You never really see it coming. You have a feeling, but you brush it aside – you’re too comfortable in the current circumstances. Those closed-door meetings, the feeling that your colleague is trying to tell you something as you stay after work and watch the debates together. But you chalk it up to other things – your head is too busy, filled with all the work that you have to do, enough that you could stay until midnight working every night and still not get it all done. You bask in the comfort that you are needed.
You’re in the middle of wrapping up a big project, feeling optimistic that all those months of hard work, frustration, and moments of drudgery are finally coming to an end. It will culminate in a fat pile of papers, all neatly organized and topped with a cover sheet explaining how all the pieces of that particular puzzle fit together, and you will feel chuffed at your accomplishment and finally freed from the burdens of it.
But your morning reverie is interrupted by the intercom, asking you to come into your boss’s office. “For fuck’s sake, what have I done now?” you think to yourself, remembering the time a few weeks ago when they blew a typo up into a federal case. You’ve just gotten over the feeling that they ignore all your accomplishments while magnifying the little nit-picky things that don’t really make a difference in the quality of your work, but are made to appear that they do.
The mood in the room is dark. Your boss, who always makes jokes during staff meetings, is nervous and serious. So are the Executive Director and your supervisor who also happens to be your friend. In fact, you have become close to all the people in this small company – but suddenly this feels different. You know what he’s going to say before he even says it – you feel the whoosh of the axe before he even swings, because the decision has already been made: There are going to be layoffs, and you are the first one. There are six other people getting the boot that day, names tba.
You’re so shocked that you don’t really know how to react – you’re being dumped, kicked out of the family. Nevermind that you’ve been there for six years, that more often than not you’ve worked far into the evening when most people are home with their families or out to dinner or otherwise spending their time as their own. They reassure you that it’s not performance related, and yet you begin to wonder about all the little things that you could’ve done differently – perhaps it wasn’t a concious decision on their part, but there are so many ways to fuck up and not even know it.
“So,” you think to yourself, “this is what the economic downturn looks like.” You kick yourself for being so smug, for being so foolish as to think that this crisis wouldn’t affect you, at least not immediately. You even say this out loud after your boss has explained that the recent turn of events has hit your industry hard and fast. You’re not sure whether to believe him, but the Executive Director drives it home by telling you that the immediate issue was that they weren’t able to make payroll that month, and that they had to borrow from the boss’s personal bank account to come up with the money. They are apologetic, even embarrassed that it has come to this. They admit that in many ways they have failed you and the other employees, that we’re all one big family and they tried as best they could to avoid things coming to this end. They promise that if and when they get in a better financial place, that you could well be re-hired as a freelancer. You nod your head but don’t believe them.
You wander back to your office, stunned. Your colleague-deskmate-friend looks up at you as you plop into your chair. Your eyes must be wide, your face pale. You want to avoid telling her, but you can’t. As the words leave your mouth, you realize that you’re going and she’s staying. She cries and hugs you, and you’re simultaneously sad for yourself and worried for her, knowing that her already impossible workload is going to be doubled immediately. You feel unfinished. You try to push away your anger that this person who is now your friend and colleague but was once your intern, whom you trained, has taken your job. You trained her so well that now she has become a viable replacement for you. You don’t say this, but you know that you’re both thinking it. She says that it’s going to be no fun there without you, and it’s a small comfort knowing that she’s right.
You wander around the building – people are clustering in small groups, huddled and whispering, crying, hugging. It’s like the last day of summer camp without the comfort of knowing where you’ll be going next. Somehow through all of this you feel closer to everyone there, as if an earthquake has shaken you all equally and you have to pull each other out of the rubble. But you know that you are on your own.
Several people comment that you have such a great attitude, and you wonder yourself why you’re not more angry or sad about the situation. Of course you are sad, and scared, and wounded. But there is a part of you that thrives on change, even if it’s change that comes from crisis. You’ve been thinking that you’ve needed a change for a while – the company, while small and family-like, has also become much more corporate than you’re comfortable with. You have felt unappreciated at times and frustrated by the increase in paperwork and the decrease in creativity. But you’ve been too afraid to take the leap, and without this sort of drastic change, you know that you might have stayed in this job for another six years, growing increasingly invisible and bitter.
Now, you have a reason to leave and still get support from the people you’ve left behind. Your supervisor has promised to help you revise your resume and find freelance work, and you embrace the offer without disdain.
You know that you should feel more angry that you’ve been left in the cold, but mainly you feel that you haven’t been handed something that you can’t handle. You’ve been through this before, so while the fear that you’ll slip back into that aimless place lurks in the corners, you know that last time you were much younger, without the skills and knowledge that you have now. While it surprisingly doesn’t feel good to get up in the morning without a place to go (okay, maybe it is nice to be able to sleep in), you know that in time you will make that place for yourself, and it will be to your own specifications.
Aw gee, I’m sorry to hear it. (And scared — I have already been reproaching myself for “so foolish as to think that this crisis wouldn’t affect” me, when it hasn’t yet.) Hope you are able to find a new situation alright.
You will land on your feet and be off to something new and exciting soon enough. Thank you for sharing your experience. Try to enjoy the adventure of it all. Years from now, the stories that come out of this experience, will be worth more to you than the creature comforts that go along with gainful employment.
“You know that you should feel more angry that you’ve been left in the cold, but mainly you feel that you haven’t been handed something that you can’t handle.”
LHD, you will emerge from this better, faster, stronger than before. Of this I am convinced. They don’t know what they’re losing over there. xoxoxoxoxo
Wow, this is so harrowing. Why’d you have to narrate this in the 2nd person? Now I keep wondering, is it possible? How would it happen? Yikes. Sorry to hear it, LHD.
Literacy, this is some of your best work: very effective imagery, especially.
I know you’ll land on your feet, and be off and running in no time. You know we’re all here to support you!
You try to push away your anger that this person who is now your friend and colleague but was once your intern, whom you trained, has taken your job. You trained her so well that now she has become a viable replacement for you.
This is one of the worst parts of all. It just feels so unfair.
But there is a part of you that thrives on change, even if it’s change that comes from crisis. You’ve been thinking that you’ve needed a change for a while –
And this is the best part. I know it’s a cliche, but there’s something exciting in all that possibility.
I wish you didn’t have to write it, but this is one of the best things you’ve written.
Glad to see you have your head together, LHD. I commiserate with you, but know you’ll come out on top.
this is the fourth layoff i have heard in the past day. i’m sorry LHD.
Thank you all for your kind words. I really am excited about the possibilities out there, so thanks for all your encouragements as well.
This news that this post is based on is heart-breaking, but your perspective on it is inspiring. Good luck. (And yes, I agree with other responders, that your writing, here, is great).
Literacy, that sounds so rough. It’s interesting how strong our emotional ties to work are. Best of luck to you.
I am sorry, I hope it works out