Category Archives: Work

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

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I broke up with somebody this morning.

We hadn’t been together long – just a couple of months – and I suppose our relationship was like so many others. It burned with a white-hot intensity and passion at first, but the novelty wore off quickly. Our 7 encounters a week dwindled to 4, and before long, even that felt like too many. Ours was no longer a mutually beneficial union. I put a lot of hard work and effort into our relationship, and while I know the other person was pleased with my performance, I myself began to dread the monotony. In fact, I started to feel used. Even though I was getting paid – hey, these talents ain’t free! – it wasn’t nearly enough to justify the time and effort I was putting into the relationship. I began to long for others, ones less demanding and more appreciative of my skills. I found another, through an ad on Craigslist, and began doing that one, too. And then I sought out a third.

No, this isn’t some sordid tale straight out of a trashy made-for-cable-television movie.

Unfortunately.

I’m referring to my freelance writing. Back in December, when I first embarked upon this adventure, I picked up a client who hired me to produce a batch of SEO articles every week. I was thrilled at first, and plunged into the work with gusto. Before long, however, it became tedious. I was responsible for seven articles a week, and that first month they all involved writing about car insurance. There are only so many different topics one can come up with relating to auto insurance, and believe me, I covered them all. Again and again. Just when I finally got used to that topic, they switched me over to kitchen cabinet doors. There are even fewer topics to write about for that subject. At that point they cut their writer’s assignments down to four a week, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I picked up a second client and found their how-to articles and topics considerably more interesting. For one thing, I got to choose the topics I’d write about. For another, they paid more. Still, I continued writing for my original client, out of a sense of duty and obligation, even though the return on my investment was minimal. And then, two weeks ago, they switched things up again and my new area of “expertise” became steel buildings.

Throwing it all away is tough to do! (Courtesy of mediabistro.com).

I couldn’t take it any longer. I found myself knocking out all four articles in a single day just to get them over with. Worse, they were eating into my valuable time, which could have been spent on the better-paying and more intellectually stimulating how-to articles instead. Factor in this opportunity with Groupon, and suddenly I knew it was time to cut my ties with them. So this morning I fired off a very polite e-mail, thanking them for the opportunity and letting them know that the experience was invaluable and I couldn’t have landed other clients without it, but I had to focus on other opportunities now since this is my sole source of income and blah, blah, blah. It was a very nice breakup letter, trust me. Their response?

Because you did not give us the required notice, you will not be eligible to work with us in the future.

Ouch. I had no idea there was any sort of notice required when severing ties – nothing was ever mentioned to me in the beginning. It appears somebody was taking this breakup rather poorly.

So help me, if I come home one afternoon and find a rabbit boiling away in a pot on my stove…

…well, I guess I won’t have to worry about dinner that night.

But also, I’ll be really freaked out and scared.

I wrote back and said I’d had no idea they liked to have a notice, and they told me two weeks was appreciated so they could reallocate their articles and continue to meet their client’s needs seamlessly, and I get that, I really do. I started to feel bad about the whole thing and almost volunteered to keep writing for another couple of weeks…but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. These articles are that mind-numbingly soul-sucking.

I was chatting with a friend about this whole thing earlier today. She asked, Are you concerned about being ineligible to work with them again?

My response? No, not at all…but I am concerned with developing a professional image.

Which is true. As corny as it sounds, I want my name to mean something out there. I want it to stand not only for quality work, but also for dedication and commitment. The whole thing has turned into a bit of an uncomfortable and sticky little mess, but I’ll just have to deal with any potential fallout and move on. All the freelance books I’ve read say you’ve got to know how to best allocate your time and can’t be afraid to say “no” to people. Today was all about me, saying “no.”

As for Groupon, things continue to move forward. I submitted my third and final sample article today, and will have feedback on it tomorrow. Matt – the recruiter I’m dealing with – said “this is your last, best chance to shine before you are evaluated by the writing committee.” Err…there’s a writing committee that will be checking out my work and making a final decision?! Yikes. I’m more nervous than ever now. I think I’ve done enough to impress them – Matt’s reaction to my first two articles was positive – but without hearing back on the third yet, and knowing it’s up to a bunch of strangers now, who knows?

On a completely unrelated note, yesterday I went back to my old place of employment to visit with my former coworkers and friends. First time I’d been back since that fateful day in late October when I walked out the door for the last time. It was a little surreal, walking into the lobby and seeing a stranger – albeit a hot one – sitting behind the reception desk where Kristy belonged. “Oh, she’s up in customer service now,” I was told. I signed into the log book, was handed a visitor’s badge, and then – because it was obvious everybody knew me, judging by the greetings I was receiving from people walking by – the hot new receptionist gave me free reign of the building. I ended up staying two hours, and it was great seeing all those familiar faces again. I shook a bunch of hands, doled out a lot of hugs, and recounted my unemployment journey thus far ad nauseum. Walking around the place I’d worked for more than six years felt familiar and comfortable, and by the time I left, I was feeling more than a little nostalgic for the past.

