take this job and fill it
I acquired new employment last week. My old company was bought out by a rival last year, and subsequently a job I once enjoyed had become a hellish place to work at, and a boring hell at that. I was really sad to have to go this route, because I enjoyed most of my time at this particular employer. But the old people were fleeing the building like rats from a sinking ship, and it was an open secret that everyone not gone already was planning his/her escape. My position had drifted aimlessly away from its original job description into the murky waters of borderline degrading. Though I have six years of publishing experience and a good grasp of Quark, Photoshop, etc., I was basically made assistant to the "new" people imported from the conqueror's ranks, performing menial, intern-level tasks. My days came to consist almost entirely of printing out ads for salespeople. To me, it was like a third-year resident being asked to count the cotton swabs in the hospital supply room. So it was onward and upward for me. When I gave notice last Friday, my old supervisors were happy for me, and wished me well--and not too subtly inquired if there were any openings at the new joint.
Come Monday I found myself with little to do, so I decided to compose another long screed for my web site. While doing this, the Big Boss, the guy who bought the company and turned my job into a yawning nightmare, snuck up on me. I had become attuned to the sounds of people approaching my desk, and I sat in a place from which there were only two approaches--one I could see clearly, the other a back door into the office with an outer door that signaled any oncoming traffic well in advance. So I don't know how this guy managed to get the drop on me. Maybe he teleported like Nightcrawler, but I surely would have heard the BAMF and smelled the sulfur. Out of nowhere, I heard his creepy Long Island-inflected voice over my shoulder ask what I was doing, and I almost jumped out of my seat. It was instantly obvious to me that his goal was to creep up and catch me doing something wrong.
I have gone through many philosophical stages in my life, from Full-Fledged Person of Faith to Pinko Commie Secular Humanist. But no matter what else I believed in, I have always believed in The Truth. Not because I think it will gain me any rewards, either here or in the Great Beyond, but just because I think it's better to be as truthful as you can. We all need and expect other people in our lives to be truthful, so we must demand the same of ourselves, says I. Of course, I am just as susceptible to telling a panicked, save-my-ass lie as we all are. I do not pretend to perfection. But in this case, having given notice and looking forward to a week and a half of saying goodbye to vendors, cleaning up my desk, and taking long long lunches, I didn't feel I had an ass to save.
So I told him the truth. I said I was working on 'me work'.
'Me work?' he looked confused and vaguely offended.
I told him I was working on my web site. I said it plainly and nonchalantly, without a trace of arrogance or anger in my voice. There was no reason to lie about it. I clearly was not doing Work Work, even though I had no Work Work to do. Lying simply would have insulted his intelligence.
He said, 'Oh,' quietly, and left.
Fifteen minutes later, I was being told, by phone by my old boss, that my last day was Friday. The Big Boss either didn't have the balls to confront me in person, or was so mad that he couldn't see me again without wanting to choke me. In either case, I was told to collect my things, forfeit my keys and security pass, and leave the premises ASAP. So I did. I ceded most of the bobblehead dolls on my desk, which had been acquired through the attrition of other ex-employees. I also had to leave behind a small library of books I'd accumulated from piles destined for the dump--I always hate to see books get thrown out, even if it's the 1992 NY Knicks Yearbook. I only took with me some cutlery, Mets programs I'd worked on, and a ceramic Mike Piazza jersey pencil holder. My former supervisor assured me I would be paid for the time I'd given notice for, plus my leftover vacation days. 20 minutes after my grave offense, I was in the brisk air of Lexington Avenue, a free man with a week and a half of unscheduled paid vacation. An hour later, I was at the gym, treadmilling through my new found freedom.
The website entry that got me drummed out of the office has been posted to the site, disguised as an entry from today. I decided to play it safe and not post this tale there, for fear of any more bitter reprisals. Me, I will continue to believe in the truth, because the truth set me free from another meaningless week and a half at a job I was leaving anyway--and paid me for my insolence.