49 years, 1 week and 3 days old.
Degenerative Disc Disease
Protruding disc in lower back pressing into nerves
Constant, consistent low back pain
Arthritis in feet
Anemic
Stress incontinance
Wind
Rain
Traffic
Two miles in 25 minutes and 2 seconds
I’ll take it.
“You are married to this job, Donlyn, you need to step back and get some perspective.” I barely heard the board member’s compassion as she tried to help me understand why I was being let go. That was 1993 and I was completely blindsided by my dismissal as the executive director of a non-profit agency. In my four years at the agency, I took the budget from $100,000 year to $400,000. Under my tenacity and leadership, we expanded from a 3 county service area with one facility to a 9 county service area with 3 fully funded facilities.
My position and my work in the cities and towns the agency served was high profile. I was well known, my speaking calendar was full, I was called for commentary any time a story pertaining to my field was in the news. How could I be dimissed, *poof* with no warning? I was devastated.
The board sent 3 members, the “personnel posse” to break the news. I was in my office on a sunny February day. When I saw the board members come in the front office, I was pleasantly surprised. Board members seldom took an interest in the day to day operations of our agency. But I soon picked up that this was not to be a pleasant visit.
No reason was given. I was told I was no longer needed. I knew that was not true at that particular moment as our state and federal audit was scheduled in the next 2 weeks and our United Way grant application was due in a month. With that information, I pointed out that they did, in fact, need me at least another 6 weeks. Of course I asked why. I got no answer other than I was no longer needed.
I sensed that the 3 women sent to do this deed were not comfortable or happy about what they were doing. They were just messengers. It took a while – maybe 30 minutes – for me to shut up and let it sink in. Yes, I was crying. One of the personnel posse stayed in the outer office as I packed up my personal belongings. It took several trips from the office to my car to get everything loaded. Since we were a non profit, I brought many personal items to use in my office to save precious dollars of the agency’s money. My typewriter, the coffee pot and small microwave, a side table, and other items had to go with me.
Being devastated is not a good emotion to carry with you into a new job hunt. The financial position of my family was in the desperate, barely making it paycheck to paycheck realm. I could not afford to go without a paycheck for long. Unemployment benefits were a very small help, not enough to replace my paycheck. In my confusion and distressed emotional condition, I had to put on the big girl panties and a smile and go find a job. Fast.
When someone close to you dies, you are encouraged to give yourself time to grieve. Most widows aren’t dating the day after their husband’s funeral. Well, OK, some are, but they were probably dating before his funeral as well. When someone gets divorced, they are encouraged to wait a respectable period of time before they date again.
I’m not a psychologist, although I love to hand out assvice, but I’m thinking primary relationships we all have are families, jobs and social groups we belong to. My job loss felt like a divorce. I was trying to figure out what happened but yet I had to move on quickly. There was no time for reflection or wondering what I would do next. I had to get going. To me it was like trying to find a new husband in 2 weeks. Although I have friends who have actually accomplished that feat, I wasn’t up to it.
It took 5 weeks to find my next job. I took a 20% pay cut, but I was offered medical insurance. I went from a high profile executive director, well known in 9 counties, to an administrative assistant for a VP. I was not embarrassed with my backwards move on the career path. Reality was reality. I HAD to have a job and I took the best thing offered to me.
My self esteem took a savage beating in my firing. I painted a smile on my face every day I walked into that office but on the inside I was holding back tears. I was trying to make new friends but it was hard. I had no confidence, I was emotionally distressed and most of the women in my office were single and sophisticated. I had two kids at home and my husband at the time was a farmer. They got off work and went to sunset parties, I went home and busted clods with a breaking plow.
I spent a lot of time observing my new coworkers. I realized I did not have the right clothes. I did not have $10 a day to go out to lunch. I didn’t get to socialize with them during the week or weekends for that matter. They seemed to be a close bunch, but welcoming at the same time.
Just 3 weeks after I started working there, it was my 33rd birthday. No one knew and I didn’t tell anyone. I was still struggling inside and out with all I had experienced in the past couple of months. Birthdays are reflective times and I was reflecting hard. My marriage was shit, my husband was shit, I had worked my way up and I was knocked down so fast and without warning. I was in a job I had to have but couldn’t bond with. It was my birthday, I was 33 and life was too short to be this miserable. I was sad about where I was and I didn’t see how I would ever get beyond the gloom and doom that had become my life.
