We had been together for over twenty years.  I hadn’t been happy for a very long time but I didn’t have the courage to move on.  There were times when I would wonder, “How did I allow the years to go by with such little passion and feeling so unappreciated?   What happened to the spirit of that twenty-four-year-old, who courageously picked herself up and drove cross-country to Dallas with a boyfriend in an MG Midget--all in the name of love?  Why had I  ‘settled’?”

            The end came on December 23, 1999.  I knew from the tears in Gerry’s eyes what was about to happen and decided to be the first to speak.

            “It’s me, right?”

            She immediately dissolved into a chair sobbing.

            It was true.  My job and I were breaking up.

            While Gerry blubbered, I shut my office door.

            “It’s ok.  I’m fine with all this.”

            I was actually a little stunned by the news, but I thought if Gerry gets any more upset, I’ll have to medicate her.  Since she is my friend, as well as human resource manager, I knew laying me off couldn’t be easy.  I tried using humor to lighten the moment.

            “Gerry, cry later.  Just let me know how much money I get.”

            “Oh, Vicki, you’ll be fine.” 

I handed her some tissues.  The need to carry out her official duties helped her pull herself together.  She ran the numbers and explained my severance package.  When she was done, she sat across from me, with her eyes getting puffier by the second.

            “Please call your boss (Maria).  We didn’t know what to do.  Should we tell you now or wait until you returned from vacation.  I told her we should do it now because you were probably suspecting something and knowing would be better.  I also remembered what you said the other day, ‘Gerry, if I’m on the hit list, tell me right away, and I’ll be out the door.”  I don’t think Gerry took a breath while delivering this diatribe.

            In the meantime, I suddenly felt queasy at the idea of packing my things in little boxes and being escorted out.

“Gerry, is this my last day?”

“No, of course not!  I think Maria wants you to stay until the end of January, if that’s ok with you.  Look, call her now.  She’s probably waiting by the phone for you. Before you leave, stop by my office.  Believe me, it ain’t over yet around here.  There will be more firings.”

I suspect she thought the misery loves company factor would console me.  As she walked out, I started to dial the Chicago office where my boss Maria was based.  I had known her for the entire twenty-one years I had worked for the magazine and I reported to her during most of that time. She had seen me through my actress life, my “I’ve-fallen-in-love-and-I’m-moving-to-Texas life,” and lately my life as a writer.  She knew my day job did not define me, however, she ran the Production Department like a strict matriarchy and now the big bad company had messed with one of her kids. I knew she would take my being let go personally.

She answered the phone on the first ring.  I wanted to set the tone, so I jumped right in with a positive attitude. 

“Hi Maria.  First, I want you to know I’m fine. I really am.”

“Are you really?”  She gave out a sigh followed by a tirade of four-letter words that would make The Brotherhood of Teamsters blush.  I let her go at it. Better she should get it off her chest with me than with Denise, the V.P. of Human Resources (V.P. as in Vampira) and the woman who drew up the list of people to be laid off.

“Maria, I had a feeling it was coming.  And quite frankly, I’m relieved.  So many of my friends are gone; you’re in Chicago. At each good-bye party I was beginning to feel as if I was abandoned at the pier while waving goodbye to everyone as they left for their exciting journeys.”

For the moment, she seemed to believe me.  I reassured her that I would help train someone. At that point, my good nature began to get on her nerves. The Maria that I had grown to love and fear began to emerge.

“What do you care?  Let them all go to hell.  I’m so angry about this.”

I needed to hang up with her.  Emotional fatigue was beginning to envelop me.  We ended our conversation wishing each other the best for the New Year.

  Part of corporate culture is measuring how much time it takes for gossip to travel.  About an hour after I learned of my layoff, calls started coming in and sad sack faces appeared at my door.  The best was when the switchboard operator called to tell me I had a fax.  She ended with an overly sincere, “And you have a very Merry Christmas and don’t worry about anyone here!” 

I couldn’t get out of the office fast enough, while at the same time examining people’s expressions as they wished me a happy holiday. “Did they or didn’t they know?”

During the week I was home between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, the consoling calls and emails continued to come in.  It was then that I began to realize that my friends’ verbiage was almost identical to whenever I had a breakup with a boyfriend.  

“Don’t worry, something better will come along.”   

“You were unhappy for a long time.”

“You just have to get out there and try new things.”

“This is your time!”

And my favorite:

“It’s a new beginning for a new millennium!”

Well, the last nine months been eventful; I’ve given birth to a new life.  I have adjusted quite well to non-structured discipline.  Several on-line magazines have published some of my pieces; I’ve expanded my network of writer friends by participating in different workshops, and I’m doing something I never thought possible—I’m writing a book.   All of these are in the baby step stages, however, they are proof that the adventurous spirit in me didn’t die when I began to wear reading glasses.

For now, it’s scary, it’s fun, and it’s much more comfortable than the MG Midget.

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