But then, as soon as I got back home and walked through the door, I remembered how much I prefer being my own boss instead, and felt a lot better about things.

The Perfect Sayonara

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I wake up this morning at 6:00 sharp, the predawn darkness enveloping me in a cocoon, thick and heavy.  My stomach gives a little lurch as I realize that today is The Day.  6 years, 4 months, and 22 days ago I walked through the front doors of KNA as an employee.  Today, I will leave there jobless, forced to say goodbye to a bevy of friends and coworkers, and step out into a cloudy future.  I would like to skip this part, just stay in bed, warm and toasty beneath the covers.  As long as I am there, I am safe and secure.  I am still employed.  But of course, I can’t.

I stop at Starbucks for a latte.  It is packed inside, full of people with destinations.  They are all going somewhere.  To work, to school.  I envy them.  Already, I feel like I am a separate entity, adrift on a sea of uncertainty.  The coffee shop is my lifeline, my tether.

Sink or swim.  Must keep moving.

I pull into the parking lot.  Back into a space, of course, because that is what I do.  Bag slung over my shoulder, coffee in my hand.  Through the door, swipe my timecard, climb the stairs.  This is the last time, I keep thinking.  The last time I walk past the conference room.  The last time I log onto my computer.  The last time I stick my lunch in the refrigerator.  Thinking of the lasts makes me think of the firsts.  There was such an air of excitement then; the world was fresh and new.  And different.  I’d left a job I despised, on my own terms, to come work for KNA.  It felt sort of like destiny; I’d once worked across the street from them in Portland, and was curious enough to research the company.  Then they moved to Camas, five minutes from my house.  I interviewed there, in 2002, but the timing wasn’t right.  Two years later, it was.  I am not a believer in astrology, but the day of my interview, I check my horoscope.  This day is flavored with that most unusual spice, deja vu.  This revisiting of the past gives you a chance to do better.  You’re now more mature, after all, and have the self-possession required to calmly finish any incomplete business. I cut it out of the newspaper even before it turns out to be true.  Post it on my cubicle wall as a reminder: things that are meant to be, will be.

Even if they aren’t meant to be forever…

I boot up my e-mail.  Immediately, there are problems.  Incoming messages bounce back to their senders as undeliverable.  My outgoing messages disappear into the ether.  I attempt to print a document.  I have access to none of my printers.  My files are unreachable, the paths to them cut.  Unlinked links.  I am here on my last day, completely willing to work…and completely unable to do so.

The perfect way to use up a few last business cards.

It doesn’t matter.  There are doughnuts in the warehouse, courtesy of my good friends in the Print Shop.  They have gone out of their way for me these past few weeks, and remain true to the very end.  There is an impromptu get-together, a gathering of folks from various departments.  They are all optimistic that I’ll land on my feet and end up better off somewhere else.  I think I have been feeding off this confidence for weeks, and it has made me stronger.  The business of business aside, I ask how I can go out in a blaze of glory.  ”Streak through the warehouse,” somebody suggests, and I laugh.  I have to do this delicately, without burning any bridges.  I have been thinking about the intercom.  It can be, and once was, a source of hilarity, until management clamped down on that years ago.  But on this, my final day, can’t the good times be resurrected once more?  Someone comes up with the brilliant idea of paging employees who are no longer with the company.  It’s a gem of a plan, and I am on board.  Harmless, inoffensive, and funny.  Perhaps annoying to some, but I see it as the perfect sayonara.

I page the ghosts of employees past periodically through the morning.  Brad, once in IT.  Chuck, our long-departed purchasing guy.  Rick, the man who hired me and later moved on.  My coworkers laugh every time a new old name is mentioned.  This, it appears, has been a great plan.

The HR Manager meets me at my cubicle.  She apologizes for “jumping the gun” and inadvertently turning off my access to everything a day early.  Instead of meeting at 1:30 to go over final paperwork, she suggests 10:30.  ”Then you can go home.”  I say that I want to be paid for the entire day.  ”Of course,” she replies.  This sounds like a pretty good deal to me.  We meet, and it feels surreal, signing my name to my Notification Of Position Elimination paperwork.  She hugs me, a nice gesture that feels more Personal than Corporate.  I am given time to make my rounds and say my final goodbyes.  There are more hugs and handshakes.  People liked me, I realize.  Even people that I barely knew.  They all think I got a raw deal.  I am both humbled and strengthened by this show of solidarity.

