Major Rewrite, part 2

"Let's talk about it next week," my manager said one Friday afternoon when I approached him again.  I told him I felt better!  Was getting things done and feeling happier about the role.  I still got headaches but they were less severe.  I was still unhappy but more irritated than completely miserable.  A great deal of progress had been made and while I knew changes were coming and wanted to help the team as much as possible, waiting to understand my options was increasingly difficult.

A couple hours later, I received a LinkedIn message from the recruiter with a request to speak on Monday.  Surprised, I immediately accepted but only had 30 minutes in a day otherwise packed with meetings.  We negotiated and time and I moved a few items on my calendar to make it work and looked forward to the opportunity.

"I don't know," I mused when Mom asked what I was thinking on our weekly ride to church.  "I doubt I'll go anywhere - I love my team.  I'm very effective and know most of the answers now.  I make more money than we need.  I don't want to move.  So I think I'll stay, but it's always good to understand what's out there!"

I swallowed hard on Monday morning before dawn, checking my email and fighting back nausea.  I nodded in acceptance and looked over at Mom, playing Family Feud on her Kindle.

"Mom?" I waited until she pushed pause and looked over, staring at the "Important Meeting" that had appeared on my calendar.  "I have a meeting with HR and my manager today at 10.  They're letting me go."

"It says that?" she asked and I shook my head.  But that's what it meant, I knew, even as I worked through the denial phase.  Maybe they were going to beg me to stay after learning I was looking outside the company.  Ask if I would take a pay cut.  I've spent nearly a decade here - could it be that easy to end it?

Turns out it was.  I cried and we prayed and I took a shower.  Selected a black dress that I knew I'd never want to wear again.  Breathed through the pain and dread until the prayers eased it, leaving me feeling peaceful and ready.

"Let the games begin," I murmured as Taylor Swift asked if I was ready for it in my head.  I held my morning meetings, welcomed a new member to my manager's team and clutched my prayer cloth in my hand when I walked over to HR.

Eliminated position. Not performance related.  Difficult for all of us.  Severance package. Take the week off.

"Do you want me to leave so you can talk to your boss?" HR asked.

"No," I replied, having already cried and trying to pull it back together.

"Do you want him to leave so you can talk to me?

"No," I repeated, shaking my head and smoothing the knitted cloth between my fingers.

"Do you want the room so you can take some time?"

I choked out a laugh.  "I'd very much like to leave now."  So they nodded sympathetically and I escaped, emerging into the parking lot where I'd taken that walk.

"Please help me do this," I asked God again.  I called my mom and my closest colleague, telling her I'd meet her for lunch.

But first I got to do this 11AM interview I'd scheduled.  So I went and bought a soda from McDonalds with change I found in my car lest my throat get dry from the crying.  I furiously researched the company on my phone, trying to answer some of the big questions so I could sound semi-intelligent and attractive in a situation that had suddenly gone from exploratory to vital.