{"id":1344,"date":"2022-02-12T20:33:52","date_gmt":"2022-02-13T01:33:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/perfectanonymous.com\/?p=1344"},"modified":"2022-02-12T20:33:52","modified_gmt":"2022-02-13T01:33:52","slug":"getting-over-mr-wrong-pink-slip-edition","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.perfectanonymous.com\/?p=1344","title":{"rendered":"Getting Over Mr. Wrong: Pink Slip Edition"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

I\u2019ve spent way too much time getting over him. He was always so quick to toss off a studied laugh, grab the reins of any conversation and start throwing ideas around the room. Never mind if those ideas were only loosely tethered to reality, he was going to sell \u2018em to you like an old-time preacher saving souls at a revival. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I grew up with a mom who was determined that I would not marry a guy like this. So I worked for him instead. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Let\u2019s back up here and bless my mom for raising me financially feminist. She drilled it into me that I would not depend on a man. By the time I was in elementary school I could recite the creed – go to college and then support yourself for at least a year, before you even think about marrying anybody. It was fine and well to get married, if I wanted to, but my future would depend on My Career, not My Husband. (She would\u2019ve been cool if I\u2019d married a woman too, cause my mom is cool like that. She just would\u2019ve told me not to marry her until I\u2019d paid the bills solo for awhile.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
I was taught at a young age that the message of this cake is a lie. According to my mom, it should say, All you Need Is Love, a Fulfilling Career and Your Own Bank Account. A message for every tier!<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

