I’d like to claim that I’m really self aware and totally attuned to the emotions in the ether so I was prepared for this, but honestly, I just had a brilliantly timed tantrum.
On Friday, I stripped my desk at work and packed up all my toys. I wasn’t told to do it; it was a knee-jerk reaction to being told I don’t fit in. You want a sterile workplace? Okay, I’ll GIVE you sterile. The rainbow arch came down, all my prints, the 37 different Hello Kitty things – all gone. I packed everything into bags and boxes, and set it aside.
On Sunday, after the Great Bieber Hunt of 2011, we went to my office to drop off everything we had bought. We also picked up all my stuff, just in case.
This morning at work, I packed up the rest of it. Better safe than sorry, right?
I was one folder of old packing slips away from removing every trace of my existence when I was called in to talk to my boss. There was another lady there; a stranger. I knew what it meant.
I lost my job today.
My toys are safe, though.
More words will come later (after the cheque has cleared). Right now, I need to cry. So I’m going to go do that, and maybe eat some of the cheesecake in my fridge.