Pissed off and Post-it's

Today has been a nice change of pace.  Today, I am furious.  My previous job has become a bad breakup.  No longer the “thanks for all the great memories we are moving on as better people thankful for the experience” breakup.  Nope, it has developed into more of the type of relationship you have in your early 20’s.  You know, the pretty but damaged boy, the kind that plays drums, consistently forgets to call laying a solid foundation of self-doubt in the relationship,  has a futon on the floor and no checking account – that is where we are. 

And true to form, at first, I behaved like that insecure twenty-year-old girlfriend that attaches herself to the bad boy.

It was my dream job, the one I always wanted, pursued relentlessly and, when I got it, only half believed that such good fortune could be mine.  I was the starry eyed girl adoring and loving the hell out of my “job in a leather jacket.”  I talked about it to all my friends, couldn’t help but bring it into every conversation and never once was unfaithful.  I LOVED my job.  I would go out of my way to be sure that I not only did my work, I OVER did it and had it finished early.  I was constantly trying to come up with ways to make my job happy by staying up late to streamline processes or putting together a PowerPoint with animation and music.  I was the over excited, slightly clingy girl that loved her job maybe just a bit more than it loved me.  

And, as these things often do, it turned into a bad relationship slowly, and then all at once.  I found that emails, and calls were not returned, unless it had to do with something negative, but it was ok, I just figured “hey, things are busy right now, don’t worry about it.”  So I threw myself into making things even better - I organized graduation, I put together prom,  developed action plans, I over documented and spent time learning new system platforms.  I was unsettled by the shift in my relationship, but I just figured it was a rough spell.

Then I got my “Dear John” letter and it devastated me.  “Thank you for your service.  Your contract will not be renewed.  Please return all equipment immediately.”  I stared at the email for several minutes mouth agape.  Why?  I did my best.  Better than my best- I reached for greatness.  Why didn’t my job want me? And if that wasn’t enough, the break up was on email?  Really?  I think this clip from the TV show “Sex and the City” sums up what it feels like when you get the email….or “post-it” as the case may be- you can see it here: The Post-it 1  Reliving the experience, I am moving through the “stages of grief” from pathetic longing that stems from shock and pain, and into the, ‘oh so much more empowering stage of anger.  I love this stage.  As with any shitty break-up the aftermath started by leaving me breathless – there was desperate sadness that the job I loved so much didn’t want me for reasons I could only guess at.  So I emailed, called, even “dropped by” in the hope that I could get “closure” some “answers” really anything.  But there were no emails returned, no phone calls answered and at some point the remaining shreds of my dignity demanded I stop begging on the door step and just move on.  And that is when the anger came  in and it has given me all kinds of proactive energy.  I have found myself burning with fury at the shittiness of the whole thing. Here is a clip from later in the episode when Carrie confronts her ex’s friends- just click here:  The Post-It 2…..I so relate to the fury.  I too deserved an explanation.  Two years of my life, for what, a “this has been great, but it’s just not working; It’s not you, it’s just business” email?  The unfairness of the whole situation still has me shaking on the inside.  

And then, to add serious insult to injury, I’ve been called into a court hearing. It would appear that my former place of employment is contesting the fact that I am claiming unemployment benefits.  Normally, this would have caused an outburst of tears but right now all I feel is PISSED OFF.  They fired me and now they are upset that I am claiming what is mine?  It is a good thing I am in the anger stage grief.  Instead of curling up in bed and crying myself to sleep over a glass of wine at two in the afternoon, I marched my ass to an attorney’s office and got some legal representation. 

Sitting in my lawyer’s office it felt nice to vent about how I was treated badly - I was used and then tossed to the side.  How hurt I was to find out that my position was posted before I was even let go.  But the great thing about anger is that makes you feel powerful, no longer a victim.  I may not be the most amazing employee to grace the face of this planet but, damn it, I sure as hell am not the worst, and I know I deserve better. 

The seven stages of grief state that depression will be what hits me next, but while the anger lasts, I am going to let it rebuild all the self-doubt that this bad break-up left me with, remember the lessons that I am learning and try to choose better the next time around.  Bad boys, bad jobs and bad relationships– in the end they all break up with you on something like a post-it.