Torn

Suddenly I’m not so sure my “life after cubicles / life after layoff” series was such a good idea.

Encouraging stories started popping up, and I was compelled to tell them. It seemed, for the first time in many dark months, that a few people were starting to move on with their lives and find new hope. I’ve written two, and I have several more in the hopper. But now I’m second-guessing myself. For as many seed pearls of hope I find strewn amongst the rubble, I find even more who are still wedged between the rocks.

Perhaps I’m naïve, even at this advanced age. Personally, I love stories of people who reach beyond pre-conceived limitations, spread their wings, soar to new heights of possibility they had never considered before -- and by their example, encourage those who were yet struggling. Altruistic and idealistic, I was motivated by a grandiose vision of perhaps helping my laid-off friends and colleagues find a new flight path of their own, if only by being a voice to tell the stories.

But I think it may be doing more harm than good. Not everyone is encouraged by others' success.

Too many people are still struggling. Too many people meet disappointment every day. As one person told me yesterday, “I’ve lost my ‘happy.’ I’ve lost my smile."

Or: "Is there something wrong with me because I don't have a story like that to tell? I just want my old cubicle back...."

It’s easy enough for me to sit here and write my silly little blog and hope for world peace, because I still have a job to go to. It’s definitely not fair, and therefore perhaps it’s not right for me to continue.

Most of the time I don’t even want to say anything when things go well, because others respond with: “must be nice; my life sucks.” When I complain about work, they say, “at least you have a job to complain about.” So when I say nothing at all, I’m accused of not caring or communicating.

I don’t have much to offer, just the power of the pen, and I thought perhaps I would wield it for something other than my paycheck for a change.

I’m torn.

Cruise ships and concealed weapons

Sue was a graphic designer and exhibits manager at The Big Company and was very good at it. She designed exhibits for trade shows, and oversaw the creation of everything her clients needed to pull off a big event: booth design, messages, graphics, in-booth talent, promotions, tents, and more. Folks sought her out. She was very creative and easy to work with.

Best of all, she really loved what she did. After 12 years with the company, she found her niche and was building a huge following with her internal clients. She was making great money and incredibly proud of herself.

Despite her talents and stellar reputation, Sue’s name popped up on the layoff spreadsheet. Marketing budgets simply vaporized.

When management broke the news to her, they told her she might be called back as the economy improved in a year or so. But they also told her there were no guarantees and she should move on with her life.

And with that, she packed her cardboard box and left. The entire floor seemed deserted that day; even the survivors left because there was simply too much bad news seeping into every corner.

Grief set in. What made matters worse was no one from her work group got in touch with her – it’s as if everyone disappeared. Was it out of guilt or lack of compassion or just plain fear? It didn’t matter – their silence only exacerbated the hurt. “It was horrible,” Sue remembers.

For a month she allowed herself time to get over the shock. But then she pulled herself together and starting the great job search. Taking the traditional route, Sue began applying to hundreds of jobs online, nationwide. She was willing to go wherever the work was. But to no avail. Each posted opening would receive thousands and thousands of applicants. She grew depressed as she watched people from the window of her downtown condo heading off to work each morning.

She knew she needed a plan B, and she needed it quickly. She drove from the Midwest down to Sarasota, Florida to investigate the traditional job market there. That’s when serendipity intervened.

Several people Sue met in Sarasota remarked she should go into business for herself and quit giving away her talents and selling herself short. But she didn’t know how to make that happen. One day, she was cleaning out her email spam folder and found an ad for franchising opportunities in the travel and cruising industry. Wow -- she loved to travel, but she'd never thought about travel as a career. Sue decided to investigate the company and see if this was something for her.

After a great deal of research and satisfied with what she learned, she took a leap of faith and made a gutsy move. She cleaned out her emergency savings and bought into the cruise franchise.

Sue attended training sessions, inspected some of the ships, and developed a real respect for the industry. “The ships are magnificent … the attention to detail, the workmanship, the choices, the adventure, the destinations … the people.” But, she says, the best part of her new business will be the ability to travel with the special groups and be their host for the receptions, shore excursions and activities.

Ultimately, Sue wants to set up permanent shop for her new business in Sarasota. She joined the Sarasota Chamber of Commerce and will begin issuing press releases next month. In the meantime, she is learning by leaps and bounds and is thoroughly enjoying a liberating lifestyle.

Sue planned that it would take a full year to begin making money – but she says, “Just watch me!” Without spending a dime in advertising, she already has a website, customers flooding in, and an ever-expanding lead list of affluent retirees in Florida. Sue’s family and friends are getting into the game, helping her network and drum up potential clients. She even has an associate in California working with her now, putting together a class reunion cruise.

