Sunday, January 8, 2012

Slipping

I've been having a rough couple of months. At this point it's all academic, doesn't really matter, but it's been bothering me enough that I really want to work it through in my own head (ie. by writing about).

So, a couple months ago I get called in to the Big Man's office. Everybody was getting called in, one by one, to be notified of the personnel cuts they were making. I wasn't really worried about it because they were only cutting a few people and I had the highest review numbers of anybody I worked with. So, I was pretty shocked when I was told they were letting me go in six months.

That messed me up pretty bad for a couple days. I had excellent marks, put gallons of blood, sweat, and tears into the firm, ten years of hard work, and I was getting fired (in six months). Hell, I was almost half way to retirement. Which is why they decided to cut me in the first place. We figured out that they were cutting all the middle managers so that we couldn't stick around until retirement, shaving thousands off the bottom line.

A week ago I get called back in to the Big Man's office. It seems they decided to cut too many of us at the same time. They needed someone to stay and help the transition. They were offering me quite a bit of money to extend my employment three months past the deadline. I was still fired, unquestionably, but if I sucked it up for a few extra months there was a big payoff.

My initial reaction was a polite "fuck off". If they didn't want me working here than I didn't want to be here. What was the point? I didn't NEED the money and I felt like they'd already taken as much of my soul as I could forgive.

However, I went and talked with Cat about it. When my employment runs out I plan on moving, there just aren't enough positions around here to justify my staying, so I wanted her opinion on the whole thing. She vehemently told me to accept the extension. I politely told her to "fuck off". She vehemently encouraged me to at least run all the figures and see how much the bonus was really worth.

So I did. It came out to almost six months of my salary on top of actually getting my salary for those three months. So nine months of pay for three months more working. That was a little harder to brush off.

I went back in this week and told the Big Man that I'd accept the extension. I don't NEED the money, don't want the work, but it would give me a lot more flexibility until I find a better job.

Maybe all of this sounds like the whining of a little bitch, there are plenty of people out there worse off than me. There are probably a lot of them that would jump at an opportunity like this. But psychologically, this whole situation has been totally fucking with my head.

I mean, I show up everyday to a job I never really liked, knowing that my days are numbered, and I just can't drum up any motivation to actually do my job. It's like showing up, finding out what the bare minimum is that I need to accomplish, doing that little bit, and then sitting around for the rest of the day humming "fuck this place". It's like purgatory, my old life is over but I can't start my new one for another eight months. I'm just taking up space, just breathing, until I can get my new life started. And I voluntarily extended the date to when I can begin again. For money. Money that I don't need. The tiny Buddhist in me cringes.

Rationally it all makes perfect sense, the time vs. money ratio is just too good to ignore, but emotionally I want to walk into Big Man's office and drop my two week notice on Monday.

So, eight more months until I can start moving on. Yippee.

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