All too soon, I have run out of goodbyes.  I couldn’t squeeze everybody in – some were gone, some were on the phones, some (a few) I just didn’t want to bother with.

I pick up the phone.  Page one last person over the intercom.  Andy, our former CEO.  I never did receive a memo announcing his departure, come to think of it…

I walk into the warehouse.  Down the stairs.  Glance back once.  The hustle and bustle are in full swing.  Will I never really see the inside of this place again?

I am outside.  The fall air is crisp, the sun peeking out from behind the clouds.

I start my car.  The CD that had been playing on my way in picks up from where it left off earlier.  A band called The Cinematics.  ”A Strange Education.”  The lyrics are frighteningly apt.

I’ll walk this long road ’til I find my way home; to somewhere familiar, to lay down my bones.

As KNA dwindles to a speck in my rearview mirror, I think, that is exactly what I am doing…

Take This Job And Love It

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I had a long chat yesterday with a coworker who gave me lots of good advice on surviving unemployment.  Before he joined the company, he was out of work for twelve months.  Yikes!  I know a lot of people who have been in similar situations.  I was out of work myself for more than ten months when I lost a job in 2002, so I understand better than most the long, difficult road that lies ahead.  All I can do is meet it with optimism and hope for the best, and learn from my past experience.

By the way, I hate the phrase “lost your job.”  I didn’t lose it – I know exactly where to find it.  It’s right here!  Then again, after Friday, it won’t be here anymore.  “Lost it” just sounds wrong, but who am I to quibble over semantics?

This time will be different, though.  I won’t have a two-year old daughter to take care of during the day, for starters.  If there was one bright spot about being out of work in 2002-03, it was spending time with Danielle during a crucial period of her young life.  I still have fond memories of pushing her stroller through the neighborhood during our daily afternoon walks.  Sometimes, she was even in it!  So much has changed since then.  The kids are older and self-sufficient (and only around half the time); the house has been replaced with a townhome; there’s no mother-in-law living under the same roof; the wife is history, but now there’s a cat.  On the surface, at least, it seems like there will be far fewer distractions this time.  Fewer excuses, too. 

"I'm #1! Statistically speaking, that is." (Image courtesy of monlife.com)

Now that the end is drawing near, I’m starting to think about what my next job will be.  I googled “best and worst jobs” yesterday to give me an idea of some of the hot (and not) career fields.  Job search portal careercast.com used five key measurement criteria to determine their rankings – stress, working environment, physical demands, income, and hiring outlook.  The results were somewhat surprising.  First of all, “marketing coordinator for a pressure washer manufacturer” made neither list.  Go figure! 

Here is a list of the Top 5 Jobs for 2010, according to careercast.com.

  1. Actuary.  Interprets statistics to determine probabilities of accidents, sickness, and death, and loss of property from theft and natural disasters. This is the #1-ranked job?  Staring at pie charts and bar graphs all day?  Put me out of my misery already.
  2. Software engineer.  Researches, designs, develops and maintains software systems along with hardware development for medical, scientific, and industrial purposes.  Presumably also spends gads of time playing videogames.  Hell, invents videogames.  Sign me up! 
  3. Computer systems analyst.  Plans and develops computer systems for businesses and scientific institutions.  I picture a guy walking around with a clipboard going, “We’ll put a Mac in this corner, a Dell over here, a wireless router by the lunchroom…”
  4. Biologist.  Studies the relationship of plants and animals to their environment.  I’d be a natural.  I already know that whenever I shampoo the carpet my cat will cough up a hairball within twenty-four hours. 
  5. Historian.  Analyzes and records historical information from a specific era or according to a particular area of expertise.  Seriously? I had to rub my eyes to make sure I wasn’t imagining this one.  The article goes on to say, while it may seem surprising that a seemingly obscure job like Historian would rank so well, in fact the career has many applications beyond just the classroom. Apart from academic settings, there is a great demand for Historians in the defense industry and State Department. Considering that the federal government is expected to be a top source of employment in 2010, this demand helps give Historian projected job growth of 24% through 2016.  Not only can I tell you that in 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue, but I actually minored in History in college.  Hmm…this may be my calling. 

So, those are some of the jobs I should consider.  How about the ones that are to be avoided at all costs?  Here are the 5 worst jobs.

