not only are independents concerned with these projections, but we who service independents are also alarmed.

Supervalu continues to strive to be the best and biggest of the companies owing their existence to independent retailers. I have not always agreed with the decisions my company has made, but their track record of profitability is both distinguished and unquestioned. Supervalu has taken a bold new approach in marketing. This endeavor will enable customers to purchase our products at our costs plus handling fees. The fees are item specific, so a case of water may have a higher cost of delivery than a case of coffee. This new idea is new to my distribution center, but it has proven itself effective in lowering the cost of products purchased by independent retail grocers in other regions of Supervalu around the country. It is hoped that the efforts of Supervalu and other forward-thinking grocery wholesalers will help prevent complete domination of the grocery industry by chains.

The purpose of the preceding paragraphs is not only to shed some light upon the nature of the grocery firm that employs me, but also to lay a foundation of understanding regarding the need for change in any business. Change is not always welcomed, and it is not always good, but it is certainly inevitable. For management, as well as workers, the uncertainty of the outcome of a given change often results in stress, and stress is a factor with which most of us can relate.

I have been most fortunate in being in the right place at the right time when major changes began to occur in my work. When Lewis Grocer (owned by Supervalu) began a selloff of its corporate Sunflower Food Stores, I had already become a Meat Specialist and was not affected by the sale of the Sunflower in Pontotoc to an independent retailer. When the first wave of downsizing hit our company approximately seven years ago, I was no longer a merchandising specialist, and my job was not in jeopardy. When our company adopted a regional format, I chose not to interview for the job in Atlanta but was able to secure a lesser position locally with the same company. That, incidentally, was the only time I've ever taken a lesser position and still got a hefty raise. More recently, I lost an associate in my department due to downsizing, but retained my job, principally because I was the senior employee.

While I feel good about the position I now have with Supervalu, particularly my having a job for the foreseeable future, I recognize that change could occur at any moment. Nonetheless, I expect to retire one day from Supervalu, hopefully around the age of seventy. I thoroughly enjoy my work, though I did confide in a friend upon loosing my associate, that my workload had just tripled, because now I have to do his job, his half of my job, and my job. Maybe that’s only doubled and a half, but I view it as having tripled.

Yes, I like working for the other fellow, and will continue to do so as long as there's an "other fellow" that needs me as a worker.

Serendipitous Days Discovering Five Surprises

If I were to venture a guess as to where I first heard the word, "serendipity," I would say Dr. Gordon Sansing used it in a sermon at First Baptist Church in Pontotoc in the late seventies. Don't ask me any questions about the sermon itself, but I'll bet it was built upon a Christian's perspective of serendipity.

According to the dictionary, serendipity is "The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by accident." The word, itself, has a joyful ring to the sound of it. Several things happened to me last weekend, and in rethinking the events of Saturday and Sunday, while driving back to the Delta, it occurred to me that the weekend had some unexpected surprises or discoveries, and as such might be construed as serendipitous.

Taken chronologically, the first discovery was truly accidental, and it occurred as I worked on some outside chores I had determined to complete, assuming the weekend weather agreed to cooperate. Saturday morning was not what I expected in the way of a sunshiny day as promised two days earlier by the weather prognosticators. Instead, the skies were overcast, and a brisk north wind added insult to the errant weatherman's prediction.

I really did not mind the cold, as I began to prune the several crepe myrtle shrubs near the property lines on either side our house on Dogwood Circle, for I knew there would be little likelihood I would need a sweatband to keep any salt-laden sweat out of my eyes. I was quite comfortable with only a casual shirt and pants outfit topped off with a camouflage patterned windbreaker and matching ball cap. Yet, when I decided to mow the "Circle's" meadow, I had the good sense to find a pair of gloves to keep my hands warm.

After about an hour of mowing, I remembered something I learned during my deer hunting days while sitting on a tree stand, "a man can freeze at forty-five degrees." Here, freeze is not used in the literal sense, but to represent a state of coldness. Since it takes about two and one-half hours of hard mowing for one resident to mow the meadow, I opted to grab an insulated set of coveralls, before finishing the chore. Though I discarded the windbreaker, I replaced it with a wool cardigan before donning the coveralls.

There was less than thirty minutes of mowing left, when I spotted something on the ground that first appeared to be a folded receipt. It was definitely paper, and I didn't care to shred it into confetti sized pieces with the mower, but for a moment it appeared I would do just that. The front left tire of the mower had already passed over the paper, and, when I came to a stop, one corner of the folded piece of paper was under the mower's deck, moments before I disengaged the mower blades. Reaching down to retrieve the paper object, I discovered it was a five-dollar bill, and, upon unfolding it found it to be intact, save one small inch-long tear.

I have either cut the "circle" by myself or with the help of neighbors, several times since purchasing the John Deere, last June, but I can honestly say that last Saturday was the first time I've gotten paid for it. One of my neighbors, Raymond Montgomery, whose home was nearest the find, denied it might be his money but speculated it could have been blown in during the recent tornado. I feel he may be right, so I've decided to hang on to the faded five-spot to remind me of my good fortune in discovering the money, and in being spared the wrath of the recent tornado.

