Working on Life Support

 There's a certain irony in the fact that one of my past clients included
a job-seeker website. Also ironic that it too go cut from our company...

A couple years ago, I read Joshua Ferris' acclaimed novel Then We Came to the End which tells the story of a slowly dying advertising agency. Through lost clients, layoffs and personal tragedy the agency disintegrates character by character until there is no one left.

That book keeps popping into my head lately as I watch my coworkers deal with our impending department death.

We're lame ducks to some degree right now, putting finishing touches on projects we started Before The News. Handling the few assignments our clients beg us to jump on because they don't want to send them to the mothership in Sunnyvale. Mostly, though, we all come in and work on our resumes and portfolios and LinkedIn pages. It's rather nice that we're earning paychecks while we gear up for unemployed life.

It has been an interesting character study to observe the different attitudes of the people around me.

There are the angries. The people who say, "I'm checked out," and no longer want to invest in providing the service we once offered. There are the panic mode-ers who want a job immediately because the instability and wondering is just too much. There are the nostalgics who are most upset because this was a job they loved and they don't want to think about leaving.

And then there is me.

I am caught in the middle of a muddle of emotions.

I'm endlessly excited about having time off to work on my outside writing projects. Although my rational self doesn't feel scared about getting future jobs and income, there's a ratty little voice that has popped up a few times and said, "What IF you can't ever find a good job again?" Then there's the prickly little sadness that crept in over the weekend when I realized I won't get to be around the inside jokes and quirky personalities I've enjoyed so much these last 6 1/2 years. I suppose I'm feeling bittersweet.

I don't know how many more days we'll be in the office—if we'll actually continue coming in until our exit day, November 1st. I wonder if we'll just slip away unnoticed or if our client coworkers will feel our absence and rant about us being gone.

I wonder what my new normal will look like. Whether I'll segment my day into crafting, writing, cleaning and networking spells. Or if I'll talk Mr. Wonderful's ear off when he returns from his 12-hour days because I haven't had enough human interaction. Maybe I'll need to have skype lunch dates with people where I save money by eating leftovers from my kitchen, but still get to chat with a live person in the process.

I'm hopeful that the "great" will outweigh the "unknown." I'm hopeful that I will get paid to write in a new capacity that fulfills me more than ever. I'm hopeful that this job was not the pinnacle. And that I will continue feeling that this has all happened for an important reason. I am hopeful. I am hopeful. I am hopeful.