Excerpts from a conversation that you and I had, or have not had yet:
Y: So? How are things going? How've you been?
Y: Uh-oh... I don't like the sound of that. What happened now?
M: Er... I got fired from Jaffe.
Y: What??? When? How did that happen?
M: Actually, it happened by e-mail, on Tuesday. On the last day of the month. I was... upset, to say the least. Although truthfully, it wasn't a complete surprise.
Y: They fired you by e-mail??? Wait... why, exactly, did they fire you?
M: I wasn't good enough. I mean, I was OK, I suppose, but not good enough for them. It's as plain and simple as that. I mean, despite my frequent posts at the blog, the music writing, the hours and hours of pornography...
Y: Please stop that.
M: I'm kidding. Anyway, it wasn't a matter of any of those things. I simply wasn't talented enough to be an account executive. No one had any problems with me, personally, but... what it came down to was their realization that they needed someone with more experience, someone who wasn't as junior as I was.
Y: Dude, I am so sorry. Jesus.
M: I know. But you and I both knew this wasn't going to last. I mean, I was there-- here-- for almost a year-and-a-half, which by my standards is like friggin' Shoah-long. But... I was looking for other work. You know that. So... the only thing that upset me was that they beat me to it, to be honest. Oh, and that my boss axed me via e-mail. And that she knew I was going through some tough times... which, translated, means that I'll be trying to find an apartment, now, without a job.
Y: Jesus Christ. You know, Dave, if you ever need anything...
M: Thank you. Really, I... thanks. But I'm going to be more than OK, believe me. Something will turn up, hopefully sooner rather than later, and... look. Once we get to April and May, it will be smooth sailing. Taxes will be done, I'll have a new place, a new job, the Abby thing will be finalized... so, hey. It's one more thing, sure, but I'm going to be just fine. I just hope there are some contract attorney positions available, in the short term. I'm glad I kept my DC Bar membership current.
Y: I don't know how I'd be doing if I were in your shoes. That is a lot of shit to be dealing with.
M: Tell me about it. You know, one of my co-workers called to apologize... each of them, to their credit, contacted me in one way or another to lend an ear, to make sure I was doing OK, to wish me luck, that sort of thing. Anyway, this one asked if I had considered seeing a therapist.
Y: What? That's awkward.
M: Eh, not really. It was well-intentioned. I mean, she wasn't suggesting I needed one... I should have clarified. I think she was simply trying to determine whether I had a strong enough support network, given all this shit-- which, by the way, I absolutely do, thank God. She also was probably trying to figure out whether I'd be averse to the idea.
Y: Are you?
M: No, not really... but I don't think I need that. I've got family and friends, all of whom are sick to death of hearing these sorts of things, but all of whom will continue to hear them (willingly) until the winds around me change course a bit. You guys look out for me, and I am blessed to have you around. Now, if I didn't have you guys... then I'd probably consider signing up. But again... you know, I think I'm doing strangely fine, even through all this.
Y: What did you do after you heard?
M: I called my sister. I freaked out a bit, as you might imagine, just from the shock of it. Then I called my boss, and told her that while I understood the "why," that I was extremely disappointed in the manner in which it was handled. I was furious, but knew better than to let her know that. I didn't realy yell. As you might know from the whole divorce thing... it takes a hell of a lot, if anything, for me to truly burn my bridges. Way back when, Dad told me not to, and he did so over and over again. So, I didn't.
Y: What did your boss say when you complained?
M: She admitted to having handled it wrong, and left open the possibility of talking about it with El Presidente. But that... I don't know that it would accomplish anything, at this point. Anyway, we still need to talk once or twice more to iron a few things out... I bailed out when I sensed that I was on the verge of getting too upset. After that, I went for a long walk. And because I'm me...
Y: OK, nerd, what did you listen to?
M: Initially, I put on My Bloody Valentine's Loveless. That was my angry, confused, drony guitar feedback wall kind of... you know, I didn't know where I was, whether I actually wanted to think or tune out, laugh or cry, that sort of thing... so... yeah. Then I changed gears completely and threw in some Polyphonic Spree. Which was completely idiotic (but wonderful) hyperpositivity ("hey, it's the sun, and it makes me shine" kinda lyrics), sung by cult members in robes. It accomplished the desired effect-- it picked me up a good bit. And since that point, I've been listening to a lot of Coltrane. A Love Supreme, in particular.
Y: You gave that some thought.
M: No, I'm just an enormous tool.
Y: You're going to be OK, right? I mean, I'm upset that you didn't call me, but... the main thing is...
M: I know. I'm sorry. I didn't speak to everyone, and in fact, I've spoken with very few people since this happened. But... you know it's nothing personal. You know I love you.
Y: Whoa-- calm down.
M: Ah-- sorry.
Y: Anyway, you'll let me know if you need anything, right?
M: Do you know anyone who wants to buy a house?