The end came quietly this morning in a meeting with my managers, both of whom were genuinely unhappy about having to “release me from my trial service”, as it was so delicately put. It was the nicest firing I’ve ever experienced, and while being unemployed again is scary, my primary emotion is relief.
It’s not like I didn’t know this was coming. I figured it would be today or Monday at the latest, and I was ready for it…..which made it possible to sit through the exit interview with my dignity and professionalism intact. In fact, my managers remarked about how much they and my co-workers liked me, as well as appreciating the fact that I took criticism with grace. (I know—was that really me they were talking about?) And judging by “Ken’s” strong grip and lingering handshake at the end, I believe that they actually were sorry to see me go.
OK. Now that that’s out of the way, I have literally a smorgasbord of opportunities in front of me. For the first time in two decades, I’m open to just about anything but floor nursing, telephone solicitation, and prostitution. I could go back to school and become a medical coder. I could try to get a job at Costco or Home Depot. I could work as a patient registrar at the hospital. I’d like to make the kind of money I’m used to, but that’s probably not going to happen, and at this point I’d even take a minimum-wage job if it means not having an hour’s drive and fighting eighteen-wheelers to and from work five days a week.
What I will do is go to Vocational Rehab next Monday and restart my case; get my hair cut and colored; file for unemployment benefits. I’ll relax this weekend and then hit the pavement, or at least the Internet, in search of a new job. I’ll do some networking and see if any of my friends know of openings I might apply for.
What I will NOT do is feel sorry for myself. Nope, not one bit. I gave this thing every chance and tried to make it work, and it was simply a poor fit. It happens. I put myself out there, and it takes some pretty good stuff to get as far as I did. I knew I was taking a gamble by accepting the position, knowing that I might get tripped up by this rotten disease I have or by issues with learning and memory, and the latter was what got me. I don’t regret trying it for a minute. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m not a failure.
This is what I want everyone to remind me of when the inevitable crash comes and I start talking crap about myself. Thanks in advance.