Would you read this book? Chapter 1

1 My Job Is Going Away

The writing had been on the wall for a number of years, but like using a chemical to activate disappearing ink, it took the right combination of circumstances for me to see it – and by the time I could read the writing after the fact, this whole event was history.

Monday, September 10, 2007 was a very sad day at a large insurance company in St. Louis County, Missouri.  Individual employees in the Information Technology department of this company were being taken from their workspaces one at a time by supervisors into closed rooms, and came back sobbing.  It was like a slow death, an impending doom that was spreading by word of mouth like wildfire through the department, among those sitting in their cubicles awaiting their turn to be tapped on the shoulder, or perhaps be spared.

Meanwhile, at a luxurious all-inclusive resort in Playa Del Carmen, Mexico, my husband Stu and I were sipping cocktails poolside, totally unaware of the corporate blood bath taking place hundreds of miles away.  

My job had been particularly stressful in recent months, since my company had been taken over by a larger company, and there were rampant rumors of layoffs or job relocations or any of a number of other things.  This situation, on top of the already stressful work involved in maintaining a large software system that was designed and coded in a big hurry to meet management deadlines, resulted in a fairly relentless diet of daily stress for myself and my coworkers.  

We struggled each day to fix the ever-growing laundry list of system problems, and tried our best to comply with the rigorous new procedures for coding, testing and implementing scheduled system releases.  Meanwhile, there were unscheduled emergency mini-releases, calls from system users who needed a work-around, and nearly constant requests for data fixing to correct system errors.  

Work was hardly a picnic, and the vacation that we were taking was a much needed break.  Little did I know that it might well be my last such luxury vacation in my life.

Stu and I were both employed full time and fairly well paid at this time:  I, in my 26th year as a mainframe computer programmer in the St. Louis MO area, and he, as an Activities Director and Property Manager for an upscale active retiree housing community for over 5 years.  

My continued employment since college had allowed me to live independently and comfortably throughout my adult life.  In 1999, the year I married Stu, it had also allowed us as a newly-formed family (myself, Stu, and his two sons, Ben-13 and Josh-10) to move into a really good school district for the boys’ sake.  

We had not only a four-bedroom, 2.5 bedroom ranch house with a fully finished basement in this upscale neighborhood, but we had also purchased a villa unit in the community where Stu was working.  This was partly an investment property, but even more, a convenience for Stu and I both to have a place to stay over weekends when night events were held at the community as part of his job.  

Stu often stayed over out at the villa in order to do other social things as well after his workday ended, mostly playing golf.  He had even managed to get me involved in golf with him and the residents, after buying me pink and purple golf clubs and our taking lessons together.  

We had a cute little golf cart which was fun for riding around the nine-hole course on the property – the riding around was actually more fun for me than trying to drive a golf ball for any distance without inspiring laughter from myself and other spectators.

So, whether or not we fully appreciated it at the time, life was good for us to a large degree.  We had health insurance through my employer and were able to seek treatment for our physical and mental issues as needed.  We didn’t worry about money and probably had more “toys” than anyone would ever need.  

Our boys were doing fairly well; the older one was away at college and the younger one was attending community college in town and living with us, and was able to dog-sit for us while we vacationed in Mexico.  

We had been through several very rough years with the death of both of Stu’s dear parents, most recently his father who had lived with us for close to two years after his mother’s death.  

It had been a tumultuous time for our family in terms of losing both of Stu’s parents in just under two years, but we were grieving and working through our issues, as well as Stu’s executor duties for his parents’ estate, by putting one foot in front of the other.

We were both very grateful to be able to get away to such a lovely place as our favorite all-inclusive resort in Mexico.  The beautiful surroundings, the huge pool, the wonderful gourmet meals and snacks – all of these played a large role in helping us to relax and get away from the daily life stresses we had back in Missouri.

It wasn’t until we arrived back to our home on Wednesday afternoon that I realized something was horribly wrong.  In checking my work email from home, there were some communications that said (and failed to say) some very unsettling things.  

There was one calendar meeting invitation from Human Resources that had mysteriously been issued to me and then recalled.  There was also a suspicious lack of the routine work communications I would have seen on my third work day out of office.  

Since it wasn’t yet time for all my coworkers to be gone from work for the day, I sent a couple of quick emails to my closest female coworker, Ann, and my boss, Kathy, just saying I was back in town and wondering how things were there.  Both of these women could be counted on to reply to emails almost immediately, at least with a couple of words of welcome back, so when I didn’t receive a reply from either, I had to pick up the phone and start calling around to various coworkers’ phones.

I did finally reach one of my coworkers, who immediately said that she couldn’t discuss what was going on, so I said I would just ask questions.  

At first she protested and said “you should hear this from H.R.”, but I insisted and asked a couple of questions.  

“Have people in our area been laid off?” 

“Yes.”

“A few or a lot?” 

“A lot.”

“Is your job going away?” 

“Yes.”

“Is mine?” 

“Yes.”

I expressed my condolences and thanks to her for giving me at least enough information to not be blindsided at work the next day.  I also knew that I would need to do my best to NOT cry while I was being given the official word from H.R. and with supervisors present.  I was to do most of my crying that night instead of sleeping.

I shared what information I had with my husband and younger stepson immediately, and I was crying quite a bit at that point in time.  The three of us went out to dinner at one of our favorite local pubs, but that element of joy normally present in dinner out together again as a family after our returning from a trip just wasn’t happening.