Nobody Ever Said Life Was Fair

I hope you’ll allow me to indulge in a bit of self-pity seeing as how I lost my job yesterday. The past few months have been rough enough with all the uterus-scraping, kitty-dying, and deciding not to move back home after all. But this one totally came out of left field and is hitting me way harder than I thought it could. Probably because I have never ever lost a job before in my life. I’m used to doing the leaving, thank you very much.

Hence the reason I’m having a Bloody Mary at three o’clock in the afternoon. OK, it’s not a real Bloody Mary, it’s just the best mixed drink I could scrape together without leaving the house. And it’s got a V8 in it so technically I am getting a whole day’s serving of vegetables. Last night I drowned my sorrows in 3 buck chuck, and this morning woke up quite annoyed with Mr. Charles Shaw for doing me so wrong. But hey, some Alka-Seltzer, a few hours of resume updating and job application completing and I am ready to get back on the horse.

I would have loved to have spent the entire day ruminating on how unfair life is and why everybody hates me, but sadly once again I don’t get my way. In case you’ve been living under a rock and haven’t heard, the economy and the job market suck ass.

Of the handful of openings in this town that I’m qualified for I was interested in exactly one position. And it closed today. No time to sit around feeling sorry for myself. It was up at my usual time, some hangover curing, and straight to work on finding a job. Fortunately since I just fucking got this job six weeks ago, it took me about two seconds to update my resume. Actually, my resume and master application were still sitting on my desk because I hadn’t gotten around to putting them away yet.

Even with what’s happened, I don’t regret leaving my job at the Church. Parish Place readers will know what I mean when I say I needed to get out of there and I was too overwhelmed with getting through each day to look for something else. So when I heard from friends that an old job that I loved was open and was part-time and was about to be handed to me on a silver platter I leapt at the chance to take it. For lots of reasons. The chance to do something I love and know that I’m good at. The chance to work every day with some of my best friends.

The only thing that gave me pause was the contract nature of the position. I asked and was told, “They just renewed our contract – we’re good for 5 years”. I breathed a sigh of relief and accepted the job, just knowing this was going to be the last job I ever had. Surely before those 5 years were up I’d be a stay at home mom with a couple of rugrats, polyp-filled uterus be damned.

Life was good. We were approaching our first anniversary with a plan, Stan. And it was a good one.

Then all of a sudden, the state decided that technical details like legal contracts weren’t going to stop them from cleaning house. And clean house they did. Of the three of us on the contract (all good friends), two of us are gone. At least I have a husband and was the second income, so we aren’t going to starve or be homeless. Susanne’s a single mom.

And the one who’s left? Feeling like shit as she watches her friends get laid off, at the same time realizing she’s in for a world of hurt. Because knowing Retailbitch, she will expect Whit to bend over and take it up the ass.

And it wasn’t just us – pretty much all contracts are gone or severely cut. For all my smartass comments, I really, sincerely believed that the new administration (presidential and state) was going to support funding for social services. That this economy shit didn’t apply to me – there would always be a need for folks like me – and fucking woo hoo a Democrat in the White House *and* as our new Senator? I was sitting pretty, my friends.

Except. The word on the street is this is happening not only because of a current budget shortfall, but in anticipation of more funding cuts coming down the pike because of the new administration. What what what? That’s not what I was lead to believe with all this Change and Hope hoopla.

At least Options was nice enough to tell us as soon as they knew for sure. But since it’s effective December 1, making my last day the day before Thanksgiving, I get to work for two more weeks at a job that just royally screwed me. I want so much to just say fuck you and not ever go back, but that would only hurt the people that are left and I would never do that.

I hate that I have to compete with my friends for the few jobs there are. I hate that I’ll be 35 in three days and my career is shit. I hate that it feels like buying a house and having a baby is getting further and further away. I hate that my friends are hurting. I hate that I haven’t even thought about what to get the best husband ever for our first anniversary. I hate that he probably already got me something really awesome before our budget went to shit.

K, I’m putting the haterade down now. Thanks for listening.