When you are the anvil...

There are things in life that we prepare for. And mostly they are bad things. Yes, we prepare for vacations and nights out on the town and even parties that would make the wildest children of the revolution blush; but then there's everything else. We have insurance to cushion the blows of floods, theft, fire, accidents, and even death. We're ready for the worst to befall us at any moment -- yet it still hits us. Hard.

After weeks of rumors and wondering, I finally received the certainty for which I was so desparately longing (and yeah, I wasn't kidding when I said she's a cold mistress). In about a month, I'll need to find other employment. Can't say I'm surprised by the way this played out. I pretty much expected to come into work yesterday and be on my merry way by lunch. And, truth be told, I was (they gave us the rest of the day off to absorb the news) . What I didn't expect was to be back at the office today. So it was almost exactly what I'd envisioned, except I'm lucky enough to have a job until June and have more time than I thought to seek another cubicle in some other incarnation of corporate America.

As I was cruising up 71-North to meet my friend Lisa for lunch (the beauty of a free half-day from work: leisurely lunches), I was chatting with Michael and he made note that in the past 18 months, I've gone through a position elimination twice. Yeah, twice. Two companies, two completely different jobs, and both of them ended with the same "it's not you, it's us" speech given by a sympathetic boss who claims he's really just the messenger.

So here I am pondering to myself -- do I really want another job where I sit all day in a fluorescent-lit room, listening to the rhythmic hum of copiers and the all encompassing white noise of the ventillation system?

'Cause we all know how well it worked out these last two times.

And that's almost sad, because while my passion lies far outside the world of downtown highrise office towers, I actually don't mind working in an office and on somedays - brace yourself - I like it. There's something familiar about coming to work everyday, chatting with your coworkers about the weather and last night's episode of whatever show is currently making water cooler (have you seen those HBO ads -- I love those).

Corporate America: it's like school for grown-ups. You have a desk. You have work to do. And you have teachers, but now they're called supervisors. Some people ride the bus everyday and some pack their lunches. You get restroom breaks and this wonderful mid-day event called lunch (does anyone remember recess?) and just like when you were ten, you wait all week until Friday so that you can revel in the fact that you can sleep in on Saturday morning and watch cartoons. For many of us, it's now South Park or The Simpsons and it's on TiVo, but it's still Saturday morning cartoons. And the Fridays are still just as sweet.

So being downsized, having your branch wiped from existence because you're not in a viable market...it's weird. It's like I'm moving to another school. Again. And it bites. Bites hard. I like the people here. Just like I had school friends when I was younger, I have work friends now. We don't hang out much outside of the office and colleagues is probably the more acceptable term for most (just as "classmates" was the term back in the day), but that doesn't mean that friendships weren't formed and that sadness won't ensue when June rolls around. Sure, we'll all exchange emails and phone numbers. We might even meet up every few weeks for happy hour. But then we'll move on. We'll get our new jobs. We'll have new colleagues to share a round with. And soon this place that I've grown almost fond of will fade into memory.

It's still sinking in, you know? I mean, we knew this was coming. Business is business and as April rolled by it was painfully clear that we were less and less needed. So I was prepared. Prepared for "the talk", prepared to look for other opportunities (a euphemism for "out of a job"), and I was prepared to move on.

Edwin Markham once wrote:

For all your days be prepared,
and meet them ever alike.
When you are the anvil, bear --
when you are the hammer, strike.

This week, I'm the anvil.