If I were the type to get all weepy in the face of kindness—and if I were the type to wear mascara in a non-football-photo kind of setting—I’d have some serious smeary-face issues today.
The fact that my friends and colleagues started networking for me mere moments after I got laid off is pretty amazing. It’s a professional courtesy that happens pretty regularly in the face of layoffs—and I’ve done the same thing for other people on many occasions—but when people do it for you it takes on a whole new significance … and it takes a HUGE ugly weight off your shoulders. And it makes you feel loved, albeit in a non-sexual, office-appropriate, highly professional, no-need-to-involve-HR kind of way. Except for the part where we touch tummies.
This networking (and follow-uping and put-in-a-good-wording) has generated about five serious job leads including interviews. (Dress shoes! Matching up ties and shirts and suits! ACK! I’m so not gay that way!) All within 48 hours of the layoffs. I’m not out of the unemployment woods yet, but I have every reason to believe I’m gonna make it after all. And sooner than later.
And then there are your comments on my post about the layoff. I mean really. All I’ve ever done for you people is tell poop jokes and make fun of Ann Coulter. And maybe once in a while ask for money. Or a kidney. And your outpouring of support and good wishes and even legitimate job leads is nothing short of beautiful. I’m talking Nick Lachey beautiful. Sibelius’ Second Symphony beautiful. Cookie dough ice cream beautiful. Romantic Date Guy beautiful.
(And have you seen the comments count? 35 at this posting! I don’t think I normally get 35 comments in a week. I feel so Joe.My.God right now!)
So thank you. And when I get my new job and get my ass moved (there is moving drama I haven’t even BEGUN to cover here) and RDG gets back from his ridiculously long business trip and back in my arms where he belongs, we can all sit down and have a good laugh over the events of late 2006.
But in the mean time, I have to go touch up my mascara.