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Spotlight: IDENTITIES by T.E. Stazyk

22 May

May 22, 2013

TE SPOTLIGHT

Some time ago, I came to grips with the realization that I am a writer, not an author. There is nothing wrong with being a writer, and during the time I’ve been doing Mr. Blog’s Tepid Ride I’ve made the acquaintance of many fine and successful writers, many of whom I admire greatly. But authors? I’ve met far fewer, and generally less successful. The jump from writer to author (and in fact the jump before that, from writer to Writer- writers know what I mean) is somewhere in the neighborhood of Evel Knievel-level difficulty.

Enter T.E. Stazyk. Author.

You may recognize his name from the comments he is gracious enough to occasionally post here from time to time. But you may not know (you would if you read his blog) that he lives in New Zealand, where he owns a farm, and before that lived in Japan, and originally hails from The United States.

But why listen to me?

I have always been interested in books and literature and writing and in fact, I started off as an English major in college as I wanted to teach English literature. But it wasn’t long before I realized that getting a job after college wouldn’t be too easy and that something a little more practical would be a good idea. 

My father was an accountant and computer science was becoming big, so I switched courses and became and accounting and computer science major. On graduating I started working with an accounting firm but the idea of writing was always in the back of my mind. 

After almost 30 years in the auditing profession, I decided it was time to do something else and to do something about my writing ambitions so I took early retirement.  We were living in Japan at that time and as my wife is from New Zealand we decided to move to NZ.

In 2001 we moved to Auckland and I enrolled at the University of Auckland. I did a Masters degree in English Literature and then continued my studies with additional courses in Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Polish and Russian literature.

I had a short story published in 2002 and over the years have written several stories and two other (as yet unpublished) novels. 

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I think that is a story right there, but what he wrote was a work of fiction, albeit one that seems all too real.

Identities.

It makes for a great B-grade science fiction movie.  A giant, nameless, faceless organism comes to Earth and begins to multiply.  Nothing can stop its inexorable growth and prevent it from achieving its goal of world domination.  Not only that, its job is made a lot easier because of some sort of mind control mechanism that makes people want to feed its growth and help it take over.

In the hands of a writer like me, the plot would be exactly that, a B-grade sci-fi tale that would appeal to me and a couple of others. But in the hands of an author like T. E. Stazyk it is something more.

Actually, it’s not science fiction.  It is a simplified description of the mechanism of global capitalism since the 1980s.

Growth became the measure of success.  It became the end rather than the means.  It didn’t matter if a company sold a lousy product; or an unsafe one, or destroyed valuable resources or exploited local populations in making its products.  As long as it did more of whatever it was doing it was considered good.

Whether from the expectation that they have to behave a certain way in order to succeed, or whether they have to behave as if they have succeeded, the world became populated by people who have created an identity that they want to present to the outside world.

But a lot of other people got in trouble.  Usually the innocent bystanders who had pensions and 401(k)s and things like that which got wiped out when the stock market realized what was going on.

Interested? Sound good? I hope so, but don’t let me sway you, let Kirkus Reviews do it for me.

IDENTITIES

By T.E. Stazyk (Author)

A management consultant jousts with the loonier aspects of American capitalism in Stazyk’s canny debut satire of the corporate world.

After Dave Locke is booted from the presidency of a technology corporation following a merger, he’s relieved to land a partnership at tony Quantum Consulting. Unfortunately, this avowed bastion of best business practices turns out to be filled with nincompoops. The partners are obsessed with status and extreme-sports exploits; the management committee signs off on Dave’s plans if he sprinkles them with the buzz phrase “world-class”; and clients are given the hard sell on outsourcing and layoffs, no matter what the long-term costs. (Alas, their clients are only too happy to pillage their own firms; one CEO wants to relocate his conglomerate to Panama for tax purposes.) As a deep recession takes hold, Dave picks his way through a minefield of office politics and callous management theories. Meanwhile, his sons—Alex, a would-be actor who doesn’t want to be defined by his career, and Jim, a workaholic investment banker—debate the spiritual pitfalls of capitalism. Stazyk’s cutting, funny tale furnishes plenty of Dilbertesque office gags and colorful characters, including an Indian swami who turns his spiritual aura into a publicly traded corporation. The novel’s greatest creation may be Jim’s girlfriend, Jennifer, a frenzied Wall Streeter whose fussbudget consumerism reflects her hollow soul. Stazyk has written a novel that treats business as an important and absorbing subject; the author knows the terrain well and his naturalistic prose and dialogue has a nuanced subtlety that rings true. When Dave deploys his infighting skills against boardroom boobs and tyrants, his conviction that business can be both profitable and ethical starts to seem like a believable bottom line.

