So I got the ax. I don’t know how else to describe it. Using the word “ax” sort of exudes the feeling I have every time I say it. I had a feeling it was coming when my boss was evasive about his plans for coming to Richmond. He wouldn’t tell me exactly when he was arriving. He didn’t need me to pick him up. He had no specific plans other than to meet our new director of sales. It all seemed a bit loose for a guy who is so scheduled and uptight his shoe laces squeak.
So being the “investigative reporter” that I pride myself to be, I called the hotel he said he was staying at. That is one thing he did tell me! I asked the receptionist if (names withheld) HR person one or HR person two had reservations for a late arrival. And low and behold, HR person 2’s name was on the reservation list along with my boss. So, my instincts and gut were right.
Then I told my family so they wouldn’t be shocked. I felt like I was walking off the plank of a ship as I got dressed that morning and drove to meet him at 7:30am for breakfast at the hotel. He was sitting alone near the door of the lobby when I walked in. said hello and went to give him a friendly greeting hug, and he stiffened and said, “This isn’t a hugging kind of day.” Gulp.
What a cold thing to say, I thought. Of all days, this would be the day I would NEED hugs. But alas, they would not be from him. So he then said, follow me. I followed him into the bar area of the lobby where there to my welcoming eyes sat HR person 2, just as I had anticipated. I said my good mornings, and sat down. Then, with no explanation, No comment. He said, “Linda, we’ve decided to make a change in Richmond.” Surprise, surprise. I had rehersed my reply for hours. I would say nothing. I would take the envelope, stand up, and say, “OK, good-bye.” He then said, do you have keys to the office with you? I said, “Yes, in the car.” So he followed me to the car and I purposely walked way ahead of him as if he didn’t think it was a huggin kind of day, let me also say it wasn’t a polite kind of day for me either.
When I got to my car, ahead of him, I grabbed my keys, pulled off the ones he needed, and handed them to him. I said, “Good bye. Good Luck.” And I left. Fuck him.
There, I said it. What an ass when it all comes down to it. He couldn’t treat me as a human being. A professional? At least back when I got merged out of Clear Channel, they let me hold a meeting and say good bye to my staff. I didn’t do it though.
So this time, the minute I got in my car, knowing that they would be shutting off my email any second if they hadn’t already, I quickly signed into my email and sent a full staff email out tell folks Good-bye and take care. I wanted to have the last word to them. I wanted to leave with my head held high and my dignity as I had given my all to that organization for over 11 years.
What a tacky way to end it. I know they were afraid I’d sue for age discrimination. I also knew they had discussed not saying a word to me. Just handing me the envelope. It’s all very clear to me. It’s just as someone on the receiving end, it sucks. I am much more humane than that. I care more for people than that. Especially people who have done a great job for the company as I had. So they want to cut my position, move someone in at a lower salary. Fine. But, they didn’t have to be so cold.
I will always remember this moment. Their Karma will come back to them. Just wait. It happens and it is the way of the world.
Why do I start something and never finish? I had every intention of writing the first chapter of my book by the end of February. This is crazy. I have to get my act together.
One more vacation day then back to work. I have promised myself I would publish the first chapter of my book before February ends. So this is it.
I love it here. I love life. I want to live to be at least 100. I figure in the next 20 years, I could have every single loose body part tightened, and all non functioning parts replaced. Sure, why not? I am planning on it. I’m too afraid of dying to think there could be an end to my life. So, I’ll think about that tomorrow.
This entry is a rambling of thoughts. A prologue to my intention. I have stories to tell. There are many events and circumstances that brought me here. When I tell these stories, there are people who cannot believe I really experienced these events. On the surface, I’m such a normal person who should have very normal life stories. Raised in the South by first generation American born children of Immigrants. Jewish. Southern. My Mother was a raging liberal democrat, and my father actually liked Richard Nixon. I attribute that to the fact that they both were Capricorns. That is the only justification I can muster.
I followed my Mother’s leanings. Let’s face it, I was a child of the Baby Boom. We ARE the generation of Women’s Liberation. Equal Rights. Birth Control. Free Love, Superwomen. And forever young we will be.
My Mother set the stage for me to have an open mind. She truly did. My Mother never knew a stranger. She would talk to anyone, anywhere. I guess that is how I became a bit fearless. But the reason I became a control freak is clearly defined to me.
I was about 4 or 5 years old, when my Mother took my sister, Lois and I downtown with her on the bus (she didn’t drive back then), to see Kookie, Kookie, Lend Me Your Comb…don’t remember his name, but he was a “hunk of a guy” who starred in a TV show we all loved called, “77 Sunset Strip.”
To tell you just how boring Richmond was back then…they closed Broad Street for a parade for him. It was a huge deal. I remember feeling like there were thousands of screaming women and girls trying to get a glimpse of him as he drove by in a convertible. I never actually saw him. It seems he was just about to be in front of us, when the crowd swarmed around me and my hand slipped from my Mother’s grasp. In an instant, I was lost. Carried away by the taller than me screaming women who were pressing against me so hard, I couldn’t breathe. I was panicked. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. I lost my Mother and I had to get out of there or I was going to die. So somehow I made my way out of the swarm, and found daylight. Immediately, I started crying as I realized that although I was free now and could actually breathe, I couldn’t see my Mother and I was going to be lost forever. As I stood there crying, a few women approached me and asked my name and as I was telling them, I looked up and there she was! My Mother! She was running to me, screaming, “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you. Why did you let go of my hand?”
Let go of her hand? I let go of her hand? It was MY fault that I was lost. I had done something wrong for the first time in my life. I had been a bad girl. I had done the unthinkable. I let go of my Mother’s hand and got lost. And BRAVO, that was the moment, the instant that I became a “control freak.” From that moment on, I was the most “in control” little girl in the world. I was always aware of my surroundings. I would NEVER get lost again. And as I grew up, I was became the perfect child in class. Very adult. Never lost in the moment. Always aware of what was going on around me. I was going to be “in control.” I would never get lost again. Because if I did, it would prove that there was obviously something terribly wrong with me. So you can imagine how teachers loved me. I became the “teacher’s pet.” Very mature for my age. Quite a helper. And also, not able to have very much fun…really. Because, who can have fun when they are ALWAYS in total control all the time? Big responsibility for a young girl. And I became very good at it.