  1. Roustabout.  Performs routine physical labor and maintenance on oil rigs and pipelines, both on and off shore.  Thank you for the description.  I thought that was a Yes song.  I think the gulf oil spill following the explosion on the Deepwater Horizon sufficiently scared most of us off. 
  2. Lumberjack.  Fells, cuts, and transports timber to be processed into lumber, paper, and other wood products.  I could never do this anyway, ’cause I’m a northern spotted owl-loving ultra-liberal tree hugger.  Though it would be cool to have a blue ox…
  3. Ironworker.  Raises the steel framework of buildings, bridges, and other structures.  Right – hundreds of feet up in the air.  I can’t even climb a stepladder without experiencing vertigo.  Pass.
  4. Dairy farmer.  Directs and takes part in activities involved in the raising of cattle for milk production.  Surely there are worse jobs than shoveling mounds of manure all day and, hey, possibly getting kicked in the head.  Moo-ving right along…
  5. Welder.  Joins or repairs metal surfaces through the application of heat.  Sweating off half your weight every day while dodging sparks and risking blindness?  What’s not to love?

Lists are both helpful and fun!  (Maybe I should become an actuary).  I’ve been inspired to come up with my own.  Here are 5 jobs that, while maybe not dream careers, are still things I can see myself doing.  And enjoying.

"Take this job and shove it!" (Image courtesy of nowpublic.com)

  1. Chilean miner.  Not only did these guys emerge with really bitchin’ Oakley Polarized Radar Range sunglasses (that retail for $260), but they’ve also been given food, clothing, wine, toys, and even sexy lingerie for the wives (and girlfriends, presumably).  Plus book deals, movie offers, meetings with the president.  Lucky bastards!
  2. Jet Blue flight attendant.  Nobody expects you to put up with rude customers – you can simply curse them out over the intercom.  And at the end of a long and trying day, you can get yourself drunk, deploy the emergency evacuation chute, and slide to the ground.  Wheee!!!  And, you become a folk hero with your own Facebook fan page.  Yes, please.
  3. The next Simon Cowell.  Where else can you get paid a gazillion dollars for hurling insults and crushing dreams?  You get to hang out with famous (if somewhat over-the-hill) music icons like Rod Stewart, the dress code is lax (stock up on tight black t-shirts), and there’s a never-ending supply of  Coke whenever you’re thirsty. 
  4. Wino.  Don’t be scared off by the low no pay - rent is cheap (it’s easy to find a cardboard box); you aren’t chained to a desk all day; you get plenty of fresh air and exercise; sometimes if you’re just standing around people hand you money; and you spend all your time in a blissful, ignorant stupor. 
  5. Mayor of Wasilla, Alaska.  Because, seriously, No Experience Required.  Also, you don’t have to know diddly about geography or current events or, umm, anything.  The scenery is beautiful.  And you spend all your time in a blissful, ignorant stupor.

So, there you have it.  Lists, lists, and more lists!  At this point, I can’t wait until I’m officially unemployed so I can get started on finding my dream job.

I wonder how much a one-way ticket to Wasilla costs?

Rolling The Dice

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Due to the unusual circumstances surrounding my departure, my coworkers threw a farewell potluck for me today – a week early, as my last day isn’t until next Friday, the 22nd.  Not that I blame them; up until a couple of days ago, I had no idea myself how much longer I’d still be here.  I’d only been promised two weeks initially, so they were right on the money in guessing that today would be the day. 

By the way, it’s hard to believe that I’ve known about the impending layoff that long now.  At the same time, it feels like I’ve had one foot out the door forever.  I don’t know quite what to make of that.

It’s been awhile since we’ve had a potluck at work.  I usually haul in my crockpot and contribute something hot, like meatballs.  For some reason, a bag of frozen meatballs heated up with a jar of barbecue sauce is always a big hit at these shindigs.  It’s hardly gourmet, but there’s just something about ‘em that people love.  Cocktail weiners are similar crowd pleasers.  And yet, you never once see them available as appetizers on restaurant menus.  I suspect there’s a great, untapped market for miniature hot dogs out there.  Hmm…food cart idea # 2…

Anyway, as I was the guest of honor, and the potluck was kinda-sorta (but not really) a surprise, all I had to do was show up.  Which was easy, considering it took place in the cubicle right next to mine.  I couldn’t have taken so much as a single step without finding myself knee-deep in turkey wraps and fried chicken and Frito corn salad and bean dip and – wonder of wonders, be still my beating heart – an honest-to-goodness mojito cake baked by one of my thoughtful coworkers who knows that I am a lush enjoy the occasional mojito (probably based upon an ill-advised,  half-drunk Facebook status update or two, oops!).   The cake was awesome.  Actually, everything was.  We all agreed that we should have potlucks more often, although they’d probably be less somber affairs if they didn’t signify somebody’s imminent departure. 

