Rejected. Laid off, terminated, sacked.
Just before Christmastime, I wander around the building seeing the parties taking place,
The odd person providing telephone support to customers and sales situations needing attention,
While everyone else goes on their way, celebrating their situation at a deserving time of year.
Climbing the stairs, no one else seems to know.
This will be my last day.
The guy who delivered the news, didn’t even to seem to be my boss,
But rather someone who was given the task to add “dismissals” to his resume. I even considered him a friend of sorts.
The feeling I have now is new to me.
Not just worthlessness, but like I have not understood the world around me.
Have I not make enough difference to stay here, in this less than perfect organization?
Am I really of so little value to be the only one terminated before Christmas Day?
No one else knows. So here is my chance.
If they don’t know, I now have to decide.
Am I vulnerable enough for the truth, to explain my worthlessness to others,
Or the plight that is me now. Suddenly, without means, and of an age when I am considered less useful.
Or shall I head off into the night,
And bury this shame in some story of my resignation,
Which will be believed only by my ego,
And those kind enough to understand the fantasy which is my life.
Time for vulnerable humility. Twins missing from this prior life.