Before the afterglow of vacationy goodness had a chance to fade, I was told today that my job is being eliminated at the end of the month. I am officially obsolete at the ripe age of 29. The writing has been on the wall for awhile, so while I’m not shocked, I am *lots* of other things. I’m sad, I’m happy, I’m pissed off, I’m confused, and I’m kind of numb. People have congratulated me saying that this is a great thing and other people have said they are totally shocked. Me, I’ve been okay–decisive and calm…totally zen all things considered. If anything, I’m amused at how radically things can change over just a few months. I’ve gone from being the prize in a tug of war between different departments, all who wanted me on their team to being eliminated entirely with a change in leadership. My, my–how fickle the world of media is. I’ve decided not to take it personally, though there are a few reasons why I certainly could.
So I’m heading for California far sooner than I anticipated. I’m breaking my lease and heading down south to get my new home all set up a whoppin’ 20 days from now. I’m getting the hell out of dodge.
The weirdest part is that I’ve never been unemployed–not since I was 12…seriously. My grandfather once told me that my workaholic tendencies were the result of a Puritan work ethic encoded in my DNA. He may have been onto something there…I had a thriving babysitting business in our subdivision that kept me busier and wealthier than all the lawnmowing boys in the neighborhood combined. I’m not ashamed to say it, I was just *that good*. I parlayed my mad skills into an afterschool job at an in-home daycare and in the summers, I scooped ice cream at Baskin Robbins. Then I started college and well, as a freshman I started with the organization I work for now. That was 11 years ago…I feel like I’ve grown up there and in spite of feeling root-bound lately, I always thought I’d get to leave on my own terms. Turns out, not so much.
Last night I watched Mad Men, as I always do on Sunday nights. Here my favorite characters were faced with an impending disaster–the company was about to be sold to a big, evil, corporate douche bag company. And instead of being whiny little bitches or wringing their hands, they took control and said damn the man, stole some clients, and started their own agency. I felt kind of ridiculous that I was so sublimely happy to see these ficticious characters taking the situation by the cajones. I had a dumb girl smile on my face watching Roger and Don reconcile and then seeing the whole gang together again, doing what they do best out of passion for the work. There was something awe-inspiring about watching Don circle the wagons in preparation of sticking it to those who didn’t give them the breathing room to do great work. I remember great work…vaguely. I think the last time I had the breathing room I needed to do great work was August 2008 while my mentor was still leading the organization.
For 3 seasons of Mad Men now, I’ve watched the relationship between Don and Peggy and it has always reminded me of my relationship to my former mentor. I only say former because we haven’t talked in a long time. I would still do anything for him, if only I could. What can a rookie possibly do for a veteran? I’ve worked for only one great leader in my past and he was it. I learned so much from him and I haven’t spoken to him in awhile in spite of a recent recommendation he posted on LinkedIn; instead we just exchange Facebook messages like we were nearly strangers. Well before all this me becoming obsolete nonsense started, I’d been thinking about him a lot lately and last night I cried for the first time in months thinking about how I’ve missed his jokes, his guidance, everything.
I’ll admit, I was embarrassed by how much I cried when he first left. It had felt like the house of cards I’d been building based on his carefully strategized blueprint was swept away in a big gust of wind. The role he played in my career and in my life was and still is irreplicable and yet I feel like if I ever came out and told him all that, I’d disappoint him because I wouldn’t be able to do it without my emotions bubbling over causing me to shed tears like the wimp he taught me not to be. Pokerface, pokerface–that’s what he used to say to me when my heart was huge blinking neon billboard on my sleeve. He wouldn’t want tears; he’d want me to be as composed as he taught me to be. But I can’t be composed with all this chaos right now, so instead there is radio silence (or in my case, TV silence).
I hope someday I have the guts to tell him that he’s my Don Draper.
totally brightened an otherwise icky day (but he did–meeeeyow!). I finally grasped the appeal, the reason that millions of teenage girls *and* their moms, not to mention the countless other people like me who stumbled upon it unintentionally, are so utterly enraptured by the story. It’s not that the books are especially well-written, but the story is so engaging and so universal; it speaks to what we imagine love could be, what we dream about it being before we have life experience that will inevitably poke holes in the plausibility of it all. And whether your boyfriend is a vampire or not, it captures the rush of being in love with someone so much that they’re like oxygen to you. For as terrifying as it is to share something in common with the hordes of shrieking 14 year-olds of the world, getting immersed in Twilight this week was an incrediby welcomed escape from all the things weighing on me lately. 