Mojito cake, a/k/a the best potluck dish ever.

I actually like the fact that this happened a week early.  Let’s face it, my mind will be elsewhere next Friday.  I doubt I’ll even make it through the day.  If I check out a little early, what are they going to do – fire me?!    Now that we’ve got the business of saying goodbye out of the way, I can get back to the real business at hand.  Which, admittedly, has largely revolved around me planning a strategy for my unemployment.  I’m not saying I haven’t worked – I have, plowing through various projects as they’ve come up – but I think that a loss of motivation under these circumstances is unavoidable.  Plus, I’ve got to take care of myself, because nobody else is going to do it.

Taking care of myself has meant a few things. 

  1. Making sure my resume is up to date.  Fortunately, it is, though the layout could use a little polishing.  This is an easy-enough fix.
  2. Figuring out what LinkedIn is all about.  I joined a couple of years ago, because my other coworkers were all on there, but I never quite knew what to do with it.  On the surface, LinkedIn is kind of like Facebook for the career-minded, without the distractions of Farmville and Mafia Wars.  But I guess it’s more than that…it’s supposed to be a networking site.  Might as well use it as such – I’ve got nothing to lose.  So I filled in a lot of missing blanks, updated my profile, sent out connection requests to a whole lotta people I wasn’t yet hooked up with, and even sent out a couple of requests for recommendations.  We’ll see where this all leads.
  3. Having personal business cards printed up.  Somebody I know (a couple of somebodys, actually) made me a generous offer to print cards for me, for free.  The idea had actually never crossed my mind, but some internet research showed that personal networking cards are in vogue these days.  Hmm, who knew?  So I came up with a nifty title for myself (Writer & Creative Strategist) and a catchy little slogan (Mark my words…I’ll do the job “write”!), found a colorful image to include, and – thanks to another donation (free card stock), am now the proud owner of 500 business cards.  These will be useful for interviews, and passing out to colleagues, and maybe even posting in random places.  Like grocery stores and strip clubs.  OK, scratch that last one.  I’ve even got a link to this-here blog, so I’d better keep it (mostly) clean!  The point is, they’ll help keep me focused on my #1 goal – to be a writer.  And if nothing else, at least now I’ve got something to drop into a fishbowl and, hopefully, snag a free lunch or two.

I’ve still got a lot of work to do, but now it feels like I’ve at least got a head start.  A lot of people are telling me they feel confident that I’ll find my dream job before too long, and while I’m not sure if they’re just being polite or truly believe in my abilities, I have to admit, I continue to feel very upbeat and positive.  The thing is, I probably could have stayed with the company.  There’s a customer service position opening up, and I was encouraged to apply.  This would make sense for a number of reasons, most notably my lengthy experience in customer service (fourteen years) and the fact that I began here as a customer service representative.  I’d pretty much be coming full-circle. 

But it doesn’t make sense for the biggest reason of all: it’s not what I want to do. 

“It isn’t your passion,” the VP in charge of that department told me, cutting me off when I needlessly began to explain my reasoning for not throwing my hat in the ring.  “You’re a creative guy.  It’s too easy to get pigeonholed into doing jobs you don’t love this way.”

‘Nuff said.  He’s exactly right.  Sometimes, in order to make your dreams come true, you’ve got to take a chance.

This is me, rolling the dice.

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The Devil Hired A Chef

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Image representing Facebook as depicted in Cru...

Image via CrunchBase

Every creation myth needs a devil ~ Marylin Delpy, The Social Network

I took advantage of a rainy Saturday afternoon to go see The Social Network.  This film hadn’t even been on my radar before its release; I’d heard of it, of course, usually referred to as “the Facebook movie.”  How uninteresting, I thought.  Who’d want to go see a movie about the history of a website?  But it was released to glowing reviews and strong word of mouth, and suddenly, my curiosity was piqued.  I don’t necessarily think movie critics are always to be trusted, but when so many of them said such positive things, the accolades became impossible to ignore.  Plus, I really like Facebook.  So I decided to check it out.

And boy, am I glad I did.  The Social Network is nothing short of incredible.  The plot is full of drama and suspense and humor.  The acting is great.  It’s fun to learn the background behind what is arguably the biggest website in the world (sorry, Google).  I learned some things.  And I was wildly entertained the entire time.

