Last July, I discovered myself unemployed. Unemployment was a thing which happened to others. And when it happened to others, I was always there sincerely offering my shoulders along with the necessary words of comfort. Yet, when the gong chimed for me, I was, surprisingly, unsurprised and far from unimaginably appalled.  There are just some things upon which you can depend. A centipede has many limbs; a snake none. Scavengers will always be lovers of carrion.

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In novels, there would have been thunder and lightning, or something just as fantastic, foreshadowing my impending doom. But there the sun was- shining in its apathetic glory and my spirits were beyond buoyant. I wanted to be outside. I wanted to be anywhere but in that office that morning.

I sat there- half in the room and half out of it. I kept a straight face throughout, or at least, I hope I kept a straight face throughout.  I even paid attention to some of what was being said and done. The well-played regretful smile-sigh of one. The silence of the other two. The empty “we really didn’t want to do this….” I was stuck between thinking so many things and being so incredibly blank. It was such a beautiful day outside.

When finally freed, my first instinct was to laugh most heartily inwardly. Before I could, a family member called. She screamed, all banshee-like, her disbelief at the news. I comforted her, almost laughing at my having to comfort her. I made the rounds saying goodbye to those who were present. I got a call from a particular editor.

I waited for a friend to show up.  We spent the afternoon working on a project. Every now and then, I caught myself thinking: “is it normal to be able to focus this keenly after that earlier event?” I gave a mental smirk to the personal effects I'd cleared out of my desk long before the earlier meeting. I'd never felt safe with verbal promises. Besides, for months, every day had brought some worse news of the company's chairman- R. Allen Stanford- and his alleged "massive ponzi scheme".

Later, I discovered myself finally all alone at home. One minute, I was watching some horrible television show. The next minute, I was flooding with unadulterated resentment. I was still unsurprised at what had transpired. I was tired and didn’t want to think about anything.Yet my gut would not quit. It kept repeating that I did nothing to deserve this. It assured me that, far from what I’d been taught, there was nothing wrong with a bit of resentment.

Right behind my gut was my traitorous memory paying homage to all those who had warned: “don’t act like you invented work”. It whistled casually as it replayed all the moments I’d offered up: “I can’t tonight- I have lots of work to do”. It nominated those who had asked “why do you insist on working like a slave?”  And it, quite liberally, handed out awards to those who had cautioned “you go ahead, they will get rid of you without a before or an afterthought.”

Episodes looped in my head like reruns of a really bad season of some utterly bad reality show. Fade-ins, fade-outs and varying soundtracks; the whole gang was there to trumpet all the sacrifices I'd made. Thoughts of the many times work came before ME threatened to sicken. Through all of this, a noticeable and most foul stench crept.  It was a familiar stench- one I'd always gotten little whiffs of during my working days and at nights in my nightmares. It almost overpowered me- this stench of betrayed love and unrequited loyalty.

Coming Next Tuesday: #2 Surviving Unemployment