For the fifty-somethingth time in a long and varied career of supporting myself with jobs that really aren't worth taking the time to do, I find myself taking leave of my employment. The way it happened is this: My job is being consolidated, but I'm not. Actually, the company I'm working for is treating me just fine on my departure; I have no complaints. No lawsuits shall be forthcoming, no anonymous tips to an investigative reporter. They're giving me a small clump of money, and I am going away. Everybody's happy.
The funny thing about this to me so far has to do with the people I have notified of my departure who have not yet returned my email. This can be expected in these situations, but I always have to wonder why most people are so silent. Are they afraid of being unconsolidated as well in a kind of weird guilt by association? Is it the stench of failure, even though I feel a sense of accomplishment and liberation? (I should write more about that liberation thing and get it translated into Arabic for the benefit of all my fans in Baghdad.) Am I now considered one of the unclean? Are they afraid that I'll hit them up for money or a job? Or are they just jealous because they are still manacled to their desks while I get to experience the heady brew of freedom?
Who knows? Maybe it's a mixture, a sloe gin fizz of fear and resentment. Or maybe it's something I've yet to consider. Could be, could be!
The point really is that I've been given a small chance to better myself in this deal. My ejection from the world of corporate stooges comes just at the moment that I am pushing the show forward. Can this be a coincidence? Of course it can, but I'm not going to consider that for a second. The Fates are conspiring, and, for once, I'm getting in on the ground floor.