Persona Non Grata I am in the final days of my two week notice (yes, I got the job!!) and, while this is normally a reflective time, I can't help but reflect because I have spent my last several days at work alone. Really, it's fitting. This past year was easily the worst of my adult life. I spent most of the year trying to prove to management that the team I was leading was critical all while coping with a brewing mutiny and the efforts of many of the very teammates I was defending to undermine me. One of them succeeded.

It was just a disagreement on the Friday before I took a week off. When I returned, I was the root of all evil, on drugs, and clearly unstable. At least that was what everyone had been told. Fortunately, I had a good reputation. Most who knew me knew this was a bunch of hooey. Sadly, our management had changed completely and no one who knew me was left in a position to champion me. The downward spiral began and it became painfully clear I couldn't possibly win.

I was given a bad performance rating. In this company, this is the equivalent of blacklisting. I would not be eligible for a bonus or a merit increase and I couldn't even post for a new position. Of course, this became a much bigger deal when I was let go. Even worse, I gained a lot of weight and lost some of my hair!

I am so glad all of this is over. It's best I spend these last days alone. The reflecting reminds me exactly why I am leaving. Regardless, I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little hurt that no one is taking me to lunch.

P.S. to my regulars - sorry for the delay - and for the makeover.  ¶ 21:28 0 comments

  The State of Daycare I have taken extended lunches the past 2 days to look for a new child care center for my dear son and I have a new appreciation for my current on-site arrangement.

Hubby and I started by touring a center that has been in business for ages. He actually walks by it every day and had a good feeling about it. It has good inspection records and is always full - certainly a sign that it's a desireable place, right? Well, it probably is, if you are trying to pull your children out of nasty centers like the next two I visited. However, after walking into a room of, I swear, 2 dozen sleeping children and observing there was no teacher present, we decided this wasn't the place for us.

Since his current center is a chain, I thought that might be a good approach. I contacted two very well known chain centers (KinderCrap and La Mistreat Academy) and arranged for tours. I cannot possibly judge which center was worse and I think I may have developed post-traumatic stress disorder just by visiting. Both places were exactly how I imagined orphanages must be. Nauseating smells greeted me at the door and the children were unhappy, unkept, and unattended. It was interesting to note that both of these centers were like big open rooms divided by waist-high, movable walls. When one teacher was noticeably over ratio, it occurred to me that this 'big room' approach was to get around the ratio rule. Essentially, all of the staff and all of the children were in the same room.

I reached the conclusion that, if this was it, one of us had to stop working or someone else we are related to needed to get a job with my current employer so he can stay where he is.

I called another center after leaving La Mistreat, I ask desperately for an impromptu interview and tour. They happily agree but indicate there really isn't availability at this time. A spot for my son would depend on their getting another room ready to go that isn't there today. The new teacher isn't even hired.

When I arrive, I know this is the place. It isn't in a very convenient location and, after I plunk down my non-refundable registration fee, I learn that tuition is $50 more per week than we pay today. This isn't an area of our lives where bargain hunting seems appropriate.

All of this work done behind the scenes and we haven't even reached the hard part - the actual transition.  ¶ 21:59 0 comments

  The Big Day This morning, I had an appointment with my prospective employer. It was very early for me and I needed to prepare everything just so in order to ensure I would arrive on time. Last night, I laid out my clothes and packed my bag. Dear husband and I reviewed the plan for how the morning would go before we went to bed.

At 7:10 this morning, I was on my way. A little late, I had already wasted my spare time, but I was looking polished and had a sleepy, content son in tow munching strawberry toaster pancakes and watching Spongebob. The traffic gods were with me. I sailed through all the green lights and the highway was doing the speed limit. I was feeling smug. Clearly, this was my day.

I pulled into the daycare at 10 to 7, planning to drop my little boy off quickly because I wasn't really sure where I was going.

Then came a terrifying noise from the back seat. He was choking on his pancake! I threw the car into park and, before I slammed my door on my way to him, I could tell he had almost cleared his throat. When I reached his door, he was still gagging a little and I offered him some water still in the car from the weekend. It looks like he'll be OK. He's still breathing. I am watching so closely for signs that he still may be choking that I miss any warning that he was about to puke all over himself and the car.

