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Well, we didn’t EXACTLY get fired.
The politician put it like this….
Our Agency, all four of us, are being transferred from the Department of Interdepartmental Confusion to the Office of Nonsense, the State’s Technology and Information Experts. [Actual State Agency Names changed at the insistence of the Desk’s bookie’s psychic friends’ paralegal.]
This move had already been engraved in the Stones from the Mount.
However, don’t bother unpacking, because the Office of Nonsense will be ELIMINATED two years from now.
“But nobody is going to be Laid Off.”
The Lady In Charge kept saying that.
“Nobody will be laid off.”
I thought Nobody was an outfielder on Bud and Lou’s baseball team.
“Who’s on first…”
We won’t go there.
The Lady In Charge was quite emphatic about that, she said it about nine times. But the Desk hasn’t spent Ten Years in State Service for nothing. The only thing definite about dealing with decisions by politicians that are ‘guaranteed’ is that nothing is ‘guaranteed’. The current Legislature and Governor cannot speak for the next one. What is a sure thing now is up in the air for tomorrow.
“What’s on Second.”
But this is all going to happen in THIS administration. By the time the Current Governor is up for re-election this will all be old news. Yesterday’s breakfast. Something like that. I don’t know.
“Third base.”
The Office of Nonsense has been under fire for several years. At times, it seemed like they were going out of their way to embarrass themselves and various parts of State Government. They installed a radio system that only worked if you were within sight of the tower. The State’s Web presence has rivaled that of other Governmental bodies like East Bejesus, Ohio and Podunk, Kansas. Email’s regularly bounce, attachments get chewed, and WEB based applications lock up to the point of being a running gag. Voice systems are set up that would serve nicely for, say, the World Trade Center, in an office with five people and a FAX machine.
So they have essentially dug their own hole.
And the consensus is that they have poisoned the waters for everybody else that works in any sort of technology. It’s time to clean house. Out with the old, in with the new.
Consolidate the problems. Put all your eggs in one basket. Then throw the basket off the nearest bridge.
While it is true, to some degree, that Merit Employees can’t be laid off. You can be promoted out, your position can be left unfunded in the next budget, you can be transferred to Mosquito Control three miles out in a swamp on the other end of the State. No, you’re not laid off. But suddenly that ‘you want fries with that?’ place sounds real attractive. Maybe you can do it today, but tomorrow?
“Tomorrow is pitching.”
The lady tried to sugar coat it and smooth all the feathers that got as ruffled as a chicken that had argued with an electric fence.
Some of the Desk’s compatriots took it better than others.
The Fiancee, a lady that had just gotten engaged, sat with a knowing smile and tried to stay out of the ensuing argument and recriminations.
The Other Guy had also been around the block a few times as well. He knows how things work, and tried to get some guarantee in writing that he wouldn’t be wondering if his unemployment check would be direct deposited. He didn’t get it. The Lady In Charge offered him a copy of The Bill, but, as stated above, a copy of The Bill and handful of quarters can almost get you a cup of coffee in the State House’s cafeteria.
The Desk’s Boss looked like he had that feeling described by an Old Jewish Curse. “You look like the Man just dug your grave.” The Boss had His Dream Job. He had a corner office with a nice view. He had just the responsibilities he wanted, a staff that did their jobs with minimal heartache, and a future that looked, if not rosy, at least decent. Now, with the stroke of a politician’s pen, he was basically being shown the door and told to ‘have a nice day.’
As for the Desk. The Desk knew it was coming. It was in The Perfect Job for the Desk. Just like the time the Desk was in an elevator with two University of Delaware Cheerleaders. It was too good to last. For almost three years the Desk has done stuff that nobody else wanted to do, and had time to do what the Desk wanted to do. And now, well, it’s over. No getting stuck between floors. No sudden power outage. Just two quick smiles from the fourth floor to the first and it’s all over. Forever.
As for the Boss’s Boss. She was there as well. And she knows from where the axe falls. There was nothing she could do or say to make it better. Whether or not she knew it was coming is an open question that is essentially meaningless. It was coming. There was exactly naught she could do about it. And she has her own hide to protect. Even if she had questioned the Lady In Charge the answer she got would be the same as the one everybody else got. “Because.”
“He’s in Center Field.”
Well. The Desk has already done a search for other jobs. Here and elsewhere. The notice was scarcely two hours old and the Desk was polishing its resume to make it look worthwhile to some outfit in Indianapolis.
Yes, it will work across the street for the Office of Nonsense. If left alone to do its job, the Desk is pretty sure it can work for The Anti-Christ. It had practice at the Jail. No, its boss there wasn’t the Anti-Christ… Stalin Reincarnated on a Bad Day… maybe.
It was nice.
And the Desk realizes that for almost Three Years it was now a Dream.
And like all Good Dreams, you have to wake up.
The elevator gets to the Ground Floor. The doors open. And the Cheerleaders go away. And the Dream is Over.
It becomes a Memory.
For whatever else This Job was.
Whatever it Becomes after the beginning of The Fiscal Year.
It was A Great Job.
Now What?
We move on.
And we do what we do wherever they tell us to do it. While looking for that exit stage right.
And, at least for The Desk… we write it up and post it and…
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