Redundant Days

Since I've been laid off (or "made redundant," another favorite euphemism of corporate-speak) in a stealth manner, my response is equally quiet: I show up as a I please, without asking for approval or giving notice. I go there to look for jobs, to take care of paperwork, to talk to my one real and one work friend. One rule that I have: when the weather is too beautiful (as was the case last Friday) or too horrible (today) I just don't go in.

Instead, I spend more time with Eli, trying to regain my formerly held position in his life or at least solidify my second position (after David, who has clearly become Eli's number one), because there were moments when I felt like I could be slipping down to number three after D and Cindy, the nanny I am liking more every day. (A month or so ago, I had to spend ten minutes consoling Eli, who was sobbing uncontrollably after Cindy left.). I also want to make sure he understands and eventually speaks Hungarian. He seems to understand when I talk to him and ask him foor point to things, but English beats Hungarian when it comes to saying words for now. Of course, "go" is easier than "menjunk", "shoe" is easier than "cipo" and "bottle" is easier than "cumisuveg" and then there are all those Spanish words in the mix (courtesy of Cindy) that he may or may not be saying when he is out all day with the Latino crowd...Happily, his favorite word ("Hoo-hoo," to describe the ugly plastic owl we keep on the balcony to scare the pigeons away and that has become a sort of pet substitute for our boy) is identical in all three languages.

The End of a World

It appears that I will be fired. Not immediately perhaps, but soon. The office is quiet, business is bad; my boss, R, told me that he read in the Wall Street Journal that the end of the world is nigh (the end of his world, I told him). He is trying to get out, go over to another law firm, but today he seemed a little frazzled and unsure about his prospects. Our conversation went something like this:

R: "I was told to tell you that if this secondment [a temporary outpost to his client UBS, a bank, which just today announced that it had to write down a lot more money because of the market crisis] doesn't work out, then you will have to leave by the end of June."

Me (showing (and feeling) no emotion): "That's good to know."

R (looking guilty and apologetic): "You know, I am trying. For me, if this doesn't work out for me, then I will have to sell the house in Long Island and I don't know, might have to tap into my 401k [retirement fund] and other things. It's bad."

Me: "You can't do that! I just read in Time Out that you should never, ever cash out your retirements savings to pay off debt. For me, I just don't want to be without health insurance. I need a job because of that, at least until Hillary or Barack Obama gets us some universal health coverage, which means we are in for a long wait." I attempted to laugh a little.

R: "I am trying, you can see I'm trying to do my best, but it's so fucked up, I can't deal with it all. I will see if I can do something... [then some not uncharacteristic incomprehensible mumbling]...I'll pay your heath insurance out of pocket if it comes to that..."

I felt for the man. He really likes to think of himself as a good person and he needs us, his associates, to see him that way. He is a nice guy. I am truly not upset abut losing a job that I hate; under different circumstances I would look at it as an opportunity. As it is, the insurance is a huge problem, as is the need to keep up our (not particularly excessive) lifestyle.

This all is not a tragedy tough. Having just watched a documentary on PBS, filmed mostly by soldiers on the ground in Iraq, brought home the futility and utter pointlessness of the war over there. Seeing it through the eyes of those guys puts things into perspective. They have no idea what the goal is, they just spend their days expecting the end of their worlds at any given moment. In the most literal sense.