Then the worst thing that could possibly happen happened. The receptionist was coming toward my desk with roses and a big smile. At first the site of the roses perked me up. I thought nice things of my shit husband and considered if he sent those, he would move up a few notches on my list. He had not acknowledged my birthday that morning, there had been no happy birthday call from him and it was 2 pm.
I looked at the card and felt disappointment again. The roses were from my mother. OK, let’s give my mom points for trying to cheer me up, but I didn’t feel appreciative on that day. All of the sudden everyone in the office knew it was my birthday and I did not want that attention. I wanted to blend into the cube walls, I didn’t fit in, I didn’t want any attention. I had to go to the bathroom and fight to stop the tears. I could have made it OK if those stupid roses had not arrived!
I tried to stay busy and acknowledge the random birthday wishes with a smile. I was fighting harder to hold back the tears of sadness and frustration.
Just before 3 pm,I was asked me to come to the conference room. I walked in with my notebook and there they all were…my new coworkers. They had a birthday cake and balloons for me. Yes, I cried. That day started a change in me.
It took a lot of encouragement from my new coworkers. It took my manager telling me to be the confident, poised woman he interviewed again, It took being handed responsibility and told “I know you can do this” and it took months, but I finally got my confidence back. I found out that summer why I was fired from the non profit agency. It was a politically motivated move on the part of an attorney on the board who had aspirations to be elected judge. She needed the right people on her side and part of that was helping the right people get the right jobs. I was not the only victim of her politically motivated shake ups in the community. I laughed when she was defeated in that election in the fall.
I got to know my new coworkers and I am still friends with many of them, although it has been years since we all worked together. As I became myself at work, I accomplished many things. I was employee of the year for our division in my second year. I was promoted to VP right after my four year anniversary with the company. I continued to move up in my career. When I left after 12 years with the company, I was an SVP. Mycompensation the last year I worked there was 10 times my starting salary. And along the way, I divorced the shit husband and sent my mom flowers on her birthday.
When I think back on being fired that first time, it was devastating. It beat my self esteem to a pulp. I felt hopeless for a while, driven forward only by my need to survive. Going back to work in a job that was so far beneath what I had done and excelled in was hard. I didn’t fit in, I was scared, I needed to work and although I wanted better for myself, I was damned grateful for what I had. It was one of the top 10 most stressful times of my life.
But getting fired was the single best thing that ever happened to me in my career. And I am not afraid for it to happen again.
This week has not be as easy nor are we as excited about our new way of living.
I made my husband go to the grocery store with me so that he could pick out what he wanted and I would not pick up things he didn’t want. This happens frequently. My husband takes his lunch and a sackful of snacks to work everyday. He gets tired of the same old stuff week after week. Sometimes he gets so tired of stuff he just refuses to eat it and it sits in our pantry and expires. No more! We are Living Broke, we can’t afford to be wasteful.
My husband is not a fan of grocery shopping and I am not a fan of his grouchy company in the Walmart SuperCenter. We made it in and out in record time and spent $118.
My husband is skeptical about this entire budget initiative. He’s going along with it, but not peaceably. This may be detrimental to his happiness going forward.
He doesn’t buy beer often and I don’t buy wine often. However, when you’re on a budget or a diet for that matter, you tend to focus on what you can’t have and not what you really want. We don’t imbibe often but suddenly he realized he didn’t have beer at home. I told him beer and wine would come out of the grocery budget and he grunted.
On Saturday we were to make a 65 mile one way trip to visit his family. The plan and my commitment to the plan was to drive up, visit for a couple of hours and bring two of our grandsons back to spend the night. By the time this plan went through numerous adjustments, changes, accusations, screams and demands, it was clear to me that my husband’s particular family member orchestrating the whole ordeal was going to keep us hung out for hours on end. I had dinner in the crock pot with a estimated dinner time of 6. I did not want nor intend to get hung out at the mercy of a control freak, passive aggressive, spiteful, mean young woman just for the hell of it. I know and love my husband and in knowing him, I know that he has and always will cowtow to demands like this so I told him the only way I would accompany him on this clustered excursion was to drive my own car so that I could come home before midnight. He was not happy.
In his mind “marriage” means “joined at the hip forever and ever amen.” In my mind married means a foot rub when I ask for it and someone to kill spiders for me. In his anger that I would not endure his lovely family and the ever-changing plans he said “driving up there in 2 cars just wastes gas! Don’t say anything else to me about a budget.”
