Schnappen der Spriggenwerk, poppencorken mit spritzensparken

Poor Hubby.

You may recall that he was laid off on January 31st. His entire group was dumped that day–80 people.

I mean, I know that maybe the Universe wanted him to be humbled a bit. It really got his attention when he was laid off. He simply doesn’t know how to not work . . . having had a job since he was 15 and worked at Pizza Inn part-time, moving up to Penneys catalog and then credit clerk, and then while he was in college to computer operator, and then upon graduation becoming a software engineer, ending up as a staff engineer and software guru. Unlike me, he is really good at working for The Man and being a team player.

There’s one particular job on the company’s internal hiring list thingie that reads as if it were written for him. From the day he left the company, his previous supervisor has been telling him to apply for this one and that he and X would recommend him. His paperwork was processed at last on Friday, and he got e-mail Monday telling him that the big boss wanted to have a phone interview with him. This made him very happy. He stopped growling and snarling at me and began pacing around saying that he could do the job and that it was just like the job he had before he joined the Folly. (The project that was just cancelled, I mean.)

This morning the director called him and did the phone interview. It went very well. He knew the answers and they spoke of people they both knew. She talked about figuring out how to do the callback/recall paperwork in order to get employees back. He hung up feeling that he was definitely going to get an offer.

So . . . what does he do but go onto the e-mail list that he and a few trusted co-workers had set up to discuss their contacts and jobs. He posted a jovial message reading, “The call went well. Maybe I’ll be back working with y’all in a couple of weeks.”

Maybe this could be interpreted as being cocky or arrogant. He didn’t mean it that way. Someone who knew him would understand that it was just a “whoopee” sort of deal.

But! The guy, X, who had said he’d recommend him (this guy is still employed and works in the group in question) wrote back, “Not so fast. You should know that L is also a final candidate for this position.” L is another of the layoff casualties, but he’s not as experienced as Hubby. Also, not as old. (hmm)

Well . . . that message was a slapdown. Was that really necessary? Or perhaps it was just a nice little heads-up. Whichever it was, I thought it was very passive-aggressive or whatever.

[Guilt: It’s my fault! It’s all because I listened to the Bad Luck song* in the car this morning! I knew better than to listen to that song! The last time I heard that song, I fell and shattered my kneecap. That song screwed up his chances this time! *sigh* Or maybe the dude X is just a back-stabber. Or maybe he didn’t realize how that would come across.]

I think I would have written in reply, “Good luck!” And that’s all I would’ve said. But that’s just me.

Anyway. Hubs read that and was crushed.

The result was that Hubby spent around two hours walking around the house talking about how L was probably going to get the position because of this and that, and he could see why, and all this kind of rot. But you could see just how disappointed and hurt he was. He doesn’t ask for much . . . he has had his heart set on this job, and he can’t think of anything else but being unemployed. I don’t know why the Universe couldn’t have just let him think whatever. Now he’s back to being horribly depressed and saying sad things and treating us ankendosh. He says he can’t stand to go on a little road trip or anything at all and couldn’t enjoy it. Can’t even enjoy going over to the Arboretum or the nature preserve for a walk. It’s all the fault of this bigmouth that shot off his mouth to take somebody down a notch . . . kick somebody who was already down.

The bigmouth X must be zapped.

I am crushing his head.

Don’t worry–I’m also crushing L.’s head. And zapping his guideas rod**. And cursing him so he never gets his blah blahed again***. My voodoo is at work. Justice will prevail.


Crud. I suppose it isn’t L’s fault. (But I’m still crushing his head.) It’s all a crapshoot. If they don’t pick Hubby, it’ll be their loss. He knows the product line and he can do the job. They may still choose him. But now that he thinks X would prefer to see L get the job, he’s all depressed. He’s applying elsewhere, but his heart isn’t in it.

I’m accustomed to being rejected. But Hubs isn’t. Apparently he’s got a lot of his identity tied up in his job and his ability to support the family and so forth. And this entire sequence of events may be designed by destiny to knock that out of him and change his direction.

However, it’s tough to see him suffer. And Mama suffers because she’s a child of the Depression who went through being poor and is completely freaked about being poor again. I am the only one with any faith here. Dum-dum me, always trusting that Something Good is about to happen.

Surely something will. That’s not the only job in the world! But I still hate to see him so disappointed.


* The R. E. M. cover of John Lennon’s “Dream #9” off the CD done for the Darfur relief charity. It’s a really good cover. But every time I hear it, something bad seems to happen right after. That’s not the only Bad Luck song, but it’s probably one of the worst. I really like the song, but hey, how many times do you have to touch the hot stove??

** “Guideas rod” comes from an old family story. One of my mother’s uncles back in the day when cars were new got a Model A Ford. Everyone was duly impressed when he drove it up their gravel road and showed off his new Horseless Carriage. But about halfway down the road something went wrong. He came back trudging along crying and carrying his steering wheel and the shaft it was connected to. “What happened?” the family cried. He looked up miserably and held out the parts. “My guideas rod broke,” he shouted. (Not knowing what to call the car parts.) So whenever something goes wrong with the car . . . you know the drill.

*** Refers to the Lenny Bruce “blah-blah-blah” routine. I first heard it on the “Lenny” soundtrack album made from the Dustin Hoffman film. (It’s at 01:18:57 in the film.) You can probably guess what it is a euphemism for.


Author: shalanna

Shalanna: rhymes with "Madonna" and "I wanna," and is not a soundalike with "Hosanna" or "Sha-Na-Na." Aging hippie with long hair, husband, elderly mother, and yappy Pomeranian. I've been writing since I could hold a crayon. I started with fiction, which Mama said was "lying." “Don’t tell stories,” she would admonish, in Southern vernacular. “That's all in your imagination!” When grownups said this, they were not approving. So, shamed, I stopped telling stories for a few years--rather, I stopped letting anyone read them. I'm married to a fellow computer nerd who doesn't really like hearing about writing, but who reads sf/fantasy and understands the creative drive. I'm actually a nonconformist/hippie still wearing bluejeans and drop earrings and the Alice-in-Wonderland hair with headbands and sandals. Favorite flavor is chocolate/orange, favorite color is either Dreamsicle orange (cantaloupe) or bubble-gum pink, favorite musical is either Bye Bye Birdie, Rocky Horror, or The Producers . . . wait, I also love The Music Man. Is this getting way too specific and irrelevant yet? Obvious why I don't sell a ton of flash fiction, isn't it? To define oneself, I always say, it is good to make a list. How about a booklist? Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird Frank and Ernestine Gilbreth, Cheaper by the Dozen C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (all the Narnia books) J.R.R.Tolkien,The Hobbit/LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy Gail Godwin, The Odd Woman F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (before dismissing it, actually read it) George Orwell, 1984 Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle Donna Tartt, The Secret History Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn James Allen, As A Man Thinketh Mark Winegardner, Elvis Presley Boulevard James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum Winnie-the-Pooh/House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie The KJV and NIV Bible (each translation has its glories)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s