What a reality check. A little reminder that, above all else, I am a mom. I managed to dodge the mess but my sweet little boy, just covered in sick, is desperate for a hug. It had been a traumatic 30 seconds. I take off my suit coat, lay it on the front seat, and gingerly lift him from the yuck. It really is everywhere. I strip him down to his shoes, socks and diaper and use baby wipes to clean off the rest. There is no time to putz with the car or his carseat. I really have to go.

I wrap him in a blanket, hoping I don't meet the director on the way in. To her, puking is puking and he won't be allowed to stay. Once we're safe in the classroom, we're greeted by his teacher, who can already see it has been quite a morning. My boy basks in the attention one gets by arriving in their birthday suit and I dash to his cubby for his extra clothes.

I don't even remember dressing him. I am filling in the teacher. I tell her he isn't sick, that I have to run to an interview, and that if they do need anything to call Daddy. My son is already off playing. He is telling his classmate that he "eat a pancake and spit it out." I guess this is preschool bragging because he doesn't actuallly know how to spit.

The teacher instructs him to wish me luck. He does and I am on my way - except the sign on the door catches my attention. It says, "My mommy is special because..." Beside my son's name, it says "Yeah. She say I love you, I love you. She play dinosaurs, she play bugs." That's just about the best thing he could have said and it gave me the power to conquer the world - or at least get through that interview.

How did I do? Stay tuned...  ¶ 21:55 0 comments

  Stranger than Fiction I spent a good portion of today crying quietly at my desk. I had a really hard time articulating why to those I tried to tell and I doubt I will have much better luck here. I learned something yesterday at work that didn't change my situation much but changed my outlook dramatically.

When I had been told my position was being outsourced, I was also told that I had been considered for the open positions in the division and was determined not to be a fit. There was no place for me. Suddenly, I was an outcast in a world where I had been considered an expert for years.

I went into the proverbial tailspin.

I launched a publicity campaign that, had it been allowed to gain more momentum, would have elected me president. My sweet husband went back to the job he had quit due to stress. I spent money on job hunting books and suits. I wrote a fine resume. We talked about moving, even considered it inevitable. I schmoozed, and interviewed, and flirted, and kissed up, and disguised the pleading with an inflated self-confidence usually reserved for the nation's sales force. I was unstoppable...until I was met with the dark despair and hopelessness introduced to me by the entire situation. My usual sunny disposition had been blotted out by the toxic sludge of uncertainty and self doubt. It was the most horrifying roller coaster ride I can recall and it was all in my head.

What I found out yesterday was that it was probably unnecessary. Turns out, my position had been eliminated but there was still hope for me. In fact, the senior manager for our team said he'd love to have me stay in the division. I was dumbstruck.

Back on the flipside, I have evidence to suggest someone has been messing with my personnel record, changing my performance ratings and obliterating my history of high performance. I don't know for sure who may have done it but I suspect it was my manager who was mysteriously reassigned last week.

When I was initially let go (or not), all I wanted was my job back. Now I just want to run as far away as I can as quickly as I can.

Corporate America or The WB? Maybe both - I'll get started on a pilot as soon as I find a job.  ¶ 21:57 0 comments

  Pride and Prejudice Today was the day we met our Indian replacement. He was late. Perhaps he thought we meant 9 AM Bangalore local time, I don't know. When he arrived, one of my teammates (who is not losing her job) became the welcome wagon. I don't even know how she did it. She introduced him around the floor and showed him how to navigate the building as though his arrival was our saving grace. His late arrival.

When I complained about his tardiness, this same person made excuses for him, saying, "he doesn't have connectivity yet, he may not have known." I responded, "well, he has a watch - and they have time in India." If we can't even rely on this person to understand the urgency of this job enough to arrive on time, I am afraid it is all downhill from here.

At one point, she asked if I would help train him. I was genuinely busy and said no. I am trying my best to avoid a lot of contact with him or I will be forced to show him a picture of my son and ask if he would like to sponsor him for 71 cents per day (the price of a cup of coffee). It could be more than he makes though, so that may be unnecessarily cruel.

The day will come, however, when I will be forced to hand him my job on a silver platter, demoralizing myself for the sake of my management's desire to save face and my company's desire to increase profits.

For my next act of humiliation, I will get a part time job at Hooter's.

Damn right I'm bitter.  ¶ 21:12 0 comments