The First Day of the Rest Of My Life

So, for the first week after the layoff, I've been doing what has been suggested: update your resume, send e-mail to colleagues you want to stay in touch, and (these days) update your LinkedIn profile . Likewise, I also washed and folded five loads of laundry, caught up on the episodes of "Reno 911" that I've recorded, and taken naps of varying lengths and time.

Now what? I already feel the grip of Doom (the fear of losing what I have) and Gloom (the fear of not getting what I want) settling in for a long stay. Doom and Gloom were awakened yesterday when a close friend forwarded a job posting for a writer position in San Mateo. They peered over my shoulder as I mentally tried to fit the square pegs of past positions into the round holes of the job description. They chattered incessantly as I calculated the distance (27 miles) and time (30 minutes) for the trip from home to work, balancing the comfort of a steady paycheck against the high stakes and long hours of yet another startup.

Past layoffs (and subsequent job searches) have always put me in this same spot, contemplating appeasing Doom and Gloom one more time, or considering the possibility that there is a Plan B. I've already looked at striking out on my own as a contractor (which I consider akin to walking on a tightrope), as well as the exit option of leaving the business altogether (perhaps teach).  I'm also beginning to accept that Plan A may no longer exist at all should my severance package run out and steady jobs continue to disappear at places like Sun (6000 jobs), Intel (5000 jobs), and Microsoft (6000 jobs).

As I turn 52, perhaps I'll just start with the thought that today is the first day of the rest of my life, and I will work out the rest of the details later. 

Who Owns Me?

The first time that I got laid off, there was a reorganization and I was odd man out (that one lasted six months). The second time that I got laid off, I said to the boss what others merely dream of saying (the consequence was a 90 day performance plan before being added to that list for the next to go). The third time I tried to be a good boy and did what the boss said, but it didn't make any difference (that layoff lasted three months). The fourth time I was a good boy, but the company folded anyways after a year (I was out of work eight months). This last time, I was not only a good boy, but a loyal company man as well for almost six years with what I thought was that ticket to retirement.

Whether I was a victim of circumstances that was beyond my control or my actions were the direct cause of my demise, I still was the one left outside looking in...apart, alone, and most definitely afraid. I now realize that fear will make you do interesting things--especially if it's those self-centered fears of losing what I have or not getting what I want. Self-centered fears will create both resentments that spur me to lash out or self-pity that allow me to sulk in a corner.

So what do I do with those fears when I actually land that next job? Well, I just bring them along for the ride into the most callous and ruthless arena--the work world. Job security is usually what's it's called. Play by the rules, do as you are told, don't speak out of turn. At first (especially during the probationary period when I'm first hired) it's seems perfectly sensible to go with the flow and not make waves. Then, over time, by what seems like only little sins of omission or commision, I'm asked either to do something I disagree with or overlook something that I know is wrong.

Usually, I comply because I can either rationalize (or perhaps even justify) that I'm just putting food on the table, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head. But as my needs for emotional security and material security grow to a house with a two car garage (with the SUV and the sedan parked in the driveway) and that almighty 401(k) for retirement, do I just become a human doing rather than a human being putting in long hours to pay the bills with little else to show but "stuff"?

At that point, am I really my own man? Who actually owns me if I have to play by the rules, do as I'm told, and don't speak out of turn, only to exchange six years of service at my last employer for a six month severance package and shown the door (again). Or, even if I do see myself as my own man, am I not just chasing that illusion of job security to escape from those nagging self-centered fears?

Was it really worth it? I guess I'll need to come to terms with the answer over time.

Life Happens (Again)

So life happens (again) when I get a call from my manager Thursday morning giving me the news that I've been laid off. This in itself is not a bad thing because I had a bladder infection and he didn't want me to come in that day if I didn't feel up to it (which I didn't). After 20 years as a technical writer, I've endured five layoffs from companies that you've heard of (Apple Computer, Novell, Sun Microsystems), as well as startups that simply disappeared. By trial and error, I have managed to maintain a somewhat calm perspective this time around having learned the following lessons:

• "Nothing personal, just business". Although company managers may say that they value you and your contributions, anyone can get sacrificed to the bottom line if the economy takes a nosedive (just ask the former CEO of Merrill Lynch).
• "If the boss says jump, ask how high." Either my actions and my decisions have a positive impact to the bottom line, or else I'm being added to that list of the next to be laid off (this follows the "shit flows down" rule).
• "Little changes now prepare me for the big change later" Either I adapt gradually as change inevitably happens (such as learning that new timesheet program for work), or else I resist change and (eventually) get added to that list of the next to be laid off).

I'm taking that last one to heart, and I invite you to come along for the ride.