Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.
Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.
Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)
Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero
Saturday, August 08, 2009
For those of you playing along at home, I landed on the "Go Back to Start" square of the game board.
I am officially unemployed. "Let go." Given a couple boxes and 30 minutes to pack my office and leave the building. Along with a bunch of other people.
Yeah. That sucks.
And no. The Bobs had nothing (or very little) to do with it. They hadn't even completed their consulting report and turned it over to management. This is kind of funny: The Bobs were "let go," too. Yes. My company hired a management consulting company to review, appraise and consult on the best way forward and fired them a couple weeks before the consultation report was to be submitted. I dunno. Really. I don't know. Not a clue. And since they chose to "let me go" I choose to not care.
It's surprising to me how easily I adopted apathy. I was so dedicated, loyal and enthusiastic about my company. As I packed my boxes (with HR supervision) and went through files and projects I was working on and worrying and wondering how they would be completed I said, "But what about..." The HR guy would put up his hand, interrupt and say, "Not your problem anymore." So, as I was escorted out of the building with The Others, and had a few last thoughts of concern about projects and clients, I replayed the HR guy's hand and "Not your problem anymore." By the time I got home I'd imagined it enough times that I was in a state of complete and utter apathy.
And so far, five days later, I've yet to summon even a trace of regard for my company.
And no, I'm not bitter, and no, I don't think I'm in denial. I have five sleepless nights, a day spent puking, a nervous tick in my right hand, gasping shortness of breath, hives and a mortgage payment to prove that I am very much not in denial.
I know I'm unemployed. I know the clock is ticking. (See above, like the addition? Thanks. I thought it would be handy for those of you playing along at home.)
I have two months to find a job. 60 days. The paychecks will continue for two months. As will the health insurance. After that there's no more money coming in on a bi-weekly basis.
On the plus side, apart from the financial worry (see above, sleepless nights et al) I feel pretty darned good. Relieved. At peace. Apathetic about my former employer.
Even, and I find this shocking, even happy. It's true - you don't realize how miserable you were until you're gone.
And I thought I realized I was pretty darned miserable.
So, to realize I was even more miserable than I realized is bad. Real bad. And that makes me sad. Because the reason I was so miserable is down to one person. My Twinkie eating, motivational seminar cliché lingo loving, credential faking, disrespecting, nincompoop of a boss. Former boss. I love that. Former boss.
I tried, oh how I tried to find a place of understanding, common ground, something with her. But try as I might I couldn't maintain significant respect for her. And that is a huge problem. Mutual disrespect.
So. Yeah. Apart from the financial aspect I'm happy to be gone.
Well.
And my clients. I really, really, really liked my clients. I liked the projects they presented me. I liked finding creative solutions for them. I enjoyed my work. I enjoyed working with them. Which is how I coped with my boss. It was a compromise: Problematic manager, fantastic work and clients.
So yeah, I'll miss them. Which does complicate the apathy.
There has been a large and sincere outpouring of outrage and support. Coworkers (from other departments), vendors and clients are all showering me with support and encouragement and job leads. I had lunch with a now former client. She called me the night I was "let go." Probably a breach of some contractual issue but we both decided to risk it. It was just lunch. We didn't talk too much about work, anyway, so, you know, I think we're "okay."
And who cares anyway? Not me.
"Wow. That's some kind of zen apathy you've got going there, Trill. Are you sure you're okay?"
Yep. Apart from the financial issues, and subsequent issues like losing my home and having to couch surf or move home with my mother I am really fine. Good. Happy, even.
And yes, oh yes, I am very, very painfully aware that the current average time between being laid off and finding a new job is 15 months. And yes, I am worried about that. I am not apathetic about the necessity of finding a new job and the reality of the abysmal job market.
I am very painfully aware that my unemployment pay will not cover my mortgage payment.
See above, sleepless nights et al.
But. My former company? Meh. Don't care. Don't even think about it unless someone else calls or emails and brings up the topic.
Sure, the financial worry helps force the apathy toward my former company. No doubt about it. They don't care about me, or my life, so no, I don't care about them.
But there's something else expediting the apathy. Something personal. Something painful.
I was dreading Monday. I dreaded last Monday for months. I even thought about taking the day off. No, I had no idea it would be my last day of employment.
But I was dreading it.
It was my dad's deathiversary.
I decided to not take the day off work because I didn't want to give the day "take a day off work" significance. I knew it wouldn't be just another day, but, I wanted it to be as close to just another day as possible. I'm not big on commemorating bad days. I mean, I know they're "important." But I'd rather remember my dad and be happy about him, remember the happy days, the good times. Not the ultimate bad one.
My plan for the day was that if/when thoughts of my dad's death crept up on me I would tell myself that a date on the calendar was of no significance. Just a date on the calendar. No significance.
I had some "moments" that day. A few random tears. I took deep breaths and reminded myself, "Just a date on the calendar. No significance." I thought I was doing quite well, all things considered. It wasn't easy and there were a few times I regretted not taking the day off. But I was glad the day was moving along pretty quickly and was looking forward to going to the gym and picking up a bottle of wine on the way home from work. I gave myself permission to have an evening with grief.
And then, toward the end of the day, in walked my boss and the HR people.
No significance my ass. Just a date on the calendar. Pfft.
Trillian's Uncanny Knack for Ironically Painful Timing strikes again.
