Today is the first day of the rest of my life.
Or something like that. It's Monday, and I'm not at work. Because I don't have a job anymore. Instead, I'm at a coffee shop - not because I'm a coffee drinker, but because I was really uncomfortable with the idea of not having anywhere I had to be. So, I loaded up my messenger bag and walked to my neighborhood coffee shop. You know, the one that has no sidewalks because all the neighbors drive their Suburbans to get there, even though it's less than a mile away.
Yeah. It was sort of like Sir Edmund Hilary's trek up Everest. Except not quite as cold, and without a Sherpa.
Today, all of my former cohorts at Corporate Behemoth are being bussed (bussed! in expensive charter buses!) to a hotel to learn from our CEO that insurance and 401K funding is being cut. They are truly being punished for sticking around.
I know that I'm so fortunate to have had my severance approved. I'm so fortunate that this was financially feasible for me and My Guy. And yet? Mentally, I am still at Corporate Behemoth.
The family that started the company basically now has nothing to do with it. When I look at what the sharks have done to the company and its loyal employees, I am indignant on the family's behalf.
I'm a little bit insulted that Corporate Behemoth shut off e-mail and badge access right at 5:00 on Friday for those of us taking severance. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.
I guess that's fitting, considering that we became invisible during our last 10 days. When everybody else went to a baseball game? We weren't invited. And those general team e-mails? We weren't included. Glad you valued those years of service, bitches.
I'm annoyed as all hell at our vice president, whom I have worked with for 2 years and who stopped by my desk on Friday, clearly because he felt he was supposed to, not because he wanted to. It was truly one of the most awkward exchanges of my life, culminating with him telling me, "Well, Faraway Town is a nice place to live."
"Umm? I live in Tinysuburbwood."
He just looked at me. "Oh."
What is it with people thinking that I live hell and gone away when I am desperately trying to hold on to my metro-area street cred?
And don't even get me started on the fact that I was basically the last person in the company to know that my position had been backfilled. And that my replacement friend was being included in meetings in my stead.
It should all just make me glad to wash my hands and start anew.
I spent last week busting my ass getting things as neatly tied up as possible. I spent the weekend listening to my sweet husband telling me to take a nap. And now?
Well ... now what?
I guess I need to give myself a break. I guess it's only natural that a touch of PTSD is coloring my very first day of unemployment.