My second surprise for the weekend came shortly after dinner on Saturday evening. All during the cold months of late fall and winter, I had kept the hot tub operational, maintaining a water temperature of 102 degrees. Several times, I arrived in Pontotoc on the weekend with every intention to get a water massage and soaking in the hot tub. Somehow, I always forgot about it, had no one else interested in joining me, or else felt I would "catch my death of cold" on exiting the warm water and dashing back inside the house.

Sarah and Felicia had joined us for a steak dinner and some of us were seated in the living room and some were milling about the kitchen area when Felicia asked about the hot tub. I told her it was full of water and after working outside all day I had been giving serious thought to relaxing in it. When she volunteered to join me, that was all the impetus needed. I wasn't concerned about keeping warm in the water, but I was worried I might ice up before escaping into our warm house.

The thirty minutes in the hot tub worked wonders on my muscles that were stretched as I used the lopping shears to prune and shape the crepe myrtles earlier in the day, and the act of listening to Felicia's continual chatter, sprinkled with the occasional shriek of laughter as a water-logged oak leaf found itself in contact with her foot or leg helped erase all residual thoughts of chores still undone, chores that must be tended to on the next pretty weekend.

As pleasant as the hot tub experience was, it might have been even more so, had Felicia not laughed at my hastened scurry to the backdoor of the house, claiming I reminded her of Mr. Bean, the comedic character of the BBC on loan to America through PBS. Yet, with icy swim trunks slapping my thighs with each step, the stiff-legged walking method worked best for me.

The third serendipitous event occurred just prior to the start of the morning worship experience at FBC in Pontotoc. Barbara and I had found our pew and were just getting settled after speaking to the few already assembled on our side of the church sanctuary, when Melissa Boyd, darted along side of me to ask, "Can I sit with y'all. I don't have anybody to sit with."

"I would consider it an honor," I replied.

Melissa is a year or so younger than my granddaughter Anna, so she must be around eleven or twelve. She's the daughter of Sandy Dallas Butler and Kirk Boyd. Her step dad, Tommy Butler was at home sick, and her mom and grandmother were singing in the choir. Melissa is one of the prettiest pre-teens to be found anywhere, with dark brown eyes, brown hair, a beautiful smile, and a winning personality to match.

She and her family along with two additional families and my granddaughter had just returned from spending Spring Break at Disney World. Thus, we had plenty to talk about before the service started. Melissa was a perfect little lady, and I had the feeling I was talking to an adult as I listened to her recount some the week's happenings.

I especially enjoyed her description of Devan Dallas, her granddad, and his one sentence summation of Disney World, "I wouldn't spend a dime on that place."

We laughed together, and when I asked about her grandmother, Ellouise, Melissa recounted that she had been to Disney World twice.

As far as I could tell, Melissa sang every word of every song we sang including the choruses. Musical talent runs strong on her mom's side of the family. When the service was over, I told Melissa how much I enjoyed sitting beside her and assured her we'd have a place for her, anytime she needed it.

The fourth bit of serendipity was a last minute decision to stop by the home of Dot and Jerry Bell. Barbara and I were packed and on our way out of town, when the notion struck us to drop in on Dot and Jerry. Jerry's irregular hours at the funeral home had put him down for a long nap, so we visited with Dot, who had already begun frying the chicken to be served to her family later that evening.

In typical fashion, Dot insisted on serving us a beverage (iced tea on this occasion) and large helping of conversation. The visit was brief but brought back to all concerned memories of many other Sunday afternoons we had enjoyed before the Carter's trips to Greenville became a weekly occurrence.

The fifth and final parcel of serendipity really did surprise me as I discovered it. I was unloading our belongings from our car upon our arrival in Greenville. I had made one trip and had just stepped to the rear of the car, when I heard quite a ruckus overhead. At first, the noises sounded like a couple of squirrels in the pecan tree, but the sound seemed to be directly above me, and I was not under the tree.

Cupping my hands like blinders on either side of my eyes, shielding my eyes from the floodlights lighting our driveway, I managed to spot two large birds circling in the darkness overhead. I mistakenly identified them as hawks, before reconsidering and determining them to be a pair of owls. Beyond believing them to be owls, I cannot say if they were a mating pair or a couple of males involved in a territorial dispute. It's sometimes difficult to tell the difference between lovers and quarrelers, especially at night. However, for the next couple of minutes, they put on an exciting aerial show circling and shrieking right over our house.

Traveling about the Delta, I get to see a lot of hawks, but, in not being a night owl, I don't see many owls.

Bodock Beau Twenty-One Gun Salute

If I had more space, I'd fuss about the editor's embellished wordiness, for he's left me practically no room for a column…dang it!

The following, submitted by Bing Crausby, speaks to America's military readiness.

I sat, as did millions of other Americans, and watched as our government underwent a peaceful transition of power.

I was proud as Mr. Bush took his oath of office.

I was sad as I watched Mr. Clinton board Air Force One for the final time.

It may surprise you that this made me sad, but watching this part of the day's festivities, I saw 21 U.S. Marines, in full dress, with rifles, fire a 21-gun salute to the outgoing president.

It was then that I realized how far America's military had deteriorated.

Every last one of them missed. J

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