The Eleventh Hour Reprieve....Literally

Thursday, 16 hours to go

I decide I'm not going to be in the office much today. I need to clear off my computer, you know, all those pesky vacation pictures, letters to creditors and blog docs. At some point I have to meet with my new boss. Since we haven't even been introduced, this makes me a little apprehensive as I wonder, can she still change her mind? As usual, my mind begins to wander and it occurs to me that my new manager is choosing employees not unlike a fantasy football team. After all, she picked me by perusing only the stats on my resume. Will she want to trade me? There's a lot of laid off QB's out there. Then I was reminded of that play Steambath, where people just start start coming out of the steam, uninvited and they're really dead. What if her office is like that? I'm probably over thinking it...

I drive over to my new office and meet with my new manager. - Ooh! In addition to having access to the best parking lot on the planet, I also have a remote that opens the security gate arm. Sweet! - We meet, we greet and she says, "Tell me what your passion is. I mean, if you hadn't been laid off, would you have stayed in that office and retired there?" I'm taken aback. Is she asking me this because it was a bad office (which it was), or is she trying to see if I have higher aspirations (which I don't). Everything these days seems like a trick to me. Then I had an epiphany.

Maybe, this really is a good thing. A really good thing. I wouldn't allow myself to think that anything good could come of this whole situation because my ego and self esteem were so bruised. This woman only knew that she just got the deal of the century on a good, low miles used employee. An employee who was angry enough to want something better. Not just a passive job change, this. I told her that the reason I want to stay at this level of my job is because I am very passionate about what I do and I'm good at it. This is why it hurt so much to be thrown away like so much trash. I'm beginning to see it was more like I was being recycled and the rest of my old office was put in the compactor.

She seems satisfied that I'm not going to run out the door anytime soon for the first higher paying job, and says that she can pay me full time for a while until she can figure out if she can change it permanently. The budget still sucks. I breathe a huge sigh of relief, as the enormous half paycheck burden is lifted.

The Blame Game

Thursday, 26 days to go

Here's another facet of being laid off. I have now gotten used to people being overly sympathic, secretly relieved, cutting me off in mid-sentence, and even avoiding me in the hall (it might be catching?). What I wasn't prepared for was what happens when you are forced to work your full 30 days and you are DWW (see post below about Dead Woman Walking). I guess people feel that since you are neither fish nor fowl, dead or alive, animal, vegetable or mineral you are fair game. I have been blamed for saying things when I wasn't within a country mile of the conversation.

Now, believe me, my feet are well acquainted with my mouth. However, on those rare occasions where I have over-stepped my bounds (and gotten caught) I have owned up it and sheepishly apologized. These two incidents were complete fabrications. Is it easier to blame someone who is going to be gone shortly? Does it somehow make more sense because I'm laid off? It seems to me that the perception is I have no recourse or rights, that I'm a constant reminder of the failed economy, that decisions that can ruin your life are made by others with no more of a thought process than throwing a dart at a dart board? Breathe.......

All of the above may be some of the reasons for their actions, but it doesn't make them reasonable. It would seem that there are no limits to how much humilation I must endure. Because clearly, I have no feelings, nor am I entitled to any. I am expected to I train my replacement, hand over all my passwords and codes, and generally watch all my hard work go right down the toilet...with a smile on my face because that's the "professional" thing to do.

"But everyone really likes you!"

"Wow, you did it that way?"

"Can I have your _______(chair, stapler, wireless mouse)?"

Seriously?

Where's an Eight Year Old When You Need One?

Wednesday, 27 days to go

Today I have decided to clean out my computer files and one of the things I need to tackle are my iPod files on iTunes. I'm fairly proficient with removing files to thumb drives but I'll admit, as much as I love my iPod it completely baffles me. To top it off, I am addicted to podcasts and not being able to keep up with my favorites will probably send me over the edge right now. In particular, I love the How Stuff Works podcasts and Chuck, Josh, Molly, Sarah & Katie are my own little oasis in the midst of my life crisis. And it's free! God bless Apple and Al Gore for inventing the internet...but I digress.

I try valiantly to back up my library and it doesn't work. I'm beginning to get worried. I try another method and it won't cooperate either. The only time I've had a problem with my iPod I was at the airport and I noticed a head bopping tween across the aisle with a nano like mine. I showed him my frozen screen, and clearly from the panicked look on my face and mono-syllabic grunting and pointing he could see I was in trouble. With one roll of his eyes and that dreaded "Tsk-huh" sound he pressed something and all was right with the world. He handed it back to me, all the while never removing his earbuds or making eye contact. Brat.

I begin to wonder where I could again find such an expert to perform the task at hand without being arrested for kidnapping or child endangerment. This is not the time to answer "yes" to that "have you every been convicted of a felony?" question on applications. When I get home I download iTunes on, my home laptop and without ever logging in or entering a password - miracle of miracles - there is my whole library! But how did it know? I muse that like the light in the fridge, I will just trust that it goes off when I shut the door. And I'm good with that.

There is a God, and clearly, she listens to podcasts.