Off, that is.
Yes, my friends, just recently I became yet another statistic in this jacked-up economy of ours.--one of the almost ten percent unemployed within California's population. It was a Wednesday, I had just come back from a doctor's appointment, and while I knew in advance that some unfortunate souls would be getting their fate handed to them that day, I was naive enough to think that I wasn't one of those unfortunate souls. No, not me. I worked hard. I did alot for the company. I was smarter than so many in so many ways. I was also cute and fun to be around. You get the picture.
It already happened. I am late so I'll just get the story from my buddies later. Poor people.
Undercover Security Guy was sitting in our lobby with pages of photos of the newly unemployed in one hand, walkie-talkie in the other. His eyes followed me as I walked toward the elevator.
Wow, they're really being extra cautious that people don't come back in and go postal.
Not two seconds after I put my bags down did she come over to find me. "Can I talk to you for a minute in my office?"
Next was something about the economic climate, and the company cutting costs, and how several people were let go that morning via email (yes email) and something about how I unfortunately was one of those people.
Me? Me?????? Why me???
Something about how this was a really difficult decision and how I was definitely a valuable part of the team and if I ever need anything.
But I have a baby at home...
Something about how that just makes it all that much harder and it was a really, REALLY difficult decision and again if I ever need anything.
I even gave you people a Christmas card with my kid's picture on it.
And then something about how I was only supposed to get my purse and any "essential" things and go downstairs where HR would be talking to us about our packages and something about how I can arrange to have my things packed up later.
OK, whatever you do, do NOT let them see you cry.
The next hour or two were spent in the big conference room with all the other poor saps who were let go waiting to get our packages and walking papers. A little selfish on my part, but I was glad to see a few other people from my department already down there because after all, misery loves company, right? Alas my name was called, my ties to the company were officially broken and I was escorted out to the lobby. I kept the promise to myself not to let them see me cry, but after getting in my car, this little piggy cried wee, wee, wee...all the way home.
And then all I could think about was writing again. Because while I sat and stared for two days, suffering from a bad case of mental diarrhea, still angry and offended from the fact that I was chosen to be let go, thinking back to different happenings at the office during the last few weeks of my employment that would have pointed to me being laid off and kicking myself in the ass that I didn't pick up on it sooner, worried about the fact that we are a dual-income-dependent family with a 7 month old baby and a mortgage, and depressed by the fact that all our investments and retirement accounts are worth less than half of what they were just a few months ago, there was one word that made me feel grounded again...
Because the truth is that the job I had just lost kept me away from it. It kept me away from my husband and baby from at least 7 to 7 Monday through Friday, it kept me away from the physical dwelling of my home which was always in disarray because I was hardly in it. It kept me away from LA because I had to drive to fucking Orange County everyday. It kept me away from writing...
It feels good to be home again.
Now why not just continue writing for Daily Gluttony, you ask? It's a symbolic move on my part, I guess. The loss of my job, although scary, signals a fresh start for me in more ways than one. It's still me, but with a slightly new look and a lot less disposable income to spend for the time being on eating out. While food is still my primary passion, I think this new angle will give me a little more wiggle room to write about other things I love, because after all, eating (craving) costs money. Complaining (ranting) does not.
Thanks for reading. I'm planning on sticking around this time. I hope you do too.