everything’s ok; i haven’t got a job in the world

Without saying the specific name of the bookstore I work at, when I say I’m about to lose my job there, I think you can put two and two together.

I’m having to force myself to take an objective approach to the demise of the company I’ve worked for all year. After all, I keep telling myself, I’m moving away from here in about two months anyway, to a state that didn’t have a branch to begin with. I was going to be jobless by October no matter what.

The trouble is, there’s now 10,700 other people right along with me, and among them are some of the finest, quirkiest, nicest people I have had the pleasure of working with in the five years I’ve been in the workforce. When my thoughts turn to them, and the fact that not all of them were planning to leave like I was, that’s when things start to have an impact on me.

I couldn’t eat during my break tonight. Waves of unsettling sensations emanated from the pit of my stomach. My cheeks got hot and my eyes watered. This is only the first day since the announcement came, I chided myself, how are you ever going to make it through the rest of this? Then I thought about why I was feeling like this: I could see the sadness in my co-workers. I could hear it in their wavering, quieter-than-usual voices. My co-workers, my colleagues… my friends, are hurting. And that hurts me.

My insistence that I listen to music that suits my situations and moods doesn’t help either. Con te Partiro by Andrea Bocelli is playing right now and I just had to fight another wave of that feeling.

I’m sitting here trying to think what my mantra for the next few weeks is going to be. I have to keep telling myself something to keep me from falling to pieces randomly.

I have to be truthful with the situation at hand: The store may be last another eight weeks at most, but the odds are I will be let go before then. This is going to cause a financial cramp with regard to my move, but it is not going to stop it. I have Tyler. If nothing else, I have Tyler. He is my partner and this is what partners gear up for.

As much as I want to just hit a fast-forward button past this unpleasantness, I have to endure. This may not be a particularly tough time under my circumstances, but mine are not the same circumstances as the other 15 people I work with at this store.

Despite how much some of them aggravate me (this is a workplace after all), I still feel for them. And if I didn’t feel for them, I dread to think the person I would be.


All will be well

even after all the promises you’ve broken to yourself.

All will be well

you can ask me how, but only time will tell

Gabe Dixon Band, “All Will Be Well”



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