The putrid economy snuck up and bit me in the booty last week, when I was unceremoniously given my walking papers at the Reno News & Review, where I was the editor. It was budget issues, they said.
I am certainly not alone around here, as a number of Northern Nevada workers have found themselves suddenly workless during the past few months. However, my canning did have two somewhat unique elements to it: First, I was the only one to get walking papers in my office, and second, I learned the walking papers were coming my way several days before they actually arrived. And this combination of factors gave me a fascinating view into human behavior.
Here's how it happened: I started getting suspicious about my status on Friday (the week before), when weird meetings that would normally involve me were taking place without my presence. The next Monday, my fears were confirmed, and by the end of the day Tuesday, everybody in the office knew I was going to have a meeting with The Big Boss From California on Wednesday afternoon that was going to involve a slip that was astounding in its pinkness. This meant that all of my co-workers -- people, I am blessed enough to say, who are also my friends -- had to interact with me while knowing I was getting the boot.
This created some awkwardness. There are few occurrences in the human existence in which people have advance notice that something bad is about to happen to someone they care about. If someone's going to get hit by a bus, for example, a few seconds is all the lead time that a friend of that someone will have, maximum.
But in the case of my firing -- not that it was as bad as getting hit by a bus, because there was far less honking involved -- my friends and co-workers did know. They had to deal with me for a day or so with this knowledge, and they all responded to me in one of three fascinating ways:
1. The Knowing Look. Let's say I was walking down the hall, and a co-worker passed. He or she would look at me, make eye contact, give me a sympathetic look, purse his or her lips and nod his or her head. It's the body language equivalent of "I am sorry, but it's OK. I understand. There there." It's kind of like "I feel your pain" without the Clintonian lying connotation.
2. The Sympathetic Back Pat. Let's say I am standing there, talking to someone who has just given me The Knowing Look. Well, if someone else walked by, he or she would pat me on the back, gently but firmly, twice. Not once, not three times, but twice. It's the back-patting equivalent of "I am sorry, but it's OK. I understand. There there," without the eye contact. It's kind of like "I feel your pain" without the Clintonian groping connotation.
3. A combination of The Knowing Look and the Sympathetic Back Pat. This was the most common, but it wasn't always practical. After all, it's hard to pirouette and pat someone who is walking down the hall, and it's hard to steal someone's eye contact when that someone is having a conversation with someone else.
In any case, the knowing looks and the back-pattings stopped when I had the anticipated meeting with The Big Boss From California. We had a brief and civil conversation, highlighted by the moment when I explained to him how the COBRA documents worked ("No, I sign this one, which you keep, saying that you gave me THIS ONE"). I got my pink slip, turned in my office keys and wandered off into the sunset, at which point I was hit by a bus.
No, I am kidding. No busses were involved. And honestly, I was OK with the whole thing -- a little pissed, yes, and a little worried, but confident that this is just the end of one chapter of my life and the start of another.
But what a chapter that was. I worked with the most amazing group of people at the Reno News & Review, and while some of them will still be a part of my life as friends, I will deeply miss seeing them and working with them five-plus days a week.
That's why there's a tear or two in my eyes as I start the next chapter. And that's the only reason, because there are no regrets.
Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan who is enjoying sleeping in these days. Jimmy's column appears here Tuesdays, and he can be reached via e-mail -- with really cool job offers -- at jiboegle@stanfordalumni.org.