An entertaining, covertly insightful satire.

Pub Date: Oct. 17th, 2012

ISBN: 978-1468146851

Page count: 366pp

Read the first chapter here

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My Trip to Delaware, Part One: Penn Station

14 May

May 14, 2013

I was going on a very inconvenient two day business trip to Delaware. The Company I Am employed by was sending my team to Wilmington for two days of, well, honestly nothing much. I’ll get to the point of the trip later, if I can find it. The thing to recall is that the meeting was scheduled across Tuesday and Wednesday. No the beginning of the week, not the end of the week, stuck right in the middle.

We were all going by Amtrak and were meeting in Penn Station. For me, living in Brooklyn, this was not big deal. My luggage consisted of only what I could carry in my backpack. I made sure to bring a book to read- The Exorcist- and a journal to write in. And it was a good thing I brought the journal because there was a lot to take note of, starting with Penn Station.

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Penn Station is one of the major transportation hubs in the City, located right under Madison Square Garden. (MSG bills itself as The World’s Most Famous Arena and they are right.)This is either a stroke of genius or a stroke of lunacy, placing the busiest railroad center under the busiest sports arena in one of the busiest sections of midtown. I have to think that this was planned for the ease of Al-Qaeda. There, you get a unique mix of businessmen and women, Knicks and Rangers fans, the homeless, tourists, and, I assume and hope, more NYPD surveillance cameras than even Michael Bloomberg can count.

To get to Penn Station you descend a large escalator located right under the Madison Square Arena sign and you better be paying attention because the number one hobby of folks on their way down is drinking coffee and shoving.

As you get to the bottom you arrive at a large circular mall. One side is lined with newsstands, seedy coffee shops, and dirty snack bars. The other side is lined with newsstands, seedy coffee shops, and dirty snack bars. Only the companies change. Even the homeless look identical. In the center of the circle, forcing you to go around, is a ticket window. The tracks are on the other side of the circle. This section of Penn Station is currently under renovation and has been my entire adult life. The estimated date of completion is ∞. However, since this New York, we know that the real date of completion will be about 10 years later.

I was lucky enough to be there on a holiday, the Annual Clearing of the Hobos. The men’s room entrance was flanked by what appeared to be an honor guard- two rows on either side of the door of uniformed policemen, backed at a discreet distance by heavily armed soldiers (seriously, yes. Penn Station was and still is full of heavily armed soldiers.) Down the center of the parade route were “escorted” an endless stream of filthy homeless sorry, I can’t be politically correct on this, they were too disgusting to be simply homeless. One man was clad only in a garbage bag wrapped around his waist. This was already in full swing when I arrived and went on for another 10 minutes.

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However, the police did nothing to the rest of the homeless loitering around or laying down in the station. I was waiting with most of the other travelers near the arrivals and departures sign waiting for my team. I have to give the Penn Station maintenance staff credit for trying to keep the place clean. Unfortunately it was a losing battle.  For example, a business man would drop a newspaper into the garbage can. Problem was, the garbage cans were designed to be very wide to hold a lot of trash but they had very small openings. I saw this happen a few times. The business man would drop his paper into the can, but it would actually either get stuck in the small opening or just sit on the outside of the can. The homeless people each had what seemed like their own designated can. In other words, any trash in or around the can was theirs and when I once saw a homeless woman get too close to another homeless woman’s can the “owner” of the can hissed at her until the interloper moved on.

So a newspaper would land on the outside of the can and a homeless person would immediately swoop in from their position just a few feet away and grab the paper. But at the same time, a Penn Station employee would try to get to the can first to stuff the paper deep inside. I feel sorry for those guys because not only is it their job to outrace homeless guys for garbage but they also have to wear little red bowties with their uniforms.

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New York Magazine called Penn Station the Community Center for the Mole People and I think they got it right.

Overall Penn Station was dingy. Superficially it resembles an airport terminal with shops and waiting areas, but airport terminals don’t have a layer of grime or roving packs of trash-stealing homeless. To be fair, the homeless were not a problem for me, in that they did not harass me or anyone else as far as I could see. The huge numbers of police and soldiers might have had something to do with that.

Al this time I was waiting for the other three members of my team to arrive, including my direct supervisor. I met up with her first. She then confirmed that the third member of the team was in the station, somewhere on line behind us. We were not able to confirm if the fourth person was even in the building when our train was called and we went to the tracks.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

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