I miss my old life in so many ways, but I have been trying not to think about it. I can't help but remember how it used to be, though, when I see my old co-workers again. A bunch of us got together for drinks tonight, because another 15 people were laid off there this week. Yet again, several of them were people that introduced me to the business and helped me so much along the way, people that have been there forever (especially in agency years). Many of my co-workers were like my second family, and I think a part of me will always miss what I had there. I'm not sure I will ever find that again in another job.
I can't really begin to explain what "that" is, but I'm going to try, anyway. Basically, I had found my niche there, and I was on good terms with every single person that I knew in that office. Hell, I was on good terms with people I can't really claim to know, too. My reputation usually preceded me in "introductions," as if I were some kind of celebrity. I also had a way of working very well with difficult people. Even the toughest, scariest people in the office were total sweethearts to me--people that were notorious for being critical and complaining about everyone and everything only gave me heartfelt, sometimes gushing compliments. I had to laugh as I hugged some of them tonight, because to me that tough-guy image was always an act. I have lost count of the people that have individually volunteered to be a reference for me or that have told me that the company made a mistake when they let me go. An unexpected "fan" comes out of the woodwork all the time. It continues to amaze me, and I can only describe it as some kind of phenomena. Maybe they're all drinking the kool-aid...or maybe, they're onto something.
In any case, that support has had a profound impact on my life, and I will always carry that with me. Even though I am glad to still see some of them ocassionally, it's not the same. (I mean, catching up with 4 people at lunch once a month does not really compare to catching up or saying "hi" to 60 people you enjoy just seeing in the hallways all the time.) I have been trying my best to distract myself from the loss and I really have not been dwelling on it, but I just have to allow myself to fully confront it before I can really get over it. I shouldn't cry because it's over, I should smile because it happened.
The place that I left is not the place that it is today, anyway. I'm glad I was not around to see many of my mentors get pushed out the door before me, and it was hard enough to concentrate on work during that month or so when my job was up in the air. The place I used to know now only lives in my memory. It took place at a more innocent time, a time when I believed that good work would be rewarded and that a strong character was more important than a strong title. Sometimes, that might still be the case, but right now I am jaded. Let me wallow in my cynicism just this once, because I owe it to myself this time. I have every right to feel screwed over. Things will get better soon enough, I can feel it.
Revelation/rant: It continues to be clear that the lay-offs are not about performance. I'm starting to realize that they seem to be cutting the people probably making the highest salaries in their title bracket, though. Actually, that rule could apply to me, as well. I got over a 7% raise at my first and only review time (July '07), when fellow co-workers were getting the standard 3%. (I only know this because they were complaining.) They piled on the responsibility, and I seemed to be on the fast track towards a promotion (July '08, I was hoping). Then, the shit hit the fan for Kraft as well as the rest of the company. I probably should have been on the low end of the Art Director bracket instead of the high end of Junior Art Director bracket, but I never pushed for a title adjustment because I didn't think it was that important. In hindsight, maybe it was. I know it was important to certain non-St. Louis assholes at the top, anyway...(Sorry, but I personally have to respect a person's character before I can truly respect a person's title.) Anyway, none of this matters now, but it almost begins to make some kind of sense. Eh, I don't care. F*@# the bottom line.
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