So I phoned Arnie from the office this morning about 10:30. He’s at home cuz he was looking for a new job.
“Guess what?” I asked.
“Well, what could POSSIBLY happen right about now?”
He paused and took a deep breath.
“You didn’t get fired, did you?” he groaned.
At which point I started laughing like a hyena into the front desk phone.
“Yep, so come & get me. I’ll be waiting outside…”
They call it “restructuring”, which I suspect is a fancy (and legal) way of saying “the young freelancer we just hired to ‘help you out’ is actually cheaper than a middle aged full timer with generous benefits like you.”
I’ve sensed something was “off” at the office for a while now. Maybe they just got sick of me complaining about the 24/7 table reading of Glengarry Glenn Ross that went on constantly just two desks away, complete with swearing, sexual innuendo and belching. My threat to take it to HR last week might not have been smart, especially my use of the fatal phrase “hostile work environment.”
I almost wish I could tell you I was fired for blogging, because knowing you guys, you’d probably send me outrage/sympathy donations.
I don’t care why.
I feel liberated.
I get paid until the middle of February, including benefits. Yeah, I’ll miss the 50% off cable/phone/high speed internet when that ends. But that’s about it.
I’ve spent the last 3+ years writing descriptions of fake diamond rings — and helping earn the company millions of dollars, not incidentally. (Which they didn’t thank me for, before or after I signed my papers in the drab grey “firing” room in HR).
I dreamt about those fake diamond rings — and KitchenAid mixers and ugly handbags — every night.
Now I don’t have to type the words “dazzling” or (God help me) “unique” again for a very long time. I don’t have to commute 90 minutes each way in the cold and the dark.
And it feels great.
Expect a crapload of blog posts from me for the short term, you lucky people.
I have a book project I’m finishing with the Rabbi, and lots of freelance resources bookmarked. A resume and portfolio to update. A gym downstairs I pay for and never use (plus a shrinking but still sizable ass). And, frankly, a filthy neglected house to clean, a cat to play with and books to read.
And a mortgage. So if you did hit my tip jar today, I’d be much obliged.
If not, that’s cool too. We aren’t starving.
Ever since I decided to change the name of my blog, I’ve sensed big changes were coming in my life. Well, here’s one now! Onward and upward…