“…resulting in the elimination of your position…” These words, echoing in my head, cutting through the fog of confusion and what-the-fuckery. “…the difficult decision to terminate your employment…”
This week I got notice of some layoffs at the company where I’ve worked for the last 13 years. More specifically, my position has been eliminated. I’m being laid off. Shock, sadness, fear – all the usual emotions one feels at times like this, yeah – check.
I’m not angry, though. I get that it’s a business decision, and I’ve been around long enough to see this a number of times. Sometimes I was even the one on the other end of the call, delivering the bad news to one of my team members. It’s no fun for anyone, but such is the nature of at-will employment. This time, I was just one of the unlucky ones.
No grudges against my company – I maintain it’s been the greatest place to work, and I believe in their vision. I chose to work there, I believe I did good work for them, and they compensated me well during my employment. I was a grateful employee during my entire run with them – I will remain grateful for the experience.
It’s funny how getting into enough emotional discomfort can create willingness in anyone. Apply enough pressure and even the laziest among us is apt to get off the couch and take a step or two in any direction. So it is with me, perhaps the world’s most undisciplined writer (and I use the word “writer” loosely). A writer writes, and yet it seems like I’ve been doing everything except writing during my absence. Don’t ask where I’ve been, I wouldn’t even know what to tell you. I barely know where to start this, so I’ll just begin with the line that popped into my head when I sat down and logged in to this old WordPress account: Grief blows the dust off a dormant blog, and fills the page with its lament.
And I am, indeed, grieving today, as I have suffered a loss. Now before you get all worried or feeling sorry, allow me to stipulate upfront that I grieve not for a lost person or animal or ideal that would be worthy of sympathy. Instead, I grieve for a vessel of memory; an inanimate object, but a loved object nonetheless.
Anyone who read this blog before my five-year descent into sloth and distraction knows the unique true crime/adventure tale/romcom story of the Bourka Bee Goddess. There were three prior blog posts dedicated to her:
The first, Death of a Deity, described how she came into my life and how I eventually killed her.
And the third, Goddess 2.0, documented her transcendence into what can only be described as “fabulosity”. Clearly, this statuary was dear to me to inspire so many words.
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
I have returned to this blog to report that she has suffered a catastrophic event, and is no more. I am writing after all these years to acknowledge and mourn her passing. I come to you today to admit to my own flawed and complacent stewardship of her being. I plead guilty of deicide.
Yeah, I know it’s been over a year since my last post. As for the reason I’ve been away… well, you could call it a calculated absence; or you could call it lost in depression; or you could call it self-prescribed recovery time from an ended relationship; or you could call it a mid-life crisis… any of these would probably be correct.
But that’s not what I want to write about today. There may come a time when I write about what’s kept me away, but today I need to write about something else.
No, this post is not about my fractured middle finger from a few posts ago, though it is healing nicely, thanks for asking.
Yesterday morning, I was driving to drop off my kids at their mom’s house on my way to work. They were subdued and barely conscious, having just woken up minutes before I herded them into the car. It was a peaceful morning, and the sun was already hot as it filtered through my dirty windshield. I came to an intersection, and stopped at the red light. I tapped on the steering wheel in time with the music on the radio, waiting for the light to change.
I was in the third of four lanes of traffic, so there were two lanes between me and the curb on the right. I had a few cars in front of me, but no cars to my right, so I had a clear view of the bus stop at the corner. I wasn’t really paying attention to anything, just waiting for the light to change, as I glanced at the people waiting on the bench for their bus.
Then I saw him. Young man, mid-twenties, sitting away from the rest of the people at the bus stop. Scowl on his face, arm extended, middle finger raised in the air. Both the scowl and the finger were directed at me.
All right, full disclosure: this wasn’t the post I’d planned.
I had planned on writing a post on an entirely different subject. It was going to be insightful, thought-provoking, perhaps a bit controversial, given the subject matter… it was going to be something you’d remember.
But this isn’t that post.
Why? Because I’m a lazy ass.
Well, two reasons: One, because I’m a lazy ass. And two, because I just got one of those “whoa” moments. Read On
So my last post was on my birthday, and I wrote about gifts and sharing good things and all sorts of warm, fuzzy stuff.
The girl at the Carl’s Jr. counter was also celebrating a birthday on July 8th. She gave me the number associated with my new age; she didn’t notice I was displaying alternative burger chain loyalty in my choice of hats…