Most importantly of all, though?  I was inspired.  Mark Zuckerberg may have been an asshole (or, as one character in the movie states toward the end, not an asshole per se, but somebody who spends a lot of time trying to look like an asshole.  There are glimmers of humanity here and there, despite his attempts to hide them), but he was also a real go-getter, and look at the result.  He is the world’s youngest billionaire.  Love him or hate him, you’ve got to admire his chutzpah, if you will.  Rebellion is glamorous (just ask Holden Caulfield).  The opening quote sums it up well.  Every creation myth needs a devil, and who better to serve as the symbolic Satan than the founder of Facebook himself, a person who clearly twisted the moral code of ethics to suit his own lofty ambitions?  Be that as it may, Mark had a vision, and he stopped at nothing to ensure that he achieved success.  That I admire.

Mark Zuckerberg, a/k/a My Future Boss. (Image courtesy of Wikipedia).

Being immersed in that world for two hours made me crave it.  I am at a crossroads in my life, and as such, am in a unique and rare position to seriously self-assess my life and decide what I want to do about it.  Where I want to go next.  This isn’t the first time I’ve been laid off.  It happened once before, in 2002.  I was shown the door after putting in ten years with a company that manufactured pneumatics.  I was eight years younger then, and I viewed what happened to me as a minor setback, a brief hiccup in my career, but no reason to stray from the path I’d set out on.  I focused my energy on finding as similar a job as possible, and wound up eventually with a company that manufactured pressure washers.  Now, a little more than six years later, I find myself in the same boat.  This time, that hiccup feels bigger and noisier.  Harder to deny.  Do I want to end up in yet another similar job in yet another similar corporation and find myself once again in this position three or five or twelve years down the road?

Hence the career reassessment.  The dreaming big.  The anything-goes-and-the-world-is-my-oyster philosophy.  I have some ideas of things I’d like to do, and I’ll talk about them in future posts.  But you know which company I’d love to work for?

None other than Facebook.

Curious after the movie, I brought up my Facebook page.  Satisfied (yet disappointed) that I hadn’t been poked, or asked to water anybody’s crops or to like some asinine cause such as Save the ostriches (My head must be stuck in the sand, because I didn’t realize they’re even endangered?) or Give a serviceman a hug (How about extra ammunition or, better yet, a ticket home?), I scrolled to the bottom of the page.  There’s an About section.  I clicked on Careers.  And then, just for fun, Benefits & Perks.  By all accounts, Facebook the corporation is a pretty generous employer.  They offer a great healthcare plan.  4 months of paid parental leave if you have a baby – plus $4000 cash.  Holy crap, let me get this straight: you do the deed, knock up your partner…and get paid for that?  In addition to gobs of time off?  Sex never sounded like such a good investment before.  But there’s more.  They reimburse you $3000 a year for daycare or babysitting expenses.  21 days of paid vacation.  Unlimited sick days.  Plus 11 paid holidays.  Their most awesome perk, though?  Food.  Their website says, Facebook provides microkitchens and lots of great, free snacks at just about all its major worldwide locations. At our Palo Alto headquarters, we also offer free breakfast, lunch and dinner at our Cafe. Whether you’re looking for healthy salads, hearty world cuisine from countries such as Belize and India, or just a couple slices of pizza, Chef Josef and his team of culinary geniuses make it happen every day.

International cuisine?  Chef Josef?  Culinary geniuses??  I’m just thankful for free coffee where I work.  And there’s more.  A free laundry service.  Drop your dirty clothes off at the start of your shift, and they are delivered back to your desk, clean and pressed.  Famous guest speakers, discounts with big companies like Apple and Dell, complimentary shuttle service.

There’s a company I could see myself working for!  Too bad their headquarters are in Palo Alto.  Been there, done that (the Bay Area), thanks but no thanks.  They do have offices around the world, though.  New York and Chicago and Seattle (hey, that’s close!).  London and Paris.  Dublin.  Hamburg.  To name but a few.

The world may indeed be my oyster.  And I think I just found my pearl.  My shiny, gleaming, white-letters-on-blue-background logo of a pearl.

Hey, Mr. Zuckerberg, you listening?

Dead Man Walking

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You are not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet.

~ Tyler Durden, Fight Club

When you are losing your job, I’ve discovered that people are nice to you. Like really, really nice.  Going-out-of-their-way-to-be-there-for-you kind of nice. Everywhere I turn, I see sympathy in the eyes of my coworkers.  It’s almost uncomfortable.  I want to tell them “I’m fine!” so they’ll feel better and maybe just look at me normally.  Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate their concern, and I’m glad that so many of them are upset by my impending departure.  It makes me feel liked.  But, the sidelong glances as I walk by, and the conversations floating around the office behind my back, make me feel like Dead Man Walking.  In case you aren’t familiar with the phrase, it was coined by prisoners to indicate a person who is condemned to death. Whenever guards would lead a man sentenced to death down the prison hallway, other convicts would shout out, “Dead man walking!”  Granted, I don’t have a date with the executioner lined up (the possibility of errant Mach trucks drifting into my lane of traffic on the commute home notwithstanding), but my fate with the company has already been decided, and I’m not long for this (corporate) world.

