It's 10:00 on Monday morning and I am at home. I just woke up. Usually at this time, I am prepping for meetings, hankering for lunch, or sifting through the many emails that came in over the weekend. I should be at my desk, in my office, with one of my many pashminas draped over my shoulders, because no matter what season it is, it's always freezing in my cubicle. But I am not. I am home. Last month I was laid off.
You may think that I was angry, but I wasn't. My relationship with my job was a long and committed one. I had almost 10 years of a mostly healthy, mutually beneficial, and comfortable relationship with my employing company. I was surrounded by like-minded and kind people who became much more to me than the faces I saw each day. We cared about each other's lives, professionally, and personally. I attended their weddings, performances, and relatives' funerals. When my grandfather passed away, my boss gave everyone the afternoon off to pay my family a shiva call out on Long Island. My tiny department at our not-for-profit company was a family. But despite my comfort and happiness, there was no future with my career besides more of the same. I was cared for, and appreciated, but there was never any hope of growth. Perhaps this is the reason for my lack of anger. Perhaps I've known for quite some time, that my professional life required more out of my place of employment. That I deserved to receive as much as I gave out. And now, finally, (though it was not planned) I have the motivation and resources I need to move forward toward a healthier and happier relationship with a successful career.