Sometimes you find yourself at work, and you're having a particularly bad day. Your boss may be taking out some personal issue on you. You might be having some back-stabbing co-worker trying to come after your position. Maybe some slanderous office gossip. Or maybe just that all too familiar feeling of your life and soul wasting away as you stare blankly at an Excel spreadsheet on your screen. Whatever it is,we all have that "when I leave this place" fantasy in our head. You know,that day when you finally walk around the office,tell your boss EXACTLY what's been on your mind the past few years. Perhaps give a few co-workers the finger. Or a few notes on personal hygenie or whatever you've been DYING to say.
My "last day" fantasy went a little bit like this:
Me walking around the office. Two Middle Fingers in the air. Doing the whole "you're cool, you're cool,you're cool, fuck you I'm out." from Half Baked.
Then I would pack up my things in a whirlwind. Maybe take out the copier like in Office Space. Say a few choice words to my boss. And walk out the front door like a fireball.
But see, that's why those are movies.
In real life that day finally came for me. After 15 years--HALF MY LIFE of working. The day came where I got that quiet ass call at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon.
I sat down in Human Resources. And they shut the door behind me. And my mind kinda blanked. All I heard were words like "cut-back" and "budget". But it wasn't making sense. In my mind all I could see was the outfit I wore on the first day. 4 years ago. Walking into that place so full of hope and promise for a new start. I thought about all the hours of coming in early, leaving late and working Saturdays and Holidays. All the missed soccer games my daughter had. All the stress. All the tears. All because this was my "career". I was sacrificing my life for my career. Because thats what people do. Thats America. That was my proud claim to life. To have a wonderful job.
And then, I didnt have a job.
I walked back upstairs, threw some shit in my bag, and walked out. Not a word to anyone.
I got into my car and about 3 blocks away before the tears started.
I cried for obvious reasons. Worried about money. My daugther. My rent. My car. All the material things I've become so attached to.
I cried for myself. 5 days after my 30th birthday and I had no job. Did I ever think I'd be at that point in life? No savings. No...nothing.
And I cried because I felt like I lost a part of my identity. And now I have to start a new one. And I was scared.
I got a bottle of Bacardi immediately. Wrote some tongue-in-cheek ass Facebook update, and drank until I fell asleep.
Everyone tells me about "new beginnings" and "something better" etc etc etc. And I believe them. I do. But right now? Right now? Lawd. I feel like I got hit with a Mac Truck.
My "last day" fantasy went a little bit like this:
Me walking around the office. Two Middle Fingers in the air. Doing the whole "you're cool, you're cool,you're cool, fuck you I'm out." from Half Baked.
Then I would pack up my things in a whirlwind. Maybe take out the copier like in Office Space. Say a few choice words to my boss. And walk out the front door like a fireball.
But see, that's why those are movies.
In real life that day finally came for me. After 15 years--HALF MY LIFE of working. The day came where I got that quiet ass call at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon.
I sat down in Human Resources. And they shut the door behind me. And my mind kinda blanked. All I heard were words like "cut-back" and "budget". But it wasn't making sense. In my mind all I could see was the outfit I wore on the first day. 4 years ago. Walking into that place so full of hope and promise for a new start. I thought about all the hours of coming in early, leaving late and working Saturdays and Holidays. All the missed soccer games my daughter had. All the stress. All the tears. All because this was my "career". I was sacrificing my life for my career. Because thats what people do. Thats America. That was my proud claim to life. To have a wonderful job.
And then, I didnt have a job.
I walked back upstairs, threw some shit in my bag, and walked out. Not a word to anyone.
I got into my car and about 3 blocks away before the tears started.
I cried for obvious reasons. Worried about money. My daugther. My rent. My car. All the material things I've become so attached to.
I cried for myself. 5 days after my 30th birthday and I had no job. Did I ever think I'd be at that point in life? No savings. No...nothing.
And I cried because I felt like I lost a part of my identity. And now I have to start a new one. And I was scared.
I got a bottle of Bacardi immediately. Wrote some tongue-in-cheek ass Facebook update, and drank until I fell asleep.
Everyone tells me about "new beginnings" and "something better" etc etc etc. And I believe them. I do. But right now? Right now? Lawd. I feel like I got hit with a Mac Truck.
How can you take such a touchy and such a well known US subject as job-loss and make me laugh? Well...you did. You found something that is personal to me at this time and turned it around and made me even laugh at myself.
ReplyDeleteD.Kristine