Downsized but not Desperate

On Tuesday I sat around a conference table with members of my work family and, like an educational version of fairy tale court, we were told that our service and contribution to the kingdom were much appreciated but that our tenure was ending.

And just like that, I became the most recent casualty of corporate downsizing.

Let me back up a bit to catch you up on my story. Several weeks earlier I was finishing my morning class and when I got back to my office there was a letter requesting my presence at a meeting in the main conference room.

When I got to the meeting there were several members of the executive council present. I felt ill at ease but laughed anyway. The meeting started with some statement to the effect of…“This decision is not personal and has no bearing on your performance and contribution, but due to corporate re-structuring your position will no longer exist…”

The speech continued, but I decreased the volume to a low hum as I started an inner monolog with myself: Nothing personal? I guess I take having my livelihood changed and the ability to support my family, not to mention over a decade of service, very personal.

To their credit, they said I could apply for a new position -- a position that would duplicate my former responsibilities several times over. Oh, and did I mention that I would have to teach several classes in addition to those duties?

One of my mentors once shared with me that we all prostitute ourselves; it is just a matter of deciding whether you are going to be a streetwalker or an escort. I fleetingly considered the offer but decided that if I were going to don a tube top, fishnet stockings and hooker heels, I would cut out the middleman and hit the streets on my own behalf.

I was brought out of my inner monolog when one of the members asked, “Do you have any questions at this time?”

“No,” I replied.

I then rose and silently left the conference room.

I have always worked. When I was 15, I lied about my age so that I could work at 15 at McDonald’s. All of my adult years have been spent teaching young people. Who would I be if I were not an educator?

The next few days and coming weeks were a rollercoaster of emotions. In so many situations like this, the news traveled fast in our small village.

My team and work family were supportive. My students threatened to revolt and honored me with a touching tribute, which I may share later as I explore this new journey.

My emotions during this time vacillated between anger (How dare you discount my years of service and dedication?) and euphoria at the prospect of being able to explore other ventures.

I was amused by the range of reactions to my situation: Some people were sympathetic and offered words of support, telling me that my future is bright. My faith-based friends would often share that I should trust that this transition is necessary to prepare me for greater opportunities God has in store for me, and I truly believe that to be the case. Then there were others who would avoid me like the plague, or when they spoke they’d say, “I am so sorry” in the most morose tone.

I would think to myself: Hey, I simply got laid off, not diagnosed with testicular cancer. It is going to be all right.

Back to the meeting. We gathered our walking papers and, one by one, my educationally displaced comrades exited the meeting. I had said goodbyes earlier that day and hugged necks and thanked folks for their well wishes. I had also been purging my office for weeks of memorabilia collected over more than a decade.

I declined an invitation to commiserate at a local tavern with my fellow fallen work warriors. I instead walked out the side door of the building, as I had done so many times before. My exit did not reveal a Norma Rae-inspired scene of folks linked arm-in-arm protesting my departure, nor did I find streamers and banners wishing me well.

It was just me walking to my car in silence after almost 12 years with only three tote bags, my fears, memories and feelings of excitement and promise for the journey ahead.

I would have to adopt a new credo: I am not my job.

Here’s to the next chapter.

Comments

[Don Michael, Jr.]

One month from now you will wake up and take your first breath of air. There will be a moment when you will question your awareness regarding it being that of a dream or reality for the first time in a long time. This is the moment when you will realize that the one road you have been on has now become many new roads you can travel. Magic to the brave and malevolent to the weak. Professor, I can't wait to hear about your journey in the coming months.