TSawyer84
02-04-2010, 10:25 PM
I'm going on 5 months of unemployment. In this time period, I fought my wrongful termination, got scammed out of $300 at a gas station, befriended a homeless piano player, self-published a 1,500 word article on the internet, self-titled myself a "consultant", went on one bogus job interview (and declined the offer), became a staple at the local chamber of commerce, went on a legitimate job interview (and never got called), had a brief foray in entrepreneurship, escaped injury in a car accident, and watched my first love fade away.
Tonight was a typical night in the life of an ex-slave of corporate America. After some late night coffee with one of my best friends, I revved up the engine of my freshly repaired Nissan Sentra and headed back home. Through the foggy windshield I gazed up at the white winter moon and wondered to myself if this period of my life would be coming to an end soon.
The voice of my old college friend Brendan echoed in my mind as I remembered the night I told him I was placed on a 90 Day Action Plan at work back in May. That was when my life was thrown into a state of panic, and I considered enlisting in the Navy. After a breathless rant about how I believed my career was over, there was a silent pause before his reply.
"You need to just calm down, man. They aren't going to fire you if you do your job well," he said.
"It doesn't matter if I do my job well. My boss wants to get rid of me. I know it," I said.
"Then just give it the old college try, and if she fires you, she fires you. But don't go enlisting in the military."
"You don't understand. There are no jobs out there. If I lose this, what am I going to do? I need a career. I can't take this corporate **** anymore. I lost my first job, and now I'm about to lose this one. I'm not meant for this ****."
"Listen. There are plenty of jobs out there to pay the bills. You may not be working in an office, but there are jobs out there that you can have. There's a million other things you could do instead of going into the military. Let's say you lose your job and get fired. You could up and move to San Francisco, or someplace, get some job at a restaurant, which you could, meet a whole new circle of friends, bang a bunch of new girls, and have a new life. It would be like your old life and old job never even existed. There is a lot worse things that can happen to you. The absolute worst thing that could happen to you is that you go back home to live with your parents, which you are lucky to have. Don't be sweating this stuff. Life is good. Things change and people change, but life is good. You can't have bad luck forever..."
As the story goes, I did get fired. I never moved to San Francisco, though. And thankfully, I never joined the Navy.
These days, I don't do much of anything. Most of what I accomplish is in the first hour of consciousness. I wake up every morning and stumble out of bed around 10 o'clock and check the ol' email. Then I stand in front of the bathroom sink and brush my teeth. After I spit out a mouthful of toothpaste, I look at myself in the mirror for a few moments. I'm so vain that when I hear people talk about a recession, I get nervous and think that they are talking about my hairline. I run the back of my fingers against my stubbly cheeks and decline to shave, as always.
I walk back over to my bed and put on the dirty pair of Levi's that lay beside it on the floor. I don the dirty wife beater, throw on my blue Stafford blazer, and slip on my pine-colored loafers.
I walk into the empty kitchen, eat two slices of bread and swallow 4 vitamins with a glass of Metamucil. Then I mix a protein shake and drink that. I grab The Chalice - a travel mug that has a lid covered with crusty brown resin from the coffee that I pour into it every day.
I head out the front door and down three flights of stairs to my car. I cruise right up the road to Starbucks, a staple in my daily routine. Going to Starbucks is like checking my email. Every day I hope to find something interesting, but I usually don't.
"What can I get for you today?" my favorite Coffee Master flatly asks me.
No surprise to her, it's coffee with room for milk. I hand her The Chalice, my disgusting beverage receptacle that has more in common with an ashtray than a piece of drinkware. As she washes out the remnants of yesterday morning's caffeine fix, my eyes peruse the venue in search of my dream girl. Where is she? I look conspicuously for her sparkling gaze but only see a bearded Gen-Xer with horn rimmed glasses sitting at a table in front of a white Mac laptop.
"Here you go," the Coffee Master says as she hands me the freshly filled Chalice. It's as warm as a kitten's belly.
As I walk over to the sugar stand to add a touch of whole milk I spot the wall paper on the Gen Xer's computer monitor. I see the image of a sandy white beach with palm trees curling outward towards the great blue ocean. I look down at my filthy coffee cup and stir a pinch of milk into the brown sludge. I stir it, and stir it, and stir it, and find myself staring blankly at the swirling center. My mind drifts off and I spend just a moment's time wondering where I would be if I could go anywhere that I wanted.
