Up & Out - Ariella Papa [63]
We sit on the couch for the entire weekend watching movies, ordering takeout and playing the boxing video game. We do not talk about my job. I do not check my cell phone. And, in case you’re wondering, we do not have sex.
Monday is my first official day as an unemployed person. Tommy has to work at the store. He promises to bring home some movies. I make a pot of coffee and watch The View. I don’t even want to think about getting another job. Ever. I can live like this; relaxing in the air-conditioning, watching The View. We’ve got cable. I can start icing my coffee. It will be great.
There are several messages from people I work(ed) with. Everyone recaps the Monday morning meeting that Hackett attended and how the news was announced as if I decided to leave on my own, even though he knows very well that everyone knows that isn’t true. Each person has a different choice word for Hackett and Delores and everyone reiterates how low morale is and how they will never look either of those two in the eye or help them if they see them lying in the street. I think about taping all of these messages and doing some kind of experimental art project. Maybe that is how I will earn my living.
Each message ends with “we have to get together soon.” And I count my blessings that I work(ed) with such amazing people. In retrospect I feel like a gladiator who was cheered as I went into battle to get decapitated. I guess that counts for something, right?
I have yet to inform anyone other than Tommy or people I work with about the news. I give myself one more day of sloth and watch all three Back to the Future DVDs with Tommy.
On Tuesday, I reorganize the kitchen cabinets and clean the toilet. I return all of my work phone calls. The latest news is that Claire Wylini is on temporary disability for some suspicious back problem, but everyone knows she is getting fired. I return the calls from Kathy and Lauryn who each left me confused messages after I sent the e-mail about my change of contact info. I also tell them about the Seamus situation—or lack of one.
“It sucks about your job, but that Seamus sounded kind of like a dick, anyway. I think you were just transitioning,” Lauryn says, using that funny businesslike word. “Why don’t you come up here in a couple of weeks?”
“It’s tempting, but I should probably start looking for a job.”
“Are you kidding? Just enjoy yourself. It’s like free money. I wish I had a job to get laid off from.” This from a girl who is spending the summer on a vacation island looking at birds. I assure her that I’ll consider it. I’m still kind of reluctant to make any plans, although if I did get a job my severance would stop. And I intend to make Explore! pay for every last bit of my termination fee.
Lauryn sounds happier than she has in years. She fills me in on her days of sun, birds and seafood. I promise to go visit.
“I got canned,” I tell Kathy. She gasps.
“Oh, honey, are you okay? You kind of knew it, though. You were kind of prepared, right?”
“Well, I guess so, but it still felt weird to have only an hour to clean out my stuff.”
“I know,” she says. I think this is sort of par for the course in her industry. “Now you can be a lady who lunches for a while.”
That does sound sort of intriguing, although in this town it takes money to lunch. Kathy is full of self-serving ideas.
“Now you can be one of those people who go to Bryant Park at like three o’clock with a big blanket to stake out a good spot for the Monday-night movies.”
“Great.”
“Maybe you can even run some wedding errands for me!” Kathy sounds like she is getting ahead of herself.
“Um, we’ll see about that.” I tell her about Seamus and she seems a little distracted. I think I hear her lightly tapping her computer keys in the background.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, honey.” I know that she is sorry for me, that is, because she thinks that at twenty-seven, we are bordering on being old maids.