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I am enjoying your book being posted one chapter a
week-almost like the old serials. Looking forward to
the next installment...     Carole H.

--- William Harshaw <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> This work is copyrighted by my business name, The
> Harfolk Press.  Conseqently, I must insist that you
> do not make any copies,
> except one for your own private use.  If for any
> reason you want more than
> one copy, send me an E-mail with the details and I
> will give your  request
> prompt and serious consideration.
>
> Bill
>
>
> MY SECOND LIFE
>
> Chapter Three: Coming Out
>
> Part Two
>
>
>  In this uncongenial environment I was incapable of
> judging how much of my
> difficulties came from the job itself, which I
> hated, and how much came from
> my Parkinson's. I felt paranoid, always looking over
> my shoulder and
> anticipating the future with apprehension, afraid of
> what the boss was going
> to do. Neighbours commented that I looked defeated
> when I left for work in
> the morning, and I felt it. Coming home in the
> evening, I looked like the
> living dead, an automaton. About the only thing that
> kept me sane was a
> regimen of exercises that I had started in 1982 to
> lose weight - I had
> stopped smoking cigarettes then too.
>  I thought that things might have been tolerable if
> this damned Parkinson's
> wasn't sapping my strength and leaving me without
> energy as the day wore on.
> I did not have the energy to fight for a job that
> would be suited to me. I
> must have presented the image of a down-trodden
> clerk in one of Kafka's
> novels.
>  In the spring of 1984, I remembered a Scotiabank
> personnel policy: if an
> employee believes he has been unfairly dealt with by
> his manager, he has the
> right to appeal an adverse performance appraisal all
> the way up to the Chief
> Executive Officer of the Bank. I was six levels from
> the top. I knew that
> although the policy was in place, managers are
> reluctant to set aside or
> modify their subordinates' decisions. No one likes
> to rock the boat.
>  I prepared my case. I based it on three points:
>
>  - the Bank had not followed through on its
> commitment to move me over to
> Corporate Banking, leaving me in Credit, a role in
> which I was fundamentally
> unsuited;
>
>  - the personality clash with my manager was
> producing a distorted picture
> of me in my P.A.; and
>
>  - Parkinson's disease was a mitigating factor as it
> was causing both
> physical and mental changes in me.
>
>  My first appeal was to the Senior Vice President in
> charge of the credit
> function and was unsuccessful, as was my second
> appeal to the Executive Vice
> President in charge of the Division, the man who
> hired me. (When I
> encountered him at a Visitor's Day at Camp Gay
> Venture, Emily's summer camp,
> he said without a crack of a smile, "I didn't think
> we paid you enough to
> send your kid here!"). I had thought that my case
> was a strong one and that
> its merits would be recognized by probably the first
> and certainly the
> second without question. I was shattered when they
> scoffed and turned me
> down. The odd thing was, the quality of my work was
> improving. I had done
> the entire credit presentations for two large and
> complex credits which went
> straight directly to the Chairman of the Bank for
> approval, bypassing the
> regular process. I was complimented on these
> reports.
>  My next step up was to Peter Godsoe, the
> Vice-Chairman of the Bank. It was
> three down and three to go. I felt sure I had a
> strong case, but I wasn't
> optimistic. He had been a supporter of Esther's in
> her School Board election
> campaigns, as had many associates at the Bank.
> However, quite rightly, he
> maintain a Great Wall of China between what went on
> inside the Bank and
> after-hours socializing.
>  After I put my case to Godsoe, he smiled and said,
> "Bill, you're not cut
> out to be one of the sea-anchors of credit, and
> Parkinson's is an extra
> burden on you. I know you have put your case
> unsuccessfully down the line.
> Those people report to me. I would have a revolution
> on my hands if they
> knew now that you won your appeal. Leave it with me.
> Wally Meinig will be my
> point man on this."
>   I was elated. It was a reprieve. Men and women
> competed to work for
> Meinig. I had known him earlier when I was at
> Molson's where he was Senior
> Vice-President in charge of Canadian regions; now at
> the Bank, he was Senior
> Vice President in charge of Administration for
> Corporate Banking.
>  Meinig, a sympathetic and realistic man, was an
> ideal mentor. His daughter
> had just finished medical school and was interning
> so he had ready access to
> expert knowledge of Parkinson's. He also had a real
> interest in what was
> happening to me. "Bill, I am shocked by the change
> in your personality. You
> have become introverted; what's become of the
> fun-loving raconteur and bon
> vivant we all liked so much?"
>  He was right, I had become introverted. There had
> been a personality change
> in me. It was not the first one. As a boy, I had not
> been outgoing and
> gregarious. My father had seen to that. The elixir
> of praise and support was
> an unknown tonic when I was growing up; the standard
> medicine doled out by
> Father was of the awful tasting patent variety
> hawked by shills as
> cure-alls - a mixture of ridicule and put downs
> mixed with alcohol. I had to
> work at being extroverted from the time I met
> Esther. It wasn't fake, but a
> gradual discovery of my own nature. By the time I
> was at Molson, it was a
> natural part of what I had to offer at work and in
> every-day life.
>  In 1978 I had been a founding member of the
> Alderbrandin de Sienne Society,
> a fine wine club that was really based on good
> fellowship. I was included
> because I was fun to be with and a good story
> teller. Now, six years later,
> I had become withdrawn. One friend told me later,
> "When I agreed to have
> lunch with you, I didn't know I'd be doing all the
> talking, and there still
> would be there were awkward gaps in the
> conversation."
>  I had to tell Meinig that my introversion was part
> Parkinson's and part
> depression as a result of my unhappiness with the
> job.
>  "Parkinson's is nothing to be ashamed of," he said.
> You didn't get it by
> doing or not doing anything. What was dumb was using
> being hungover as the
> reason for the tremor. Look at the mess that
> created. Don't worry about the
> job. You have enough to cope with getting used to
> Parkinson's."
>  Esther had been trying since my diagnosis to
> persuade me to confront
> Parkinson's, to look it squarely in the face. Wally
> Meinig said the same
> thing. "Bill, you have to start telling people who
> should know that you have
> Parkinson's. Don't do it indiscriminately, but tell
> colleagues and friends."
>  Over the next few months I took his advice. I had
> no choice. I had to face
> the reality of having Parkinson's. The Bank now
> seemed to me to be both
> Jekyll and Hyde. Meinig was trying to find the best
> place for me in the
> organization, while my manager was bound and
> determined to get me fired or
> demoted through my PA, which was very negative. So
> effectively had my
> personnel file been contaminated with innuendo, that
> it took several months
> to place me. Meinig spent countless hours getting a
> full
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