I am Sears (PS....So Are You)

Well, it looks like Sears department store is well into its process of fading into obscurity.  The most recent 6+ years have been declining sales and disappearing profits.

From a high of building the worlds tallest building as its headquarters and store in (what seemed like) every zip code, to "when was the last time I was in a Sears other than because the parking is easiest at the mall".

At varying points, Sears owned and operated a stock brokerage house (Dean Witter), an insurance company (Allstate), a credit card (Discover), a real estate brokerage (Coldwell Banker) several iconic brands (Craftsman, Kenmore, and Lands' End to name just a couple) and a chain of tire stores (National Tire and Battery). 

People's feelings are all over the place:  from lamenting the "Wal-Marting" of Sears to the repurposing of the "survival of the fittest" ideology.  There is also nostalgia and I admit there is some nostalgia for me as well.  Annual trips to buy new toughskins for the coming school year to the only store in town with an escalator.  Even though the boys department was on the first floor (making the escalator unnecessary for my mother's purposes), I still managed to manufacture a meaningful reason to go upstairs at least once. 

The first time I ever saw the demon that was the microwave oven was also at Sears.  What sorcery is this! (All kidding aside, still not a big fan of microwave ovens.)

As I consider its fading away, I wonder what the attraction is to holding onto things from the past.  Why are we so invested in thinking that perpetuity is possible?  Do we need it to be to hold out hope for our own personal perpetuity? 

Let's resist the urge to let our nostalgia blur our 20/20 rear-view mirrors.  Sears was the Wal-Marter of its day, pushing smaller local business out of business.  And lest we lull ourselves into conveniently forgetting, the survival of the fittest is only temporary.  Some might say that Wal-Mart itself is in the process of being Amazoned and one day, Amazon will be replaced by something even better that I quite frankly can't really even imagine yet.  (Will we just think about a new shirt and it will show up on our torso?)

I too will be Wal-Marted by a fitter person. One who can do things better than I can.  I'm getting to the age where I'll be replaced for cheaper labor and what I make up for with skill and experience will begin to be blurred by the cost savings of a hungry 30 something with a mortgage and two kids and pockets full of student loans.  I've probably already met my own Amazon, who will one day meet his or her own whatever-comes-next.

The secret, I suppose is to plan for it.  Sort of like fastening your seatbelts.  Maybe never get in that crash, but what's the harm in getting ready?  But getting ready seems a lot like giving up and giving up seems a lot like walking away from things I care about and things I've worked for.   But on the other hand, fighting it seems a little like Ted William's kids freeze-drying their dad's head.

In the end, it seems that one day, I  - like Sears marriage to K-Mart - will find an uncomfortable balance. The question is not whether that day is coming, but what influence I can manage to have on designing a balance that provides an environment for my own contentment.