We didn\u2019t fall for the Mr. Right or the Ms. Right fantasy in my house. We fell for the Dream Job fantasy. Oh, and we fell hard. \u201cYou\u2019ll be the next Danielle Steele!\u201d my mom would proclaim when I was picked to read my essay aloud in 3rd grade. My dad wasn\u2019t into the romance novelist future, but he played right along with the Power Suit narrative. He\u2019d clip articles about women with high-flying careers and leave them at my place at the table. My job, like a lot of other kids growing up in my generation, was clear – Get Into the Right College and Everything Will Be Perfect! Young Millennials and Gen Zed, I hear you laughing. I swear I wasn\u2019t the only one who drank this Kool Aid. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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My dad\u2019s dream\u2026for me. <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Being life and not a Hallmark movie, my high-powered college experience<\/a> didn\u2019t go as planned. Turns out, our plans were missing some critical steps between the degree and the job I actually wanted. Having been weaned on the well-intended fantasy of Good School Leads Directly to Dream Career, I assumed it was my fault and mentally flagellated myself on the daily. Once I got past the life pit of the mid-20\u2019s, things started to gel. But then in my mid-30\u2019s, first my husband\u2019s career and then mine hit a series of bumps. That\u2019s when I fell into Dick\u2019s clutches. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Okay, I didn\u2019t literally fall into his clutches, and no his name is not really Dick, but wouldn\u2019t it be too perfect if it was and I had? My husband\u2019s career was struggling, I\u2019d had a once-great job take a new-management turn down a rocky road, and Dick offered me a position. I\u2019d met Dick at church. We\u2019d volunteered together on some committees. What could possibly go wrong?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My very first week of work started with a cross-country flight to a conference in Seattle. From the floor-to-ceiling windows of my swanky hotel room, the deep blue waters of Puget Sound framed the city as it rolled out before me. I felt like I\u2019d fallen into a scene from Adulting: The Movie as I cobbled together a business-evening look for a prospective client dinner. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dick charged ahead of the rest of us as we walked to the restaurant, his coiffed hair practically vibrating with excitement as he delivered an impassioned monologue about sales strategies and bold predictions for the future. I don\u2019t know if he even saw the man approaching him, but I did. \u201cExcuse me, sir,\u201d the man began, just before Dick reached him on the sidewalk. \u201cCould you help -\u201c the man\u2019s voice cut off as Dick plowed past him so closely that the man lost his balance and stumbled backward. Without a break in his stride, Dick continued down the sidewalk, still waxing poetic about the year\u2019s growth to come. My new co-worker and I exchanged a pained glance. The man, steady on his feet again, stood with his head down. I tried to slow down the moment – did I have any cash in my wallet? What could I say to the man? Ahead of us, Dick was almost at the crosswalk. I looked back at the man again, then at my co-worker, and the two of us ran after Dick. At dinner, I found a crumpled dollar in my purse and kept scanning the sidewalk for the man on the walk back to the hotel, but of course he was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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My biggest regret of this whole story? That I didn\u2019t do right by the man in Seattle. <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The longer I worked for Dick, the more upset I got. Dick, seemingly oblivious to my frustration, loved me for my work. Sometimes he\u2019d ask my opinion, or tell me about things above my pay grade that were going on. More frequently, he\u2019d interrupt me, sometimes to suggest an idea that the customers and I had thoroughly dissected and decided against. He was a master of snap judgment, and at the moment of snap, Dick always presumed that he was in the right and was always very, very eager to tell me and everyone else why. Every few months, I\u2019d talk to him about these traits, how belittled they made me feel. He\u2019d thank me and back off for a few days before falling right back into his heavy-handed groove of interruptions and mansplaining. Meanwhile, I was finally bringing in enough money that it felt like our family was secure. Financially, this was the most successful I\u2019d ever been, and it wasn\u2019t just me, but my husband and daughter that were dependent on my paycheck. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a few years of gritting my teeth, I started to look for a new job. And then, Dick knocked me off balance. He called me on April 20th and told me my last day of work would be April 30th. There would be no severance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eleven days\u2019 notice and no severance. Eleven days\u2019 notice and no severance. I obsessed over these facts. When Dick and the owner of the company tried to deny us COBRA, I added it to my obsession stew. I had lived by the gospel of hard work and tried so hard to do everything \u201cright\u201d. So how could all this possibly be happening? How could Dick, who considered being a Christian central to his identity, toss me and my family out into the early pandemic economy, when job ads had all but disappeared?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t have an answer. I did have people standing by me, and one of them was a love force named Beth. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was impossible to go anywhere with Beth without running into someone who knew and adored her. \u201cHow have you been?\u201d she\u2019d exclaim, before bringing me into the circle and explaining what environmental cause or mission work or neighborhood project had brought them together.\u00a0 This was a person who literally twinkled when she spoke to you, who regularly did things like haul her family china across town so a community group could have a beautiful Christmas tea.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Beth told me once over sandwiches that she was a disappointment to her family. \u201cNo!\u201d I protested, and promptly went into resume mode. \u201cLook how much you\u2019ve done for the environment with your blog<\/a>! Look at all the work bullshit you\u2019ve come through and always landed on your feet. And you\u2019re so close to your niece and nephew and all the kids in your neighborhood!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before I could scream, \u201cYou do so much for so many people!\u201d Beth held up her hand to stop me. She told me she was happy with her life. But it wasn\u2019t the one that others had envisioned for her. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Beth kept careful track of me in the weeks and months after I was let go, and she\u2019d come after me if I went too long without checking in. One of the last times I spoke with her, Beth told me a story about a conflict in her tennis league. I groaned, ready to empathize with her on a good old fashioned complaint session, but that wasn\u2019t what Beth needed at all. \u201cI started to get annoyed, \u201c she told me, \u201cthen I looked around, saw that the sky was blue and I got to be out there and play. Attitude of gratitude.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If those words had been directed at me as a how-to, I would have found them unempathetic and triggering as all get-out. Coming from Beth, about her own imperfect but joyfully lived life, it felt like a beautiful little pebble of wisdom. That was my friend, always generous and loving enough to show me some truth in a way I could understand it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I wish so much I didn\u2019t have to write this next part. Beth left us way too soon. She died not long after that conversation. A year and a half later, I still haven\u2019t taken her number out of my phone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few weeks ago, someone finally put into words the answer I sought in the wake of my pink slipping. The values of late-stage American capitalism aren\u2019t the values that Jesus lived by\u2026at all. Somehow, hearing that obvious truth helped it click. Dick may have loved the Jesus talk, but it wasn\u2019t his walk. Not at work, at least. Which is how he literally almost knocked over the man in Seattle. It shouldn\u2019t have been surprising when he metaphorically knocked over me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Goodbye Dick, I\u2019m leaving now. Or should I say, you\u2019re leaving, leaving my head that is. I\u2019ve spent more than enough precious time and brain cells on the whole sorry episode. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Don\u2019t get me wrong – now even more so then before, I\u2019ll be pushing back against the agendas of the Dicks of this world. But even more of the time, I\u2019ll be looking for the blue skies and smiling whenever I find them, in gratitude.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

In loving memory of Beth Bond<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I\u2019ve spent way too much time getting over him. He was always so quick to toss off a studied laugh, grab the reins of any conversation and start throwing ideas around the room. Never mind if those ideas were only loosely tethered to reality, he was going to sell \u2018em to you like an old-time […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1368,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[54,51],"tags":[91,68,2,3],"class_list":["post-1344","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-beloved-community","category-uncomfortable-honesty","tag-faith","tag-friends","tag-work","tag-working-mom"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.perfectanonymous.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1344","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.perfectanonymous.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.perfectanonymous.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.perfectanonymous.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.perfectanonymous.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1344"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.perfectanonymous.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1344\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1376,"href":"https:\/\/www.perfectanonymous.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1344\/revisions\/1376"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.perfectanonymous.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1368"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.perfectanonymous.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1344"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.perfectanonymous.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1344"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.perfectanonymous.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1344"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}