Three weeks ago, I arrived at work to discover extensive media coverage detailing the reorganization of the parent media company of the magazine I work for, and that jobs would be eliminated. In the four and a half years I have worked here, I survived three waves of layoffs, usually taking place in December. Since I managed to be working for higher-level executives at each earlier occurrence, I was spared; my job was deemed necessary.

Meltdown in the US

This time however, with the economy in meltdown (falling to pieces here in New York City) and because I am supporting a mid-level manager, it is highly likely that I will lose my job. Other New York-based media companies recently announced that they are folding magazines, cutting budgets and eliminating jobs. Also last Wednesday, the morning we were all celebrating Obama’s win, the mayor of New York City announced that he would be eliminating one thousand government jobs to recover the budget deficit. There seems to be no safe haven for anyone anymore.

Over the past few weeks, I realized I’ve been going through a range of emotions, emotions that can spur me to action, send me seething into a rage, or make me want to crawl into the fetal position and hide. Now, of course, I may survive another wave of layoffs, but being complacent, or even hopeful, doesn’t serve to mobilize me, nor does it comfort me. It occurred to me that I’m grieving for a job I love and will probably lose, and that the seven stages of grief, apply for all losses.

Panic

The first inkling I got that my job might be in danger sent me into a tailspin of worry. How will I pay my mortgage, my garage, my insurance, my utilities? I have no one to depend on; no husband, rich uncle, parents. I will lose my home, I’ll be out on the street, a bag lady. How will I find a job with so many other people out of jobs – I’ll never find another one that pays decently – the competition will be brutal. My fantasies spun out of control, each scenario worse than the last.

Action

The next stage that hit mobilized me. I sat down and went though my checkbook, totaling my monthly expenses. I went on the government website to calculate how much unemployment insurance I could qualify for. I met with my Benefits representative and discussed how much severance I could expect to get, whether I could borrow from my 401K or pension plans, and how much my medical insurance would cost me. I calculated how long my savings would last, canceled my cable TV, and my gym membership. The cutback that hurts the most of course – one of the two women whose job training I sponsor in Iraq is due to graduate at the end of November, and sadly, I wont be able to sponsor another.

Anger

It’s not fair! Why me? Why the magazine I work for? I interviewed extensively with many staff members before I took this position. I knew the magazine was a big success and I had a great chance of never having to look for another job. It’s not fair! I don’t want to start all over again. I’m too old to have to compete with twenty-somethings. It’s not fair!

Surrender

This stage made me question the reasons why I might lose my job. It’s true, I’d been pretty complacent in my position over the last few years. Was there some big change that I’d been hesitant to make in my life? Was I not contributing enough to bring more good into the world? Was I not being a good role model? Since my office is a short walk from St. Patrick’s Cathedral, I spent a few lunchtimes at Mass, comforted by the familiar rituals from my childhood. I decided that I’d let “Thy will be done” be my mantra, surrendering to the bigger plan that my Higher Power might ultimately have for me.

Resourcefulness

This stage caused me to think about alternate sources of income and examine where I could cut corners. I’d long been toying with using my background in the beauty business to offer educational classes to women on how to navigate the cosmetic counter. Maybe it was time to put that plan into practice. I could sell my no-longer-played saxophone. I could sell some books on Amazon. And, if I became really desperate, I’d even consider selling my car, well-used but with pretty low mileage. I could plan my meals more wisely, faithfully turn off the lights in my home when not in use, forego weekly restaurant dinners with friends, and attend half-price movie screenings, pay-what-you-wish museum days, and author readings at bookstores. I updated my resume and started sending it to all likely postings and contacts.

Sadness

Change makes me sad. I know in many cases change can be good, but it still makes me sad. My life path is about to take a big turn, and I am sad about leaving the road I’ve been traveling for a long time now. My friends and family are wonderfully supportive, saying they’re sure that a better opportunity will present itself (how can they be so unanimously sure?), but I still reserve the right to be sad about what I’m leaving behind.

Acceptance

I have no control over what will happen. I have performed this job to the best of my ability, and even if I were to be ingratiatingly sweet and obsequious it will not affect whether my job is eliminated. Working more hours won’t help either. Throwing myself on the mercy of management wont do a bit of good. As one colleague said, “The decision is business, not personal.” So in time, comes the calm of accepting that I have no way of influencing the decision.

So now what happens…i wait in stage eight, Patience.

Recommended and Related

Losing Your Job – Reclaiming Your Soul: Stories of Resilience, Renewal and Hope, by Mary Lynn Pulley