Thoughts on Being Laid Off... Again

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Last week I got laid off for the third time in five years.

My thoughts, in order of appearance.

Wednesday, Sept. 25

(As boss's boss is talking to me in his office, door closed) Oh, crap. He's going to tell me I'm being laid off, isn't he?

(As he drops the bomb) Aw, hell. I was right.

Not again.

This sucks.

I'm so calm. It's going to hit me later, isn't it?

At least they gave me 2 weeks' notice, instead of escorting me out the door.

And at least they told me in person, instead of via e-mail while I was on maternity leave, like my last two layoffs.

(As I leave the boss's office) I gotta tell my husband.

I text my husband: "Bad news. Call me." 

It's been half an hour. Where is he? I want to tell him first, but I can't keep waiting. 

I go online and vent to some working-mom girlfriends, who sympathize and chat. 

Deep breaths. It will be OK. I've done this before. I can do it again. I'll find another job.

I finally talk to my husband. I shed my first and only tears as I tell him the news, because he cares, and he is kind to me, and that makes me fall apart.

I wrap up my phone call and visit the restroom to make sure my face has minimal evidence of tears. 

Two hours until time to go. I should work on this project. But somehow I can't bring myself to give a damn. 

Ugh. Soon I'll have to deal with the unemployment office again.

That's if I can even file for unemployment. I've been a "temp" here for the past 15 months. Oh, God. If I'm not eligible, we are screwed.

Riding home, I look out the window and see a homeless person camped out in a sleeping bag under a bush.  I need to suck it up. Things could be so much worse.


(Later, after the kids are in bed) Why is this so hard? I have skills. I'm a good, productive employee. I'm just trying to feed my kids and pay my bills and actually save a few bucks once in a while. 

Tomorrow morning I'm going to have that moment. That moment where I wake up, and I'm in that semiconscious state, blissfully ignorant of the real world, and suddenly the memory of what happened comes crashing back like an evil boomerang.

I need to stop thinking about this. I'm getting morose.

F that, today sucked. I'll damn well let myself be morose for a few more minutes before I move on!

Thank God I refinanced the mortgage this spring.

Friday, Sept. 27

At 3 A.M., my brain wakes me up to mentally compose a letter I'll never send to my soon-to-be-ex-boss.

This whole thing has been unexpected and upsetting. But I just realized what burns me the most: Being treated like I'm disposable. F THAT. F this economy, and F the companies that laid me off. I am worth more than that. 


That afternoon, I attend my grandfather's memorial service. I listen to my dad tell the story of how Grandpa was walking home one day during the Depression.

He was a teenager, and he'd just spent $14 of his family's scarce money on groceries. Someone jumped him, wanting to steal the food. Grandpa beat the crap out of the guy and brought the food home to his family.

THAT is where I come from. THAT is what I am made of. I can do this. It's going to be OK.