Saturday, December 20, 2008

Let's sing: On the 1st day of Christmas. . .


. . . my company gave to me, a pink slip after 38 years. On the 2nd day of Christmas . . . .

Terminated! How the dreaded event unfolded: my Blackberry buzzed the final evening of November just as our family and a guest were sitting down to our last Thanksgiving weekend meal together. I glanced at the incoming message from my boss: numerous changes...need to meet you tomorrow at the Motley Motel...bring your laptop.... I chose not to share this cryptic news with our small gathering, and I wasn't much of a conversationalist the rest of the evening either (not that I'm much of one anyway, but this time I felt I had an excuse). Didn't get much sleep that night either.

The next morning the boss buzzed the Blackberry again: confirm receipt of my message...also I do not need you to bring your computer.... What the?? Was this a reprieve?

Nope. At the annointed hour, I dutifully appeared at my execution. The boss (who normally is a very nice guy but this night was looking a bit like Bart Simpson on steroids) ushered me into a very large conference room that had light only over one table with a phone on it and one chair on either side. Kind of surreal. After several attempts, the phone simply refused to allow an outgoing call, so the boss drew his trusty Blackberry and proceeded to conference call with Ms. Armbreaker from HR, and the Queen VP of Global Sales who explained how she had wanted to be there in person, but the dreadful weather at HQ had prevented that - and something about her pending trip to China which, frankly, went over my head.

From that point, the role of my boss was to push various documents at me as the HR professional rattled them off. We ended up having two good discussions about (1) extending the termination date 8 to 10 days to allow me to complete a couple of important tasks with customers and (2) the potential of a continuing part-time relationship as an independant contractor. Of course the #2 won't proceed until I sign the separation document which, near as I can tell, would hold the company blameless for every time they ever mis-spelled my last name plus all evil deeds (real or imagined) they might have done to me during the last 38+ years. And they suggested I get an attorney to advise me (you betcha). And help yourself to a lump of coal on your way out. Thanks for coming.

So my last day was, effectively, the first day of the twelve days of Christmas! Upon reflection, I (almost) feel more sorry for my boss who has to be on his own emotional rollercoaster, along with several of my peers who had to give (or get) similar news. However, regardless of what happens from here, I'm glad to be able to say my tenure with the organization has (literally) been the ride of my life--an extrordinary experience. The ratio of nice folks I have met and worked with vs. the not so nice has been in the neighborhood of 100:1 (probably higher). I think it would have been pretty hard to beat those odds anywhere else!

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

"Step Back From The Alter Sir . . .

And Keep Your Hands Off My Wallet!" Another sign of our weird times: allow me to share this 12/15/08 post at http://politicalirony.com/: The blessing of the SUVs

Here’s another one of those stories that truly wins the irony award. In Princess Sparkle Pony’s Photo Blog (subtitle “I keep track of Condoleezza’s hairdo so you don’t have to”) is a story about a recent service at the Greater Grace Temple in Detroit. The title of the article is “Programming Note: This Week, the Part of the Golden Calf Will be Played by Three Sport Utility Vehicles”.

At this service, called “A Hybrid Hope”, Bishop Charles Ellis prayed for the future of the American auto industry. But what makes it truly astounding was that Bishop Ellis shared the altar with three SUVs (one from each company in the holy auto trinity, of course).

As if that wasn’t enough, Ellis summoned up hundreds of auto workers and retirees in the congregation to come forward toward the vehicles on the altar to be anointed with oil. Yes, oil. You just can’t make stuff like this up. From Reuters, via Princess Sparkle Pony. More photos.