“To change one’s life: Start immediately. Do it flamboyantly. No exceptions.” ~William James
I’ve been fired once before. From an assitive living community where Pat Riley’s mother once resided. Though to be honest I had a thing for the Knicks. And this was long before they were so awful that people bet 2:1 on their loss. I even had one of this giant puffy Starter jackets that precluded me from entering a doorframe anyway except for sideways but it still made me feel all bad ass. Me and my clarinet.
But my firing. I was 16 I would imagine. And the firing was done by some cross-eyed woman named Mary with white hair and glasses so thick that when she removed them I was shocked by the size of her eyeballs. They were so, so…tiny. And she fired me over the phone for leaving early one day. I didn’t check off my closing side-work and so I was let go.
I spent the next week sobbing into my toast thinking that I would never ever have another job again. For if I couldn’t make it in the food service industry picking up applesauce droplets from already stained tablecloths then I would and could be nothing in this world. I would be the least successful person ever and have to reside in my mother’s basement on an uncomfortable futon. No school would ever take me. And I’d end up on the street. The end.
Of course none of that happened I ended up getting into a perfectly acceptable university and graduating and everything! I even got a job! Three jobs! And here I sit in a comfortable Queen sized bed able to tell the tale.
My second firing happened today. Today I got fired from a part-time writing gig but still FIRED. Even saying it sounds wrong. The way it rolls off of my tongue and the harshness of the ‘f’ sound at the start of the word. Nothing about ‘fired’ sounds gentle though I suppose that it’s supposed to conjure up imagery of anything but gentle. Hearing the words come out from 1,000 miles away was like being shoved into an outdoor pool in the middle of December. It’s that initial shock of the chill that gets you at your core. Tears spring to your eyes as you tread back to the ladder. Those few feet feel like forever as you try to gasp for air but it’s only a few feet as you reach out and grasp onto the ladder.
Once out the initial shock dissipates but the stunned and the hurt feelings linger. It doesn’t mean the end of anything or the beginning of something. At least not at first. It’s just anger. It’s name calling and irrational tears even when you know that it was coming.
The time had come. I knew so. They knew so. I yelled and waited for it and practically taunted and begged for it to happen and it did. I can force blame and say the who, where, what and how and if you don’t like me tell me. I can say all of that bullshit to make myself feel better but what’s the use. It’s done. And to be honest there’s only so much one can write about being a 20-something on the path to acceptance of life and career. Hell, this would make an excellent post that shit happens and how to manage the shit of life with everything else. But they don’t teach, Man The Fuck up 101.
So, I’ve been fired. I’m not sure what I have to offer. But what’s that thing about the door closing and windows opening but probably not wide enough lest some recently fired individual jump out. But I still feel like something good is in the air.
At least that’s what I’ll tell myself every time I repeat the words; ‘you’re fired’.
19 Comments
ugh and oof. I’ve had breakdowns over quitting jobs amicably. I would be a wreck over a firing. so I’m here to tell you that you are handling it quite well. but here’s an inadequate *hug* nonetheless.
I’d say something like “everything happens for a reason,” but you don’t strike me as the type to buy into that. Which I consider a good thing.
I really am ok. It sucks and perhaps it means that hey! I’m a super shitty writer or hey! some people just don’t like me! Or my overwhelming naivete of being in my 20′s has gotten to me. Regardless, I’m fine. Or I will be.
Son of a hell.
Meh, there’s not a reason for everything–some things just happen. And you’re not a shitty writer, but I suspect you know that already.
Nonetheless, getting fired sucks. You’re handling it beautifully. Just keep on.
Shit.
And you’re a fantastic writer.
I’m sorry to hear this. I know you’ll be ok, but it still stinks to have all those questions about are you good enough swirling around. I hope those resolve themselves soon.
Getting fired sucks but the part about something good in the air, I think you might be spot on.
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I’m so sorry to hear about this. While your life will undoubtedly go in a completely different direction from here on, it’s nice when the decision is yours to make instead of it being made for you.
Oh, I’m so sorry! That really sucks. This will eventually lead to better things.
*sigh*
I’m sorry, boo. Really, really.
K.
I’m so sorry to read this.
hope the 80s romantic comedies helped.
if not, the invitation for a drink is still open.
I’m sorry! I’ve been fired three times, so I know what it’s like. But you know you’ll be fine and you are a great writer, so don’t even question that as a reason.
Who the hell would fire YOU…from a WRITING gig? Wow. I’m stunned.
It’s a lot like a break-up, isn’t it?
I am glad to hear, though, that you will be spending less time doing something less fabulous and will have time to seek out the more fabulous for yourself.
I have been away from blogging for a LONG time, and have spent today catching up. I’m glad to see that you haven’t gone anywhere … good luck with finding the wonderful thing that is currently awaiting you. You’ll find it.
Hi lady, sorry to hear that. We all know what a wonderful writer you are, so that’s something, right?
I’m about to put a little sumthin sumthin in the mail to you, so hopefully that cheers you up a bit!
More time for drinking wine. Will be over with Yellow Tail in 20.
ps. “the time has come, the walrus said” is the husband’s favorite quote EVER.
also? getting fired SUCKS ass. I’m so sorry.