Yes. I did. I slapped him down quickly on that one. I figured with my new, fuel efficient compact car, I spent $5.37 in gas to drive up there on my own. That is a bargain compared to what my bail bond would have been if I had been trapped in his daughter’s home with no escape or release date. Once I finished with him over that comment, I rested assured that he would never use “budget” as a weapon in a disagreement of any sort lest I take it away from him and beat him to a pulp with it again.
I came home Saturday at 4. At 6 pm, my husband called and asked if it was still OK with me to bring the grandsons home. I never turn down grandbaby time! I had to quickly run to the store and spend $9 for food the 4 year old would eat.
I looked at the pay per view channels and saw Wall-E listed. That would make a great movie night for a 4 year old! However, once we settled in to watch the movie, it was a premium channel we don’t get. The 4 year old was not happy. We told him we would stop at Walmart after church on Sunday and buy the movie since we promised him we would watch it. And we did. $20.00
I had planned to get some work done last weekend in preparation for my business trip that began with a 2:30 flight on Monday. Having the grandsons around meant no work time for me.
I got up early Monday morning and began a mad rush to get everything done for my trip. I began the process of printing out hundreds of pages of color presentation materials. I fielded phone calls and of course since I didn’t have time for issues, I got more than a normal Monday’s share. I had grand plans to leave my office around 11:45, pack my suitcase, enjoy a quick bite of lunch and leave at 12:45 for a 1:45 arrival at the airport. HA! By the time 10 am arrived, I was tempted to call HR and fire myself just so I wouldn’t have to finish out the day.
I sprinted down the stairs loaded down with my briefcase and files, I pitched and tossed clothes and shoes into my suitcase, grabbed things out of the bathroom cabinet, could not find my bag with my nail stuff in it, zipped up the suitcase, ran to the car with it and hoped both the shoes I packed were the same color. I threw a piece of ham on a piece of bread, grabbed a bottle of water and sped out of the driveway.
And you know when you’re running late, everything that can go wrong will go wrong. Like heavy traffic and incompetent people at every point of contact it takes to actually get to the gate. And I know the only reason that TSA agent made me take off my sweater was so he could see my bra. Asshole.
I got through security, got dressed and ran to my gate barefooted. Yes, I am so professional when I travel. Always representing the company with my best sock foot forward.
There were issues on the plane that are worthy of their own post, so I’ll save those for later. I thought about all I had to do once I landed. I didn’t have all my printing done, so I would need to find a Kinko’s. Any my nails? I gave up manicures for Living Broke, but I had to do something about my hands before I sat in front of important CEO people the next day.
Once I arrived in Kansas City, I drove quickly to my destination. I broke the no manicure rule and paid $15 for a manicure and conversation with a Vietnamese woman I couldn’t understand.
Once on the road, all my expenses for meals and the glass of wine I had for dinner are not my personal expenses. I am a frugal travel not because I am a tight wad but because I live the way I live and eat what I eat no matter who is paying for it. I know and love people who are extravagant on the company’s dime. I got news for you, that big ole fat steak and order of bacon cheese fries may be free, but it is still 9,000 calories and it will expand your ass. Literally. I’ll take a $5 Subway turkey on wheat please.
I arrived home late Wednesday night. On Thursday, my husband and I had to speed to the accountant’s office in the city to sign our tax return. We had gift cards to a couple of restaurants so we went to dinner afterwards. After we used our gift cards, we both chipped in $4 to cover the rest of the bill and tips.
I had committed to making a donation to a non profit that is close to my heart for a silent auction. Yikes! Where would that come from? I scoured the junk drawer and found an unused $10 Walmart gift card. I was willing to fork over a few more dollars to get something decent. I found a set of new grill tools, a vintage looking Barrell of Monkeys game and a stuff animal. Total $19.71. I used the gift card an paid $9.71.
So we survived another week. Today is Friday, it is grocery day again. I’m hoping to have a little bit of grocery money left to buy a banned item – like one bag of Kona coffee. But then I reminded myself that I need to get little Easter things for our grandchildren. There goes the coffee for at least another week.
I saved all my laundry for tomorrow because it is supposed to be nice outside and I have a clothes line. After paying our 4th astronomical utility bill this week, the dryer is grounded! It will not get to dry our clothes unless is it an emergency. It costs nothing to hang them out on the clothesline and they smell better dried on the line.
I’m sure Living Broke will get harder as we get into this week. However, we must do it and I know we will.
