Ahhhh. In the afterglow of Wedding Week, life returns to normal and I can breathe a sigh of relief.
I was working at my desk in the late afternoon, sitting as usual on the edge of my Office Depot standard chair, head bent over, shoulders tightened in a way that would make my massage therapist squirm, when he appeared out of nowhere. In soft-soled shoes that didn’t give me enough warning to alt-tab from blogger to Excel, it was my new boss. *damn* There was a tight-lipped smile on his face that definitely didn’t look like a boy scout selling cookies.
“Sarah,” he uncurled his lips, “let’s talk for a sec.”
Switching from Delicious to corporate Sarah, “Absolutely,” I replied in my best office-voice.
“Over in the Game Room.” The Game Room is a conference room. This was going to be a meeting. Important stuff.
“Should I bring my laptop?” He took a breath to pause.
“No, you don’t need it. It’ll be real quick.” Something in the tone of his voice, something about the pause being just a nanosecond too long made me feel uncomfortable.
I don’t need my laptop, but I grabbed my notebook and my pen anyway, and followed him across the polished concrete floor, past the fully-functional kitchen with a well-stocked pantry, through the engineering department equipped with a soda fountain and keg, into the Game Room. We sat down.
My notebook opened to the first blank page, pen in hand, I was ready to take notes.
“They’re eliminating your position.” He looked at me waiting for a reaction.
*whoa* I don’t think the expression on my face changed. I’m good at that. Words started flooding through my thoughts, but I stopped them. Stop. Wait. I quietly closed my notebook and set the pen down, perfectly parallel next to it.
He proceeded, but I wasn’t exactly paying attention. I caught words like “company’s revenue goals” and “budget issues.” I’m sure I had a very serious look on my face, nodding and mm-hm-ing at the appropriate times, but my mind was racing, turning to strangely related, but not exactly appropriate thoughts like...I should defintely try Honey’s Kettle up the street before my last day. And maybe get back to Katmandu Kitchen and Cafe Brazil, too.
He assured me it had nothing to do with me or my work ethic or my performance (well, duh, I already knew that), and that they’d like to help me in any way I can during “the transition.” Aw, how sweet! Tell "them" thanks, whoever "they" are. When it was all said and done, I picked up my notebook and pen that, yes, I didn’t really need to bring with me, and gracefully sashayed out of the Game Room, eliminated.
I'm sure I'll have more thoughts about this later after I've had some time to let it sink in, but for now, I need a cocktail.