Firing Squad

Some of you may remember a blog post I wrote just a few weeks back. It was called the Sound of Music. Real cute how I tied that movie title and the life/job change I was making together. (Here she is. For reference:

Well, I got canned today. 

I walked in to work this morning, 9:00am on the dot, and found my boss behind the desk. “How are you!?” I asked. “Fine,” she replied, but her face was red and lips pursed tight. “You don’t seem fine,” I said. And then…


Way back in college, a girl I met said the word ‘incredulous’ to me. I found it enticing, though unnecessarily large. And we can string together other words that get its point across just fine. Maybe I had just never stood close enough to its meaning to need the word. Until today.

On Thursday night, the last night I worked with the boss, she gave me a big bag of fresh kale from her garden. We stayed late, talking about a situation with a client. We joked with each other, laughed. When I walked off into the night, I threw her a hearty goodbye and a ‘see you Monday.’ To say I was blindsided is a whopping understatement.


I did a re-count on the number of jobs I have held, this afternoon, knee deep in a puddle of tears. I counted 37. Hah! My current age. One job for as many years as I’ve been on this earth. Number I have been fired from: Maybe one. (The details are really hazy. It was a shoe store behind Maverick Family Steak House ((where I also worked)) — and I don’t know if I quit and was terrified of that, or if they actually asked me to leave. Regardless — MAYBE ONE.)


Self-esteem is a patchwork quilt, coming together with frayed seams. I’ve always had a badass complex, trying to beat people at board games and mind games — always trying to prove my worth.

When Melanie dismissed me this morning, before I’d even gotten my whole body through the door, the message I received was that I was without worth. An ant, that a toddler squishes underneath his shoe without even considering.

Why does the toddler kill the ant?               The toddler doesn’t even know.


Last night, I sat across from Nic, and asked him if he wanted me to quit my job. He’d been googling ‘How to successfully run in the early morning’ for an hour and wasn’t feeling like he’d hit gold yet. (He’d had to switch his weekday run times, since he is with Ollie at night and stroller-jogging is not in his wheelhouse.) Funny thing is, I was serious when I asked him. His running has taken a real hit since I started there. And while his weekday running is by no means a do-or-die, it has been a joy and benefit to his life.

I didn’t expect him to say ‘yes.’ But less than twelve hours after posing the question, Nic got a passport to night jogs.

Maybe I needed to be momentarily free. Maybe this was about Melanie; and not about me. Maybe I needed to fill out the grad school application I’ve been putting off now for months. (Just did. BOOM.)

Maybe I won’t know for a little bit, the reason for this. And that’s just what it is.


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