Playing Tetris - My Parents' Greatest Advice

   

  When I was a kid in the 90's I lived for game nights. My parents would have my aunts and uncles over, or their friends, and would play Rook and the Farming Game. We, kids, would sit under the table and go on massive safari adventures where we were Indiana Jones. My favorite nights were the ones where it was just my parents, myself, and my siblings. I've always preferred smaller gatherings but these nights, in the 90s, were some of the best. 

    Back then my parents had a Sega Genisis, which if you aren't familiar with you can think of as an early Xbox. When it was just me playing the system I'd be on Echo the Dolphin or Bugsy, but most of the time I'd play it with my parents. 

    My mom and dad had this tradition that stopped years ago, as more of us kids were born and they got 'grown up' jobs. They'd order pizza or make grilled cheese (on the actual grill) and we'd all stay up all night playing Sonic the Hedgehog. Mom and Dad would take turns on levels. Mom was always concerned with gathering extra lives and the Chaos Emeralds. Dad was concerned with beating the level and finding Robotinic's weaknesses. Later on, Sega came out with a spin-off game, Dr. Robotinic's Mean Bean Machine, which my mom absolutely devoured. She and my sister, Katie, would play it for hours. 

    Mean Bean Machine was pretty much a Sonic version of Tetris. My dad and I, however, preferred the original Tetris. Tetris wasn't just a game in our household. It was a concept. My family was always lower class when I was growing up and once a month we'd go on a shopping trip for groceries. If we kids were good and stayed in mom's 'duck line' we'd get a soda at the end of the trip. Then, when we came home Mom would say, "Time for Tetris" and we'd proceed to play a grocery game of Tetris with the fridge and cupboards.

    When we went on trips to see family, my dad would tell us, "It's just like Tetris. Make the luggage fit," and we would. Tetris became the backbone of how my family did - does - everything. We rearrange our lives every single day. It kind of comes with the territory of having a big family. It's honestly necessary. 

    If you have a mental health disorder you're probably either massively obsessed with games like Tetris or are terrified to play it, because it's timed. When I was little, I showed signs of anxiety (and possibly Autism) but I didn't have a full-blown disorder until I was older. In all honesty, and I don't blame my parents for this at all, I'm pretty sure my disorder formed because of growing up in poverty.

    "It's just like Tetris," became my life motto. Packing for college? Play Tetris. Moving into my first apartment? Play Tetris. Trying to juggle babysitting and work? Play Tetris. Have ten stories, websites, and personal projects to do? Play Tetris. 

    I recently read an article about the worst jobs for people with mental health disorders to have. Both sales and journalism were on that list. I shared this with a work friend at the newspaper and we laughed, and laughed, because most of the people we've met in the publishing industry have some kind of mental health disorder. Yes, it's a fast-paced environment that requires absolute flexibility, which isn't ideal for the majority of mental health disorders, but it's because of its nature that those of us with disorders are attached to it. Flexibility means everyone, from the owners to the drivers, is flexible. 

    Though I have an office in the paper building and work there 5 days a week, I'm allowed to work from home if needed. I'm allowed to take time off for family, doctor appointments, and such. All of us here are extremely open with each other about our medical and family issues and if there were ever a Tetris tournament, we'd be champions. We play Tetris every Monday and Tuesday. If you watch us it's really quite amazing. 

In total, you have 9 people actively working on the paper, plus a few others on the side. All of these individuals are in charge of different aspects. We have editors, reporters, graphic designers, proofreaders, office personnel, freelancers, stringers, correspondents (who contribute both paid and nonpaid content), drivers, printers, printer managers, etc.... And all of these people have between 5 to 2 days to get their jobs done. The printers have even less time. 

In the paper industry, our weeks start on Wednesday and our deadline for content and ads is Friday. This gives reporters and sales reps 3 days to get their stories done, with the exception of weekend events. Monday morning is press day for one paper and Tuesday is press day for the second. These two days are when all elements have been gathered into one place and the designers take them and start arranging them on an Indesign document. That document then gets printed on average 3 times, each time going through proofs by 6 people. Each draft is different as people suggest changes and the editors ask for extra pictures to be placed, content to be moved, and ads to be rearranged. 

When the editor gives their final stamp of approval, the papers are 'dropped', meaning they are uploaded to the printer. The printer then confirms the papers, which usually take between 30-60 minutes, and starts the process of printing them. 

The very next day is Wednesday again, and while the staff are in a budget meeting to begin the process all over again a driver picks up the printed papers, delivers them to the post office and paper offices, and makes 'drops' (Which in this case means delivering to places like gas stations and stores). In order to stay on track, everyone in the office is working weeks ahead, because if one person stumbles off the wheel, everyone stumbles. Luckily, the office I work in is full of caring individuals and when someone stumbles we're all there to help hoist them back up so they don't get flung off the hamster wheel. It is seriously the most intense game of Tetris that's ever been played.

Had I known when I was a kid that I'd be playing Tetris my entire life I probably would have...well, honestly, I don't think I would have done anything different. I think that all those nights of playing Sega with my parents, rearranging the fridge, and balancing our family's individual schedules prepared me to take on the job I have today. "Just play Tetris," was some of the greatest advice I've ever received because yes, my day can get chaotic and I get easily overwhelmed with my anxiety disorder, but if I take a step back and look at things like each object on my to-do list is a different block needing to be placed in a line, I can get it done. It's all about finding the correct order. It's all about being two steps ahead. You have to predict what's coming down the line so you can make accurate choices now. And, occasionally you'll screw up and put an 'L' where a 'T' belonged, and that's okay. Because one bad move doesn't mean a bad game and, likewise, one bad decision doesn't doesn't mean a bad life. 

At the end of every Tetris game, my parents would say, "Let's see if we can do better next time". We were always chasing after our high scores and I do the same in life. I'm always running after my high scores. Always trying to do better than the week before. Because you can't change the past but you can aim for the stars.