I imagine a misty beach island like St. Thomas. In the mountain that overlooks the frosty white cove, I see a large house tucked away in the rich tropical vegetation. Palm trees cover the mountain like a coat of lush green fur, with colorful flowers sprinkled throughout. When I walk inside the house, the first thing I see is the ocean, as the windows outside the living room are facing the blue horizon. I can feel the change in temperature as I go deeper inside it. It could be 100 degrees outside without the steady breeze, but inside the house it is shady and cool. Outside the sliding glass door I see a cement pool deck surrounded by an iron fence covered with vines and nothing but the downside of the mountain beyond it. I can see people down below on the beach with their umbrellas decorating the white sands like M&M’s in vanilla ice cream. On the deck there is a pool that is shaped like a half-moon with a hot tub that sits atop steps above it. There is a waterfall that flows down from the hot tub into the pool. The blue water shines like a Topaz in the August sun.
And then I see myself, sitting in the pool, leaned back against the ledge. I’m wearing large polarized sunglasses that reflect the cloudless summer sky. I hear the patio door open and see a pretty brunette come out of the house wearing a white bikini with a flower in her hair. She slips inside the water next to me and tickles my nose with the flower. She smiles warmly with easy charm and swims away towards the deep center. She disappears underwater and then surfaces with only her smiling face showing.
“I’m too short for the deep end and I can’t swim anymore!” she shouts over to me like a giggling child.
I swim towards her slowly like a crocodile and wrap her in my arms. I plant a kiss on her mouth and her lips taste like strawberries. I look over her shoulder and see her white bikini bottom floating on the surface towards the waterfall.
I look deep into her hypnotic brown eyes, and realize I am not staring through the window to her soul. I am staring at freshly poured coffee, with a dash of whole milk. I snap myself out of my trance and look back at the Gen Xer's computer screen. The picture of the tropical landscape is gone. He's on iTunes now.
I place the crusty lid on my ubiquitous travel coffee cup and push through the front door outside. The cold bite of the February air dries out my eyes as I reach into my pocket for my car keys.
It sure got cloudy all of a sudden, I think to myself.
And that's when the raindrops steadily begin falling to the ground.
Excerpt from Diary of a Corporate Burnout (http://diaryofacorporateburnout.blogspot.com/)
Tonight was a typical night in the life of an ex-slave of corporate America. After some late night coffee with one of my best friends, I revved up the engine of my freshly repaired Nissan Sentra and headed back home. Through the foggy windshield I gazed up at the white winter moon and wondered to myself if this period of my life would be coming to an end soon.
The voice of my old college friend Brendan echoed in my mind as I remembered the night I told him I was placed on a 90 Day Action Plan at work back in May. That was when my life was thrown into a state of panic, and I considered enlisting in the Navy. After a breathless rant about how I believed my career was over, there was a silent pause before his reply.
"You need to just calm down, man. They aren't going to fire you if you do your job well," he said.
"It doesn't matter if I do my job well. My boss wants to get rid of me. I know it," I said.
"Then just give it the old college try, and if she fires you, she fires you. But don't go enlisting in the military."
"You don't understand. There are no jobs out there. If I lose this, what am I going to do? I need a career. I can't take this corporate **** anymore. I lost my first job, and now I'm about to lose this one. I'm not meant for this ****."
"Listen. There are plenty of jobs out there to pay the bills. You may not be working in an office, but there are jobs out there that you can have. There's a million other things you could do instead of going into the military. Let's say you lose your job and get fired. You could up and move to San Francisco, or someplace, get some job at a restaurant, which you could, meet a whole new circle of friends, bang a bunch of new girls, and have a new life. It would be like your old life and old job never even existed. There is a lot worse things that can happen to you. The absolute worst thing that could happen to you is that you go back home to live with your parents, which you are lucky to have. Don't be sweating this stuff. Life is good. Things change and people change, but life is good. You can't have bad luck forever..."
As the story goes, I did get fired. I never moved to San Francisco, though. And thankfully, I never joined the Navy.
