"A Sorta Fairytale" Tori Amos

I was laid off.

I have known for some time that I am a capable of envisioning situations play out in a multitude of ways. I have come to realize much more recently that I am particularly gifted in imagining worst case scenarios. Give me an object, a setting, a timeframe and a person and I'll show you how these factors can collude to create a blackhole.

The very beginnings of my vortex came from the massive financial collapse. This initial rupture began late last year, when a company-wide memo exposed our vulnerability and declared the inevitability of layoffs. Add to that my relative inexperience as a manager--I am consistently the youngest, most inexperienced one in the room. Add to that a convergence of groups similar to mine, and the collision of employees with overlapping responsibilities. I was pushed beyond the event horizion when those well above me decided to replace me with two seasoned managers with many more years of proven experience.

In juggling all of these factors, I did foresee my getting the call from HR. But I had also put this thought into a special bucket of worst-case scenarios--along with contracting herpes when opening my mailbox, having an elephant fall out of the sky to squish me, getting a call from my alma mater that a clerical error somehow invalidates my diploma--that is, those that were unlikely to occur. I had seen it, but I didn't see it coming. And when I got that call to come into a conference room with HR and my director, I felt like I was socked in the stomach. Indeed, it felt like there was a strong force sucking my insides into another dimension.

I came out of that room a mess, sobbing and unable to control myself. And I joined the hundreds of others in my company during that two-week period who had devoted so much of themselves into roles and relationships that disappeared as quickly and as unceremoniously as a blackhole devours everything within its radial pull. The remainder of that day is a blur. I packed Christmas photos of my department, birthday cards that play music when opened, a handful of keychains from coworkers' vacations--fake sushi from Tokyo, a gilded elephant from Thailand, and what seems like a traditional Korean family crest made from woven string. Those that I work with--normaly a bunch of foul-mouthed sarcastic goons--had swollen faces and red eyes. They expressed sadness and compassion with bitterness at the company and firm handshakes that lasted longer than they normally would have. That day in the office was a funeral. Almost 200 lost their jobs during that day alone from that one branch. Almost a 1000 lost their jobs in the surrounding days.