Three Months Shy

Within a year and a half of working for the Turkey, I had saved up enough money to live on for a year. Not lavishly or anything, but I could get by. On Friday Turkey announced he is shutting down the law firm. He has accepted a position as a partner at another firm. Ten minutes after that announcement, he laid off the office manager, and two hours later, was having the locks re-keyed. Within an hour of being told, I was on the phone with a headhunter, and solidly got her on Team Green - she is going to coldcall some of her clients where she thinks I would be a good fit, and see if they can make a position for me. Ten minutes after that (thank goodness for lunch hours) I was talking to a second one - the one who placed me with Nice Partner, Tuna, and Cowboy.

I was out of work three months shy of four years. During that time I had some long-term temp jobs of course. Three months here and two months there. But that whole concept of being a super-star where you temp so they'll beg you to become permanent never worked for me. Job luck is not my type of luck. You want to find a penny on the street? I'm your girl! A job, though? No, sorry.

Turkey's announcement came when I am three months shy of working for him for two years. He assured me that I will have a job through the end of the month, maybe even a week or two past that. He's sorry he can't bring me to the new firm, a firm that has a posting up on their website for a legal secretary (which I applied to three days before Turkey's big news, coincidentally). Turkey claims the firm doesn't like incoming partners to bring their own secretaries, because then neither person integrates well into the firm. You never know if you can believe Turkey.

What I know for sure is that I have lasted longer than any other secretary (the office manager, who has access to these sorts of records, told me). What I know for sure is that I have not been able to get a good night's sleep since hearing the news. What I know for sure is that being out of work as long as I was? It did something bad to me, mentally, emotionally. Something that never quite got fixed. That low-level panic I had all the time? It's back.

The glancing 10 times in six seconds at a price? The rapid mental calculations? The feeling of something substantial yet slight, like a goose, sitting on your chest, making it hard to breathe? The urge to clean out your home so you won't have a hard time packing your shopping wagon when you become homeless? They are all back. Three months shy of two years. Join me, won't you? In saying fuuuuuuuuck.