These days, I don't do much of anything. Most of what I accomplish is in the first hour of consciousness. I wake up every morning and stumble out of bed around 10 o'clock and check the ol' email. Then I stand in front of the bathroom sink and brush my teeth. After I spit out a mouthful of toothpaste, I look at myself in the mirror for a few moments. I'm so vain that when I hear people talk about a recession, I get nervous and think that they are talking about my hairline. I run the back of my fingers against my stubbly cheeks and decline to shave, as always.
I walk back over to my bed and put on the dirty pair of Levi's that lay beside it on the floor. I don the dirty wife beater, throw on my blue Stafford blazer, and slip on my pine-colored loafers.
I walk into the empty kitchen, eat two slices of bread and swallow 4 vitamins with a glass of Metamucil. Then I mix a protein shake and drink that. I grab The Chalice - a travel mug that has a lid covered with crusty brown resin from the coffee that I pour into it every day.
I head out the front door and down three flights of stairs to my car. I cruise right up the road to Starbucks, a staple in my daily routine. Going to Starbucks is like checking my email. Every day I hope to find something interesting, but I usually don't.
"What can I get for you today?" my favorite Coffee Master flatly asks me.
No surprise to her, it's coffee with room for milk. I hand her The Chalice, my disgusting beverage receptacle that has more in common with an ashtray than a piece of drinkware. As she washes out the remnants of yesterday morning's caffeine fix, my eyes peruse the venue in search of my dream girl. Where is she? I look conspicuously for her sparkling gaze but only see a bearded Gen-Xer with horn rimmed glasses sitting at a table in front of a white Mac laptop.
"Here you go," the Coffee Master says as she hands me the freshly filled Chalice. It's as warm as a kitten's belly.
As I walk over to the sugar stand to add a touch of whole milk I spot the wall paper on the Gen Xer's computer monitor. I see the image of a sandy white beach with palm trees curling outward towards the great blue ocean. I look down at my filthy coffee cup and stir a pinch of milk into the brown sludge. I stir it, and stir it, and stir it, and find myself staring blankly at the swirling center. My mind drifts off and I spend just a moment's time wondering where I would be if I could go anywhere that I wanted.
I imagine a misty beach island like St. Thomas. In the mountain that overlooks the frosty white cove, I see a large house tucked away in the rich tropical vegetation. Palm trees cover the mountain like a coat of lush green fur, with colorful flowers sprinkled throughout. When I walk inside the house, the first thing I see is the ocean, as the windows outside the living room are facing the blue horizon. I can feel the change in temperature as I go deeper inside it. It could be 100 degrees outside without the steady breeze, but inside the house it is shady and cool. Outside the sliding glass door I see a cement pool deck surrounded by an iron fence covered with vines and nothing but the downside of the mountain beyond it. I can see people down below on the beach with their umbrellas decorating the white sands like M&M’s in vanilla ice cream. On the deck there is a pool that is shaped like a half-moon with a hot tub that sits atop steps above it. There is a waterfall that flows down from the hot tub into the pool. The blue water shines like a Topaz in the August sun.
And then I see myself, sitting in the pool, leaned back against the ledge. I’m wearing large polarized sunglasses that reflect the cloudless summer sky. I hear the patio door open and see a pretty brunette come out of the house wearing a white bikini with a flower in her hair. She slips inside the water next to me and tickles my nose with the flower. She smiles warmly with easy charm and swims away towards the deep center. She disappears underwater and then surfaces with only her smiling face showing.
“I’m too short for the deep end and I can’t swim anymore!” she shouts over to me like a giggling child.
I swim towards her slowly like a crocodile and wrap her in my arms. I plant a kiss on her mouth and her lips taste like strawberries. I look over her shoulder and see her white bikini bottom floating on the surface towards the waterfall.
I look deep into her hypnotic brown eyes, and realize I am not staring through the window to her soul. I am staring at freshly poured coffee, with a dash of whole milk. I snap myself out of my trance and look back at the Gen Xer's computer screen. The picture of the tropical landscape is gone. He's on iTunes now.
I place the crusty lid on my ubiquitous travel coffee cup and push through the front door outside. The cold bite of the February air dries out my eyes as I reach into my pocket for my car keys.
It sure got cloudy all of a sudden, I think to myself.
And that's when the raindrops steadily begin falling to the ground.
Excerpt from Diary of a Corporate Burnout (http://diaryofacorporateburnout.blogspot.com/)