Today I went to go and turn in my computer to my former place of employment and was really looking forward to giving my former boss the “finger” with my eyes…you know, because I am so mature. But she wasn’t there, so that was disappointing. My guess is that she isn’t really thinking much about me, at least not nearly as much I am thinking about her. My mind dallies on just the typical things - imagining that she ruins the organization and leaves surrounded by disgrace and shame as the administration and Governing Board beg me back realizing the error of their ways in letting such an excellent employee go. I politely decline at first, so busy with my successful writing career that I fear I will be unable to offer the position my full attention. But they continue to beg me, so as my former employer cleans out her desk and slinks away, I humbly take the post guided by altruistic motives and save the organization. Oh , and her boyfriend dumps her too. Like I said, just the typical things.
I know, I know…I am supposed be surrounding myself with things that bring me joy, I am supposed to be seeing that this is a blessing in disguise and moving on, surprising the hell out of everyone by how well I am doing. But that was “me” last week. “Me” today is hoping my former boss maybe has her identity stolen by a couple of cracked out college kids on a shopping spree in Europe. Recovery is a sliding scale.
The cliché says, “it isn’t personal, it’s business.” I am going to tell you a truth – it is business when you are the person who is firing people, it is personal when you are the one left without a job. After delighting myself for an embarrassingly long time thinking about my former boss stubbing her pinky toe on the sharp edges of furniture repeatedly or being led away in handcuffs for aiding terrorists or something, I started asking myself “why?” Why is this so personal to me? I was becoming increasingly unhappy at my job, my boss obviously did not want me there, I DO only want joyful things in my life, and, strangely enough, this situation has actually jump started my passion for writing again– so WHY do I still imagine scenarios where my former boss finds her car egged and tires slashed?
The answer shocked me almost as much as I am sure it is going to shock you – the reason I am sitting on the toilet thinking about the day her house catches on fire and all her photographs and favorite shoes are destroyed is because she bruised the hell out of my pride. I mean, she didn’t want me….ME, as an employee!!! I told you, you would be shocked. Who wouldn’t want me? Smart, educated, fun…maybe a little scattered at times, with opinions I should keep to myself, and the tiniest of control issues, but come on, those things are adorable. To me. And Mr. W. Ok, my husband just informed me that those last three are maybe not my strongest selling point (but I think that is just his way of telling me I am practically perfect in every way). Oh, and I sometimes have trouble really hearing what people are saying to me.
I guess there is some small comfort realizing that the reason this situation still smarts has less to do with losing a job and more to do with my own bruised ego…and maybe having to face a few teeny tiny areas I might need to work on. But, as Anne Lamott writes, “Being ok is going to have to be an inside job.” I can’t hustle for worthiness through my job, or my education or just being so damn fucking fantastic everybody should want me to work for them. Nope. It is going to have to come from being enough. On the inside. Even without a job. Even with the itty bitty flaws I possess. My pride WILL stop smarting…and it will probably happen the moment I start facing the areas in my own life that could use a tune up. This is not that moment, however - right now I am still enjoying the hell out of thinking about the boss lady’s house burning down again. But this time she only lost her shoes, not photographs. Baby steps. I’ll get there.
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