21 days
I've always hated rollercoasters.
Which is extremely strange considering how large of an adrenaline junkie I've become over the years.
But I hate rollercoasters. It's slightly ironic that my life has become one.
A month ago I was on top of the world. I was a man who had everything going for him. I was at peace with my place in life. I got up each morning honestly looking forward to the day, with a big smile on my face. I actually looked forward to each and every coming day in my life.
Present day?
I feel like throwing my alarm clock across the room. I really wish I could just curl up on my floor, buried under every single pillow I've ever owned and hide from my life. The sun barely peeks across the mountains as I drive my haggard ass to work. As I weave between the Bay Area drivers intent on driving as slowly as fucking possible, I can't help but think what I'm in such a huge hurry for.
2 days ago, the layoffs began. The whispers started a long time ago, but the axe started falling on Friday. I walked into work to be greeted by a sobbing woman pushing the last dredges of her possessions out of the doors, security guard solemnly in tow. She'd been at Linear for 15 years. 15 years of dedicated work, only to be cut.
Throughout the day, people were quietly escorted out. Some didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to the people who they had stood in the trenches with. There were tears, there was angry screaming, tires angrily peeling out of the parking lot. I sat in my cube, headphones on, flinching everytime somebody walked by, afraid that maybe I'd be the next one tossed out.
One of my friends was quietly escorted out the front door. I helped him clean out his cube. He was one of the guys who had shown me the ropes when I had first walked through that very same door.
Word filtered in throughout the day. "Dude, I can't believe they cut her." "Holy shit, he's been here forever." "Oh man, he's got 3 kids and a mortgage." "She didn't even get to say goodbye." "Motherfucker!"
I walked out of the backdoor that day. Relieved that I had a job, for now.
I used to be proud of where I worked. I was a company man, who recited the company line like a little choir boy. I bled analog, I worked hard. But so many of the people who were let go, did the same thing. They were the ones who taught me the company line. Why had they gotten let go over me? Just because I was cheaper? Just because maybe a manager didn't like the way they took early lunches or worked the late shift?
The next week, my company is on mandatory shutdown. We're all supposed to act like it's just a vacation, but the truth is the Valley is in trouble. We're not the only ones. There have been enough layoffs to scare even those that survived the Bubble Burst. This isn't a wave, it's a goddamn tsunami.
I've thrown myself at different things, trying to forget just how scared I actually am. Maybe if I lose myself on the climbing walls I can forget at the real dangers that are so close to home.
Wish me luck.
Which is extremely strange considering how large of an adrenaline junkie I've become over the years.
But I hate rollercoasters. It's slightly ironic that my life has become one.
A month ago I was on top of the world. I was a man who had everything going for him. I was at peace with my place in life. I got up each morning honestly looking forward to the day, with a big smile on my face. I actually looked forward to each and every coming day in my life.
Present day?
I feel like throwing my alarm clock across the room. I really wish I could just curl up on my floor, buried under every single pillow I've ever owned and hide from my life. The sun barely peeks across the mountains as I drive my haggard ass to work. As I weave between the Bay Area drivers intent on driving as slowly as fucking possible, I can't help but think what I'm in such a huge hurry for.
2 days ago, the layoffs began. The whispers started a long time ago, but the axe started falling on Friday. I walked into work to be greeted by a sobbing woman pushing the last dredges of her possessions out of the doors, security guard solemnly in tow. She'd been at Linear for 15 years. 15 years of dedicated work, only to be cut.
Throughout the day, people were quietly escorted out. Some didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to the people who they had stood in the trenches with. There were tears, there was angry screaming, tires angrily peeling out of the parking lot. I sat in my cube, headphones on, flinching everytime somebody walked by, afraid that maybe I'd be the next one tossed out.
One of my friends was quietly escorted out the front door. I helped him clean out his cube. He was one of the guys who had shown me the ropes when I had first walked through that very same door.
Word filtered in throughout the day. "Dude, I can't believe they cut her." "Holy shit, he's been here forever." "Oh man, he's got 3 kids and a mortgage." "She didn't even get to say goodbye." "Motherfucker!"
I walked out of the backdoor that day. Relieved that I had a job, for now.
I used to be proud of where I worked. I was a company man, who recited the company line like a little choir boy. I bled analog, I worked hard. But so many of the people who were let go, did the same thing. They were the ones who taught me the company line. Why had they gotten let go over me? Just because I was cheaper? Just because maybe a manager didn't like the way they took early lunches or worked the late shift?
The next week, my company is on mandatory shutdown. We're all supposed to act like it's just a vacation, but the truth is the Valley is in trouble. We're not the only ones. There have been enough layoffs to scare even those that survived the Bubble Burst. This isn't a wave, it's a goddamn tsunami.
I've thrown myself at different things, trying to forget just how scared I actually am. Maybe if I lose myself on the climbing walls I can forget at the real dangers that are so close to home.
Wish me luck.