Poetry at Work, Chapter 16: The Poetry of Unemployment

It happens to most of us, at one time or another in our careers. You’re called into the boss’s office and discover there’s an HR person waiting as well. Yep, you’re being laid off.

Sometimes you’re expecting it; sometimes you’re not. In my case, I knew it was coming. A work colleague had found out and couldn’t keep it to herself. She tried to look appropriately sad and concerned, but it didn’t work. She was actually rather gleeful (yes, there was a history here). I looked at her and said, “You won’t understand this, but a considerable amount of good will come out of this for me.” Her almost angry response: “You’re just in denial.” 

Perhaps I was. I felt my ears grow warm, a sure indication that I fully understood what was happening. And I really upset the process when I walked from her office to my boss’s office and told him I knew I was shortly to be laid off. He blew up – because it upset the usual process for these “elimination” programs. 

To continue reading, please see my post today at Literary Life.

Poetry at Work: The Poetry of Unemployment

At the end of 1999, I found myself the recipient of “the package” – the severance package that goes along with the legal document you need to sign if you accept the package. The document includes a commitment not to sue. One of the Human Resources people, forgetting that I was “on the list” and that I could translate the jargon, wandered around chirping how the package “met the test.” The test was not some government standard of non-discrimination; the test was actually whether or not the company got sued.

I waited until 55 minutes before the 45-day deadline to sign and deliver. The chirrupy HR person was nearly prostrate with anxiety. And with good reason: my attorney looked at the people on the list and said, “One female, 94 males, all between the ages of 40 and 50. This is so discriminatory it reeks. You could win this case, and easily. But you’d have to tie up your life for the next three to four years. And they know that.”

There was poetry in there, somewhere.

To continue reading, please see my Poetry at Work post today at TweetSpeak Poetry.

Photograph by Julie Gentry via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.