Tuesday morning, as soon as I clocked in, I stopped by Pam’s cubicle to deliver the news in a delicate whisper.  “I know, I heard already,” she replied.  My, how news travels fast!  I’ve always marveled at the efficiency of the office rumor mill.  It’s better than Twitter.  At least it made my job easier.  My job of letting people know, I should clarify.  I didn’t get any actual work done that day, I was so busy recounting my story to coworkers. Every time I took three or four steps, I was bombarded with attention.  I spent maybe 30 minutes at my desk, and 7.5 hours in other parts of the building – upstairs, downstairs, warehouse, lunch room, conference room – talking.  After an initial and well-meaning burst of outrage, the question everybody asked was, “Who’s going to do {insert task of mine in question}?” Like, who’s going to process the marketing credits? and who’s going to order the printing jobs? and who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it with dew, cover it with chocolate and a miracle or two? The answer to that last one, at least, is The Candy Man.  Oh, The Candy Man can.  To the other questions, I just shrug my shoulders and say, “Beats me.”  I do not know, and truth be told, I do not care.  That’s for the higher-ups to decide.  The ones who came up with the brilliant plan of downsizing me right out of a job in the first place.

'Cause he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good. (Image courtesy of examiner.com).

Wednesday, the dust had settled and things felt more normal.  I wasn’t constantly making the rounds, and actually got some work done.  HR Manager came over to my cubicle in the morning and asked me how I was holding up.  “I’m doing fine,” I said.  And assured her that I harbor no ill will towards her or my boss.  “How should I be feeling?”

“Well,” she replied.  “It’s a process.”

“Like the Five Stages Of Grief?” I asked.

“Exactly.  You might be feeling angry, or scared.”

I reiterated again how okay I was, and she said to feel free to let her know if I needed anything or had any questions.  Other than “my job back” and “how can I have my job back?” I had nothing, so I let her leave.

The thing is, I really am okay.  My friends and family and coworkers keep marveling at how alright I am with things.  They’re expecting that same anger or fear, but I just can’t seem to muster either emotion.  Other than a vague sense of disquiet borne from not knowing where, exactly, I’ll be six months from now, I don’t feel much of anything.  In fact, I’m looking at this unexpected turn of events almost as a gift.  It’s a chance to reevaluate my career plans.  It just may be the kick in the ass I needed in order to get out there and do something that truly makes me feel happy for a change, rather than showing up Monday through Friday to collect a paycheck.  I did not dislike my job, but it wasn’t challenging enough for me.  I know there are better opportunities out there, and now, I get a chance to go out and find them.  I’m feeling very liberated.  The future is wide open, and I am considering many different possibilities.  Sure, I’ll probably end up behind a desk at some other faceless corporation – but then again, maybe I won’t. Now’s the time to change things up and do something about that, if I’m brave (or desperate) enough.  A writing career is my biggest goal.  I could try freelancing for a while, even while searching for a steadier income.  There’s the food cart I wrote about.  Hell, maybe even culinary school.

I didn’t ask for this, and wouldn’t wish it upon anybody, but since it happened anyway and nothing can change that, I might as well dream a little.  Right?

Just Like David Brent

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David Brent

Image via Wikipedia

Just the other day, I was talking to a friend about this blog, and commiserating over the fact that it’s not a particularly personal look at my life.  My original intent was to chronicle my efforts at getting a novel published.  However, writing about writing all the time is pretty dull, and I wanted to unleash the creative reins a bit, so I decided instead to turn it into a fun, humorous, and (hopefully) witty series of rants, or mini-essays if you will, about whatever topic struck my fancy.  My goal?  To showcase my writing, and to entertain the masses.  I think I do those things fairly well here, but still, I told her just yesterday that I would like to take a stab at some more emotionally-driven types of posts.

Be careful what you wish for…

I may have to officially subtitle the blog “One Man’s Journey From Unemployed, Struggling Writer To {Fill-In-The-Blank}” because, yesterday afternoon at work, my worst fears were realized.  I was notified that I had been “made redundant” as our friends across the pond are fond of calling it.  It appears I’ve got something in common with David Brent (from the British version of The Office) now.  Oddly enough, that makes me smile.  Ricky Gervais is funny as hell.  Then again, his character was crude, overbearing, and egotistical.  So much for that smile.

Here’s how it all went down.

I was at my desk, putting together some certified letters to mail, when my boss approached me at 3:30.  “Hey, Mark,” he said.  “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Great.  Let’s go down to HR.”

