I fell in love three weeks ago. It was a whirlwind romance, with four meetups before I was hooked, on number five. You’re no doubt waiting to hear a name, some background. Yes? Who is he? Where did you meet him?
There isn’t a name, so to speak. I fell in love with a new job, at a new company whose focus is bringing people together to do good works. I fell in absolute-like with every single team member, too. Every. Single. One. Just think about that for a minute. A workplace of twenty-four people, and every single one was amazingly friendly, helpful, and smart-as-hell. What’re the chances?
I was shocked to realize that, in all my years, this had never happened to me. Not once. Not even close. I’m not a spring chicken, and have been in the workforce for over 30 years at a broad selection of companies (giving myself some wiggle room so my age isn’t apparent <grin>). It was amazing to go to work every day and have endorphins rioting around my body and mind.
I’ve worked for okay companies, mediocre companies, and some real stinkers. I’m talking, absolutely miserable places to work where seventy-hours was a regular work-week.
I think perhaps having trudged through my work experiences, without actually finding joy for the job in any of them, made me fall even harder for this new gig. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve met and gained fabulous friends in the other places – even one “sister from another mother”, but joy for the jobs? Nope. Nada. NEVER.
Now, three weeks later, I’m crushed. This past Wednesday the company closed their Portland, OR doors and laid the lot of us off. I understand companies need to make the hard decisions, but on a purely selfish note, I’d fallen in love – for the first damned time – with a job, and sincerely liked every single person there.
I was hoping for new, lasting friendships. To reacquaint myself with downtown Portland – a place I’d somehow become detached from and hadn’t wandered its weird streets for over eight years. I was going to enjoy writing from the balcony, playing games with co-workers, and flirting with handsome men in town. Maybe have a meet-cute at Taylor and Yamhill or the Central Library.
I’m heartsore to have this stripped from me. And not only me, but twenty-three other souls who are losing their own connections, experiencing their own brand of pain. I know, I know, there are WAY more devastating and terrible things happening around the globe – but this is personal to me, and to those other twenty-three who were blindsided by going to work in the morning, and by four in the afternoon, jobless and packing their desks.
For me, it was a place I could call my home-away-from home. Where I could nest, help people, and do good things. Where I could settle in and stay until – way the hell in the future – I could retire and have such fond memories of doing good works, bonding with friends and co-workers, and by doing my job, making other’s jobs easier and more enjoyable.
I’m tough and tenacious, so I know I’ll weather this just like I’ve weathered adversity in the past, but….
I told my sister-from-another mother I felt like I’d fallen in love after a whirlwind courtship, and then my love left one afternoon, moved on, never to be seen again.