“What will make my new company successful in the end is not my pricing. It will be the relationships I develop with my customers and the personal service I can provide (just like I did back at The Big Company). Travel agents are coming back! There are many people who don’t want to surf the internet for the cheapest way to travel. They want one person to call to get the job done right, and then be there to help them through the experience.” Sue says with a wide grin, “And that’s gonna be me!”

There’s one more big change Sue’s gone through the past 6 months…
“Because I am traveling alone so much I bought a gun, learned to shoot, and took courses to carry a concealed weapon legally. Another unexpected learning experience!”

We’ll see what happens if The Big Company calls her back. But by then, Sue will probably be off at sea, raking in big bucks, and having the time of her life.

Check out her website: http://www.cruisingencounters.com/

From Corporate Powerhouse to Free-Wheeling First Mate

I don't think there's a single person out there who hasn't dreamed of chucking it all and sailing off into the sunset, in one way or another.

Well, Annie's doing exactly that. Literally. Sailing off into the sunset. For real.

She traded in her high-powered, high-pressure, high-paying job for the high seas. She's sailing the world with her Tom and her EMMA. (Tom's her gorgeous man; EMMA's her gorgeous sailboat.)

Annie fell in love with sailing a few years back and planned her vacations around charters and lessons. She met Tom at a sailing class in Florida and fell in love with him, too. Both had dreamed of sailing around the world as a lifestyle, not just as an extended vacation. Tom had already decided he was going to do it: he'd begun plans to leave his construction job in Ohio and go hunt for the right sailboat. Now, with a partner and a shared dream, Tom and Annie set off together.

Annie and Tom tell the story much better than I can. They have their own blog, in which they've been chronicling their story, right back to the day they found EMMA in a boatyard in Newport, Rhode Island, and throughout the months of preparation until EMMA was seaworthy: sailblogs.com/member/emma.

Now they're at anchor in Annapolis, Maryland, where they've spent the last few months bonding with local sailors and preparing themselves for an autumn journey south to greet warmer seas before winter sets in. Tom's been earning some money by refurbishing a schooner (One World) in a local yachtyard. They are going to be part of the crew who helps deliver One World to the British Virgin Islands.

My joy was meeting up with them this summer and witnessing firsthand the remarkable transformation Annie has made, from Corporate Powerhouse to Free-Wheeling First Mate. She's relaxed, she's happy, she's learned to live simply. She makes bags from old sails and sews canvas dodgers for paying clients. She rows a dinghy ashore with her foldable bike to shop local farmers' markets. She bakes cookies and apple pan dowdy in her tiny galley.

I hope you'll follow Annie and Tom's blog as they set out for far shores. It's not very often you a real tale of two courageous people who risked everything and did what the rest of us only dream about: chucking it all and sailing off into the sunset.

Life after cubicles

Blink your eye and 6 months fly by.

We're all plodding away, riding the waves of "rolling" layoff. Nobody's feeling sorry for themselves, though: we still can't forget those folks who walked out the door for good with those cardboard boxes.

The past year has given everyone a chance to think about life after cubicles. No longer complacent, no longer arrogant, no longer feeling safe or entitled to a job with a company for life, many of us have used our "laycations" wisely. We've spent extra time with our families. We've reconnected with what's important. We've thought about life beyond this place: "what would I do if I couldn't come back here? What's my Plan B? C? D? I didn't have a back-up plan when all this hit. I sure as hell better have one now."

Some people can't -- or don't want to -- see beyond the walls of their cubicles. And that's fine, if that suits them. But for others, being laid off (permanently or just now and then), separated, retired, or otherwise, has opened their eyes to a world of possibility.

Here are just a few I know about, but I plan to scout around and tell you more stories. Former cube-dwellers are now:

• Buying a furniture refinishing business.


• Establishing a franchise as a travel agent for the major cruise lines.


• Writing a book.


• Designing golf clubs.


• Finishing a master's degree.


• Building a billiard's bar.


• Sailing the world (literally).

Whadya know? There's a world out there. Lots more coming on this subject.

Rag dolls

We left-behinds are tossed about like rag dolls....

"Go work for him. No, wait! Go work for her. No, on second thought, pack up your stuff again (but don't hurt your back when you move your boxes, so be sure to bend your knees) and move over there and work for them."


Q. What is my job?
A. We don't know. Just do something till we tell you to stop and do something else.

Q. Who is my boss?
A. That has yet to be determined. For now, just take direction from anyone who approaches you in your cubicle.

Q. Will I make the same salary?
A. Oh, now that's a good question. We are reevaluating compensation structure, cutting base pay, eliminating incentive pay and merit increases, slashing benefits and pensions, and will probably end up asking you to pay US for the privilege of working here. So just wait to see what's in your next paycheck -- if you get one. Payroll people have been laid off, so there will be some glitches.