The minute those words left his mouth, fear hit.  Numbing, almost paralyzing, fear.  Because nothing good ever happens when you are summoned to an impromptu meeting with the Human Resources Manager.  I suppose in theory they could be offering you a raise or a promotion, but then again, in theory pigs could fly.  If you dropped them from an airplane with a parachute tied around their torsos.  Nope, I knew right away the news was not going to be pleasant.  That walk from the west wing upstairs, where my cubicle is located, to the HR office downstairs was the longest of my life, and the whole time, the same word kept repeating itself over and over in my head.

Shit.  Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

When we got to HR, I was ushered into the HR Manager’s office, and the door was closed.  She was on the phone, which led to another interminable two minutes in which I stood there awkwardly, hands in my pockets, trying for all the world to look nonchalant while that same refrain rambled on through my brain.

Shit, shit, shit.

I imagined that I had committed some violation of company policy and was being called out on it.  Excessive internet use or too many personal phone calls, something of that nature.  So, when HR Manager finally hung up the phone and said, “Mark, I’m sorry to inform you that a corporate decision has been made to eliminate your position,” my first reaction was one of relief.  Whew!  I wasn’t in trouble for anything!  But a second or two later I thought, Hey, wait a minute…that ain’t exactly good news, either!

I was both shocked and, at the same time, not at all surprised.  There have been several rounds of layoffs at my company in the past two years, and a lot of good people have been let go.  I’d fretted out loud, since early 2009, about how my head might one day be on the chopping block, too.  But then the oil rig explosion in the Gulf happened, and that was a boost to sales.  It sounds weird that we could benefit from a disaster like that, but we did.  Sales have been through the roof these past few months.  Our CEO was just congratulating us for another record-breaking month, in an e-mail full of confidence and enthusiasm.  I had finally let my guard down, so of course that’s when the shit hit the fan.  It’s Murphy’s Law, or some variation of that.  You know how they say “expect it when you least expect it”?  All I can say is, amen, brother.

HR Manager asked if I had any questions.  “Err, yeah,” I replied.  “When is my last day?”  Surprisingly, she could not give me an answer.  I was told they’ll need my services “probably at least another two weeks, maybe 30 days.”  Really?  So you’re letting me go, but you can’t tell me when?  Seems like they’d have worked that not-so-insignificant detail out before calling me in, but apparently not.  However, considering that I wasn’t escorted out of the building right then and there, like so many of my fallen comrades, I can’t really complain.  An open-ended end date is better than an instant end date.

I then ended up consoling HR Manager, who was visibly distraught.  “I feel terrible having to deliver news like this,” she said, and even though I was on the receiving end of a nice little kick in the ass, I couldn’t help but feel badly for her.

“I’ve been in your shoes before,” I told her reassuringly.  And I have been.  Not literally, of course – heels aren’t my thing – but, I’ve had to let a couple of people go in past jobs, and I know how unpleasant that is.  “I don’t blame you for a corporate decision.  That’s business.”

And, damn, that’s really understanding of me.  But I’m not one to burn bridges.  I intend to remain professional right up until the very last second.

“Why don’t you go ahead and take the rest of the day off,” she said.  I glanced at the clock on the wall.  It was 3:45.  I leave at 4:00.

“That’s okay,” I said.  “I’ve got some certified letters to take care of.”

“No, really,” my boss interjected.  “The letters can wait.  I’ll clock you out at 4:00.”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth – and not really given much choice in the matter, anyway – I marched back up to my cubicle, gathered my things, and logged off the computer, leaving a whopping fifteen minutes early.  Why couldn’t they have met with me in the morning? I wondered.  That way, I’d have had half a day free.  Oh, well.  Such is life.

So here I am, still technically employed, but only for a little while longer.  If there’s a silver lining to be found – and trust me, I’m digging around like crazy for one – it’s that now, for a little while at least, I can focus on getting that novel of mine published.  It’s time to query every last agency in my book.  One final, all-out blitz on the publishing industry.  I’ll have a decent enough severance package, one that will keep me afloat through the end of the year.  Plus, there’s unemployment, and a girlfriend who is already offering me tons of emotional support.  I will be okay.  I believe that with all my heart.

Also in the Let’s Make Lemonade Out Of Lemons department – now I’ve got some really good fodder for the ol’ blog!  I see some honest to goodness soul-baring posts ahead!  I won’t abandon the fun and witty stuff, but it’ll now be interspersed with posts chronicling the trials and tribulations of my impending job search.  Fun stuff, I’m sure.

Are you ready to come along for the ride?  Buckle up, and let’s go.