2:38 pm I knew my termination was imminent. The eyes of my colleague. His complexion, white. He walked by my office terrified, ghostly. All he could utter was the news would be told before 6.
My meeting was scheduled for anytime before 6.
5:45 pm. I enter. A paper in hand, a relaxed face, ease in my walk. I hand him a well-drafted document, complete with boxes and arrows, updates and Hope. Our company’s options from my POV.
The boss spoke and no defining news was delivered. Relief.
Perhaps, it was the papers. Or perhaps, his nerves.
I left. Able to breathe. But I wondered, would each day hereafter be the same? Prolonging, postponing, barely hanging on . . .
I met my colleague in the evening. He, two sheets to the wind. I sipped two margaritas con sal for dinner. My colleague, anxious and nervous, on edge. He informed me that while seeking approval for our new business cards, my boss took a piece of paper:
A line was drawn–the paper divided in two.
Names were written.
And mine, solely, below.
An artistic way to break the news.
to my colleague, who walked into my boss’s door upon leaving
1 am. I go to sleep happy. My future uncertain. I don’t know where I am going. But this time, I travel without fear. One is never ready. I am most definitely not. I wish I had a cushion. Some pennies to get my through a month. Regardless, things happen for a reason. I do know that I am not supposed to be here, not like this. As always, events transpire to disrupt that of which I myself have not. I procrastinate and lack lust. I forgot how to dream. I stopped growing. And I knew it was changing, not how or when. Soon. My thoughts in bed were to get through this month. And search. For what I don’t know.
7:30 am. I woke up today. Avoiding. Prolonging. Hoping, the news would wait.
The boss offered me a ride to work.
9am. Named me as Executive Vice President in an email.
11:55am. My colleague sauntered into my office, a mock-up of the new business cards in hand- Attaining Me, Vice President, 8 x 10. The contact info for me to approve. A small red order number written at the top- 500. My colleague’s face shines.
I am but a human yo-yo.
1:25pm. My string was cut. I am here until the end of the month. 13 days. A miracle would bring a different future. But now, the energy is quiet, calm. No prolonging news. No waiting. I still don’t know what February will bring or if a miracle will come. I am not sure where I am supposed to go. I left a life in New York for this job. Do I return, release the hold? But I think of a slight dream, a dream borne with my colleague. And I know why his face was white. I also know the places you go are for a reason. Be it someone you meet or something you learn . . I did learn balance here. And there is a possibility of a continued life in PR, my colleague, a dream
13 days to decide. To move jobless to New York. Or commit jobless to PR.
Whatever it is, I promise-
– 2008 was a year of balance and
– 2009, a year will I will dream, an activity that shouldn’t be lost on children. I welcome the images. Colorful dreams. Technicolor.