Q. How can I function?
A. Just be glad you have a job.

Good tidings?

Housing starts up 22% in February.

Durable goods orders increased 3.4 percent in February, and purchases of new homes jumped 4.7 percent.

Stock market has rallied and surged 21 percent since hitting 12-year lows.

Could this mean we had finally hit bottom?

Mini trips

I just finished a Skype video call with my future husband, who's all the way across the country right now, visiting friends. I was supposed to be with him on this mini-trip, but I didn't go because I was too afraid of leaving work when everyone is being laid off. (Now's not the time to be gone on mini-trips.)

Then I got to thinking, after we all blew kisses and "wish-we-were-together"s at each other -- what's the point? Why didn't I go? What difference would it have made if I were here or not? If they're going to get to my name on the layoff spreadsheet, they will if I'm on a mini-trip or not. And out of fear I missed a few irreplaceable days with the man I love, and some wonderful people who love us.

I've spent far too many years picking work over the people I love, despite my best efforts not to. And was it out of ambition? Loyalty? Passion for what I do? No. None of the above. It was out of fear. Fear of losing my livelihood. Fear of ending up living in squallor. And worst of all, fear of being dependent on someone else.

My future husband lives in another city, so we do a lot of Skype calling. We'll keep doing it, because we both have to hang on to some sort of livelihood.

Moving on

So I spent a rainy Sunday working on a laid-off colleague's resume. It felt good to do something positive for somebody, to help her think about the future and moving on. It's still incredibly difficult for people who've spent so much of their careers and lives devoted to one company to even conceive of working somewhere else. "We thought we'd be here always. We thought it would be here for us."

But wow -- you should see her credentials. Her experience! Her accomplishments! Until I put her through a grueling exercise to really think about what she had to offer, she didn't understand it thoroughly herself. Maybe this is a first step for her.

I can't find her a job. But maybe I helped give her a powerful new tool for her toolbox: confidence.

Great NYTimes article: how to help a laid-off friend

This is great.

NYTimes March 21

Another bloggee

Don't even know if that's a word, but what the hell.

Give morehansanity your support, huh? Link off to the left.

It's a beautiful spring day where I am. I shrugged all this off and headed to the woods ... crunched through the winter-beaten leaves and listened to the quiet vibration of life lingering just below the surface.

An overheard conversation

"His wife is the ladder-climber, ya know. He's the one who just tags along for the ride. Hee hee. He'll have 30 years in, and nobody will've even noticed."

what? humor??!

We've gotten pretty creative with cost reduction. We've cancelled everybody's cell phones ... turned down lights ... shut off escalators ... switched all the printers to duplex and disabled color ... stopped buying office supplies ... we empty our own trash because they fired the cleaning crews. Piles of trash are stacked up in the hallways in giant bins.


Now people are reporting a significant increase in cockroach sightings. And the guys are complaining that the men's rooms smell because they turned down the water supply that flushes the urinals.



Office Space is alive and well.



Lumbergh: "Since you're down here, it would be really great if you could just sort of take care of the cockroach problem we've been having in here."

Milton: "No, that's not really my job, and I-- I haven't received my paycheck this week--"

Lumbergh: "So, for now, why don't you get yourself a flashlight and a can of pesticide..."

shreds of truth in folklore

So there's a story going around (maybe it's folklore, maybe not) of the HR manager who was asked to write a script to be read to those being laid off. He handed it in to his boss for approval. His boss proceeded to read it back to him, then asked, "Any questions?"

misguided glee

Rumors in the hallway say we won’t have the two-week layoff planned for later this summer. People are nearly tap-dancing with misguided glee. There is no sudden turnaround, folks. What you don’t understand is this probably means something bigger will happen, like more of us will be walking out for good with those overstuffed cardboard boxes.

blogging the blogger and making her my bloggee

Colleague 1 was one of the first to be laid off. The first of my friends, that is, to leave, and that’s when it all started to hit home. She’s writing a blog, too. It’s also linked off to the left.

25,000

Today, the number stands at around 25,000.

25,000 people have walked out the doors. People carrying cardboard boxes packed with family photos and souvenir mugs and a training certificate or two. People walking out with their lunch boxes and steel-toed boots and safety glasses.

Good people. People who did nothing wrong, other than finding themselves in the wrong row on somebody's "layoff" spreadsheet.

Okay, so it has to happen. Nobody's buying our stuff. Everything's dried up. But why so many, why so fast, why does it keep coming and coming like waves of a tsunami?

And when will they get to our names on the spreadsheet?

We stand and we watch them leave, with nothing to say. The void is palpable. The cloud settles like a nuclear winter in the emptying cubicles and parking lots and factories. We turn and go back to work.