It's Friday afternoon and I'm still here!

Yea!

Mr. Big just had an official meeting with all of us who are left. He set the record straight and stemmed any rumors. The cuts in this team didn't go too deep (3 let go, 2 reassigned). He believes this will be IT. Not 3 this month, 2 next month, another 5 in April. No, this is IT. (At least for the time being.)

That last one, for me, was the most important. Control over my own destiny is a BIG issue for me (just ask my poor shrink), and the waiting, the not knowing, was the worst. I am not at all good at that. It wears me out. I think I'd find it easier to be let go than just waiting to learn my fate.

But now I have a stress-free weekend ahead of me! And maybe I can even begin planning a vacation ...

Of the 3 who were let go, one gentleman completely knew it was coming, and he was pretty funny about it. "I hope they do it in the morning. I hope they do it soon." He promised his daughter he'd visit her at U of I this weekend and he wanted to be on the road before traffic got too bad. I didn't know the other two well at all, so I don't have to worry about survivor guilt kicking in tomorrow. (Sometimes that's as bad as the stress.)

Thank you to my well-wishers in the blogosphere. Sometimes I'm more candid on this blog than I am with people I see day in and day out. It was a relief to share my worries, and to receive your support in return.

It's starting up -- hot'n'heavy -- again

"We can't make it past February."

"Gary is so sure it's happening Friday, he must know something."

"I heard it will be Tuesday and it will be massive."

"Why do you think that all of a sudden they want all our timesheets in and up to date?"

I've tried to rise above it … not to listen to it … but it's getting to me and I can't sleep. The writing on the wall first appeared in October, and this week it's been becoming more and more vivid. I've been doing this for decades and I know the signs.

While I'm not in love with this job, I'm doing what I can to hang onto it because opportunities in my field are, at best, limited.

I have a cushion of savings set aside. My mortgage is paid in advance. I estimate that my tax refund will go a long way toward paying my mom's medicare supplement insurance. This is my mantra, my way of reminding myself I'm better equipped to handle this than the many, many other Americans who are in my same position.

But I'm still so freaking frightened. Especially in the wee small hours of the morning. My cat Charlotte is right here by my side, quiet and attentive. She seems to sense that I could use a little support.

Desire Under the Elms

I've been so preoccupied by my modern office drama that I neglected to post about my exposure to a classic American tragedy on Wednesday night. This Goodman production stars Brian Dennehy, who has developed quite a following for his portrayals of O'Neill heroes. (Though "hero" is an odd way to describe Ephraim.) But it was Carla Gugino who really rocked. Bold, carnal and fueled by desperation, her Abby and his Ephraim collide like two forces of nature. Young Eben can't help but be destroyed by the heat they generate.

God I love having theater like this available to me, just a half hour from my home!