Wes Manning was the IT Operations Manager during my time in the IT department at Books-A-Million headquarters in Birmingham. Wes was a quiet, unassuming guy who, in an industry full of egos, never sought the spotlight. He was a wealth of knowledge in IBM AS/400 mini mainframes and excelled in his role as ops manager. Most critically for me, he took the time, sometimes working double shifts, to train and impart some of that knowledge to me. This was crucial because prior to arriving in that shop, I'd never worked with that platform.
The biggest project the department undertook while I was there was upgrading the AS/400 to IBM's latest model. The daunting task involved transferring the total summation of the company's digital repository to the new system. This was everything from warehouse inventory and market research to sales reports and personnel records. It was, in essence, a company brain transplant.
After months of planning, testing, and consultation with IBM engineers, D-Day arrived. Wes issued the required commands to initiate the transfer from his console, and the team settled in to monitor the process. Although we worked in shifts, I remember being on station for at least one 24 hour period.
When the system finally reported the data migration was complete we had developers and department heads validate their data. Everyone reported green across the board, and the IT team breathed a collective sigh and started high fiving each other. I noticed Wes standing by himself, hands in his pockets, and just staring at the floor. I walked over. "Hey, Wes, what's up? The party's back there. What are doing over here?" He just gave a wry smile. "Oh, I'm fine. I'm just contemplating my good fortune."
In all my years in the industry, I've never seen a smoother transition before or since. Despite major IT infrastructure surgery taking place, Books-A-Million corporate never ceased operations and all 180+ stores across the southeast carried on business as usual. In the maelstrom of activity that encompassed this project, Wes was a model of silent reverie.
JJ Grey and Mofro released Country Ghetto in 2007. One of the tracks, "The Sun Is Shining Down" has become a favorite of mine. The lyrics are deceptively simple, but Grey's introductory story behind the song gives them a much deeper meaning - "It's the little things, not expectation, that make life worth living." If you're able to mute the noise that is everyday life and spend some time in quiet contemplation, you'll likely come to the conclusion that "I'm alive and I'm feeling fine."
These days when my stress level starts to rise from high profile projects, looming deadlines, or difficult personalities, I try to emulate Wes's example. I'll go for a short walk. If it's been a particular trying day, this song will be playing as I try to refocus on the positives. Whether it's the camaraderie shared with the guys in the shop, being part of the mission of the NIH, or just the simple satisfaction of getting a difficult job done, this quiet reflection brings a smile to my face. If anyone were to ask me what's going on, I'd simply say, "Oh, I'm fine. I'm just contemplating my good fortune."
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