As Yoda might say: Much bitterness I feel today.
Are there stages to recovery from termination? The first is relief, the
second is joy, the third is insanity as you realize you’re trapped in
the house with a wife and four kids who eat constantly, and finally
comes anger over the way you were screwed out of your job. Maybe. Maybe
I’m just upset because the flurry of resumes and queries I sent out
over the weekend and Monday haven’t netted much response yet. I know
it’s too early to be worried. I’m still getting paid. But, you know …
eventually I won’t be getting paid to sit home.
Today I sent a rude e-mail to one of my former co-workers (another of
the Cotton-picked replacement people) telling her I wanted to stop the
payroll deductions going to that university. I don’t want any of my
severance money going to support that hole. I also sent a snippy e-mail
to the assistant director of HR asking when and how I’ll get my 150
hours of unused vacation pay. I’m sure I lose the 105 hours of sick
leave I had built up. I wish I’d donated all those to Robert.
In better news, I got quite a bit of work done on Bold Bounty
today. I revised several chapters and found I’d actually added almost
1,000 words. I have to admit, I do kinda like this story. It’s
fast-paced and the characters are sort of fun. And, I wrote it so long
ago that it’s almost like reading and editing somebody else’s book. I
don’t remember a lot of the details, but when I find them I’ll recall
doing that research or how this event triggers something else later in
There’s actually a job opening I know about that is just what I want.
It’s at a small four-year state university in Alva. The job is
instructor or assistant professor of journalism with oversight of the
campus newspaper. Minimum requirement is a BA in journalism with
preference given to people with a master’s or Ph.D. and real newspaper
experience. But, did I mention it’s in Alva? That’s in NW Oklahoma, not
terribly far from my hometown of Enid. It’s a tiny town, though a nice
school, from what I know. I doubt they’d help with relocation … and
Kim really doesn’t want to go there.
Time to feed the kids. Again. Eww. And change a diaper.