santraginus_v (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
santraginus_v) wrote2010-02-21 11:31 am
santraginus_v) wrote2010-02-21 11:31 am
Entry tags:
Lara: Reboot
I lost my job a week ago Thursday.
They "laid me off" which means they paid me a severance package, and the bosses all offered to write recommendation letters. Which is pretty funny, considering they all spent a good six months talking about how much I sucked. The weirdest thing of all, though, wasn't that they got rid of me. I already knew that I was leaving one way or another. My plan was to stay through their next round of regulatory exam (they will be hit any day now with this) and then to find another job and resign. But, as any good ADHDer will tell you, sometimes if you procrastinate long enough without making a decision, one is made for you.
I was not upset. Stunned, yes. A little disgruntled that THEY had let ME go, instead of me quitting. I had a feeling it was coming, though, and so it wasn't really a surprise. The timing was a surprise. The event was not.
But it was so strange—I wasn't upset. I didn't cry. I didn't even want to cry. Sy asked me if I wanted to leave and come back later for my stuff. "Why would I need to do that?" I asked.
Mostly, I was secretly singing, "I'M FREE, I'M FREE, I'M FINALLY FREE!"
The first time I ever got fired, like, really fired from a job, it was my first job in the securities business. Yeah, I had fucked up, but not monumentally. My boss had fucked up and he used me as a scapegoat. I was absolutely devastated that time. It was a punch in the gut. I had no money. I was ekeing out my existence paycheck-to-paycheck, and barely. I didn't even have a computer. I went to Kinko's and sat at their computers, spending money I didn't have to create my resume and submit it for jobs I was either underqualified for or overqualified for. No one called for interviews.
I bawled uncontrollably for days. Weeks, actually. And then, just when I thought I was going to have to go flip burgers again (not that there was anything wrong with it, I just felt like it was a step backwards), a friend stepped in, helped me out and got me another job. It still took me the better part of a few years to really "recover" from being fired. It just seemed like something that Shouldn't Happen to Lara. I am too good to get fired. Well, no one is too good to get fired. In fact, sometimes you get fired because you are too good. (Note: making your boss feel inferior—not the fast lane to success.) And sometimes you get fired because your boss is an idiot and a jerk. (Note: this is pretty common.)
Now, though, I am older and much wiser. And last fall, when I first was seriously toying with the idea of getting the hell out of, well, hell, I did some planning for this consulting business that was sort of my pie-in-the-sky dream. Someday, I told myself. Someday this will be what I do. I was very excited about that Someday. It was a little secret I clutched on to when things got really bad. The ace up my sleeve, if you will. One of those little things that got me through the worst days. Someday.
There have been a lot of Somedays in my life. Most of them sneak up and become reality before you even realize it. Someday, I will live on my own, and no one will tell me what to do. (Done.) Someday, I will have a decent car. (Done.) Someday, I will have kitties. (Also done.) Someday, I will write a novel. (Not yet done.) And someday, I will have my own business, and be my own boss, and all of my successes and failures will be MINE.
I spent that first weekend alternately sulking (because I had been let go by these idiots) and euphoric (because I WAS FREE from that pit of fail). I spent it having deeply logical conversations with my parents and my sisters and my friends, talking about finding a new job, one that would support me while I was organizing the consulting business.
Then I woke up Tuesday morning. And I woke up knowing, just KNOWING that if I took another job, there were going to be a few problems. One: I am so soured on working for other people that my paranoia borders on a clinical disorder. Two: getting another job is an excuse. It's an excuse NOT to do what I have always wanted to do. It's an excuse because I've run numbers over and over again, thought through every worst-case scenario I can imagine, and it's not out of reach. I don't need to clutch at it anymore. This Someday is right in front of me. To take another job working for someone else, to start over again doing exactly the thing I don't like doing for the sake of being safe—it's an excuse for procrastination. It's a safe, sensible choice that will leave that Someday on the table.
I am 32 years old. I have plenty of energy, I'm smart, and I'm motivated. I have some money put away. I have some income still on the way. I have predictable monthly expenses. I have a (admittedly small, but growing) network of people who respect my work and will recommend me to others. I am well-rounded enough to save a pretty penny upfront by creating my own website, my own marketing tactics, my own accounting, and improvise in other ways (using technology in lieu of travel, for example) to cut corners until I have enough coming in to source that stuff out to others. And not a lot has to come in. Just five hours of work a week. Five, instead of 60 or more, pays all my bills.
Most importantly, I have seen a number of small businesses operate at the executive level, and I have seen what they do wrong. I have thought about how to do it right, and I can DO this. I woke up that Tuesday morning thinking, without even a tiny niggle of doubt in the back of my mind, "I can do this. It will be a blast."
There is no reason NOT to do this.
