what i hate most about the whole thing is becoming a goddam statistic

.

so today before i even have time to drop my shit and sit down, the phone starts ringing--display tells me it's the office manager.

hmm.

"hey connie, how are ya?"

"mike, can you come down and touch base with susan [human resources] and me for a minute?"

"sure."

uh oh.

i take a deep breath, head downstairs, walk into connie's office.  she and susan have each chosen black ensembles for the day's wet work, which strikes me as funny.

"this one's a closed-door, i presume?"  they nod in unison.

i close the door and then spend most of the next half-hour reassuring these women, both of whom i love, that it's ok--i knew it was coming.

[which is true: for way too long, i've been paid insanely well for doing little more than showing up--if it hadn't been for connie and susan standing up to chicago on my behalf, my talented-yet-lazy ass woulda been gone at least a year ago, and we all know it.]

once we get past all the condolences and paperwork, i ask, "who else?"

they give me the names, and i'm shocked:  five key people [but then after three rounds of layoffs, all that's left is key people, so what did i expect?].

the severance package is unexpectedly generous--gives me a few months to plan my next move.

i spend the rest of the afternoon packing [five boxes--who the fuck keeps five boxes' worth of useless shit at work?  everybody, the guy who helps me down to my car tells me later], burning stuff onto cd's, consoling my fellow shell-shocked layoff-ees and saying goodbye to the spooked survivors [of this round, anyway].

and all the while [and unlike so many of my fellow americans to whom this shit is happening with increasing regularity] thinking to myself, "thank god i was at least halfway prepared."