The Middle

Comment Card

As I leave one version of a nationwide mo-hotel chain for another, I wanted to acknowledge that if the hotel staff is cool, it makes the stay much more enjoyable. In Louisiana, so far, I’ve seen and felt the most hospitality and second place tie goes to Savannah and the place across from Target in Pennsylvania kinda near Delaware, I think.

Now, if we could only leave comment cards in life, everywhere we go, that would create jobs — someone would need to collate all that information, process objectivity ratios and report feedback to the users. Yeah, that would be good for the economy.

The Middle

Suicide bombs

“‘It was an attempt to destabilize the situation and sow panic,'” he said in a statement issued by his spokesman.

Working Girl

Job loss and its ramifications

I lost my job today, I can’t say I am entirely surprised given the signals, the aggressive new boss who found fault with the way I did my job and baited me so he could say, “Why are you doing that?” repeatedly. I should have known. Perhaps that is why I am kicking myself for being ill-prepared, once again, to weather the storms of the freelance pack.

It’s truly a diabolical crowd, the executives, or suits as they are aptly described, who run things.  I am starting to suspect they are not really human. They certainly exibit nothing close to human care, compassion or consideration, saying, ‘it’s not personal–it’s [just] business’ as their holy guru mantra. If I hear that one more time, I may puke on the bearer of the bad news.

They informed me by email starting the whole thing off with blaming me for not answering their call. Very funny, actually. These are the same people who can’t be reached for days and leave it to me to get their show on air. They are on vacation or M.I.A. repeatedly throughout the time of my most intense deadlines.

I should have known.

These are the very same tribe that finds fault with me at unexpected turns–once again, past history and consistency of performance matter not in relation to relative status and earning potential as draining their bonus or cost-savings analysis report to the tribal council.

Untenable, is the word of the day, which means can’t work with you. That’s a first. I am one of the easiest schmucks around. But not today. No, I fought for my dignity while the one person who could back me up sat there looking at his laptop the whole time I was been attacked. And I was being attacked, because every sentence I uttered was cut-off for a full five minutes and I was questioned on everything I had done — not one thing was from understanding of and appreciation for the process. The irony is the very people the woman above me sought to discount are still there while I am out irresolutely on my ass. No warning. No you better impress this guy, tell him this and that, no they did the standard walk-thru, presenting me for the slaughter.


What did I expect? I thought I’d finally landed in a place that appreciated me. Wrong. Way wrong. I was terminated without warning 2 working days before I was supposed to start a job that would last 8 months, doing a job that I created and in which I actually excelled by all counts.

Is it something I said?

Apparently. Okay, so I am honest and truthful. I suppose that only works sometimes, when you want to hear it.

I mean, I was told I had the job, for sure, less than a month ago, and it went up in smoke, due to budgetary contraints, I am sure. I cost too much. They got my documents out of me, I foolishly laughed that I didn’t have a contract, and protested on how I’d been treated. So, what do I expect? No one wants to hear it. We’ve got someone else to do your job, thank you very much, here’s the door, oh and security will escort you out with your box of files. So ugly. So unnecessary. Some day when the court documents wear off, I can tell the story. But for now, those who know, know. And now I just hope and pray that I can rebound for the upteenth time, I mean, I don’t know really how much more I can take. I am beaten and broken. I am a creative talent, and that has turned out to be my downfall. My non-conformist actions form my sensibility which makes me the top in my craft. My focus, my drive, my intensity, my integrity.  Must I lose those to survive?

I don’t want to even look in my wallet. A neighbor I owe $ 6 to is knocking at the door, she wants something, it’s late, I can’t cope.

That is today. I guess I’ll keep track. Writing is good for me, I think.