And I am calm, and confident, and so very excited that this little someday that I have had to clutch onto like a well-worn teddy bear is finally a reality.
They "laid me off" which means they paid me a severance package, and the bosses all offered to write recommendation letters. Which is pretty funny, considering they all spent a good six months talking about how much I sucked. The weirdest thing of all, though, wasn't that they got rid of me. I already knew that I was leaving one way or another. My plan was to stay through their next round of regulatory exam (they will be hit any day now with this) and then to find another job and resign. But, as any good ADHDer will tell you, sometimes if you procrastinate long enough without making a decision, one is made for you.
I was not upset. Stunned, yes. A little disgruntled that THEY had let ME go, instead of me quitting. I had a feeling it was coming, though, and so it wasn't really a surprise. The timing was a surprise. The event was not.
But it was so strange—I wasn't upset. I didn't cry. I didn't even want to cry. Sy asked me if I wanted to leave and come back later for my stuff. "Why would I need to do that?" I asked.
Mostly, I was secretly singing, "I'M FREE, I'M FREE, I'M FINALLY FREE!"
The first time I ever got fired, like, really fired from a job, it was my first job in the securities business. Yeah, I had fucked up, but not monumentally. My boss had fucked up and he used me as a scapegoat. I was absolutely devastated that time. It was a punch in the gut. I had no money. I was ekeing out my existence paycheck-to-paycheck, and barely. I didn't even have a computer. I went to Kinko's and sat at their computers, spending money I didn't have to create my resume and submit it for jobs I was either underqualified for or overqualified for. No one called for interviews.
I bawled uncontrollably for days. Weeks, actually. And then, just when I thought I was going to have to go flip burgers again (not that there was anything wrong with it, I just felt like it was a step backwards), a friend stepped in, helped me out and got me another job. It still took me the better part of a few years to really "recover" from being fired. It just seemed like something that Shouldn't Happen to Lara. I am too good to get fired. Well, no one is too good to get fired. In fact, sometimes you get fired because you are too good. (Note: making your boss feel inferior—not the fast lane to success.) And sometimes you get fired because your boss is an idiot and a jerk. (Note: this is pretty common.)
Now, though, I am older and much wiser. And last fall, when I first was seriously toying with the idea of getting the hell out of, well, hell, I did some planning for this consulting business that was sort of my pie-in-the-sky dream. Someday, I told myself. Someday this will be what I do. I was very excited about that Someday. It was a little secret I clutched on to when things got really bad. The ace up my sleeve, if you will. One of those little things that got me through the worst days. Someday.
There have been a lot of Somedays in my life. Most of them sneak up and become reality before you even realize it. Someday, I will live on my own, and no one will tell me what to do. (Done.) Someday, I will have a decent car. (Done.) Someday, I will have kitties. (Also done.) Someday, I will write a novel. (Not yet done.) And someday, I will have my own business, and be my own boss, and all of my successes and failures will be MINE.
I spent that first weekend alternately sulking (because I had been let go by these idiots) and euphoric (because I WAS FREE from that pit of fail). I spent it having deeply logical conversations with my parents and my sisters and my friends, talking about finding a new job, one that would support me while I was organizing the consulting business.
Then I woke up Tuesday morning. And I woke up knowing, just KNOWING that if I took another job, there were going to be a few problems. One: I am so soured on working for other people that my paranoia borders on a clinical disorder. Two: getting another job is an excuse. It's an excuse NOT to do what I have always wanted to do. It's an excuse because I've run numbers over and over again, thought through every worst-case scenario I can imagine, and it's not out of reach. I don't need to clutch at it anymore. This Someday is right in front of me. To take another job working for someone else, to start over again doing exactly the thing I don't like doing for the sake of being safe—it's an excuse for procrastination. It's a safe, sensible choice that will leave that Someday on the table.
I am 32 years old. I have plenty of energy, I'm smart, and I'm motivated. I have some money put away. I have some income still on the way. I have predictable monthly expenses. I have a (admittedly small, but growing) network of people who respect my work and will recommend me to others. I am well-rounded enough to save a pretty penny upfront by creating my own website, my own marketing tactics, my own accounting, and improvise in other ways (using technology in lieu of travel, for example) to cut corners until I have enough coming in to source that stuff out to others. And not a lot has to come in. Just five hours of work a week. Five, instead of 60 or more, pays all my bills.
Most importantly, I have seen a number of small businesses operate at the executive level, and I have seen what they do wrong. I have thought about how to do it right, and I can DO this. I woke up that Tuesday morning thinking, without even a tiny niggle of doubt in the back of my mind, "I can do this. It will be a blast."
There is no reason NOT to do this.
And I am calm, and confident, and so very excited that this little someday that I have had to clutch onto like a well-worn teddy bear is finally a reality.