Captain’s Log # 57 – Didn’t get the job
Some of you know everything; most of you know little about
me losing my job. I’ll try to be brief.
We all knew it was a possibility that I’ve been contemplating
for months, still, it was a surprise. At the end of Tuesday, August 25, 15-minutes
before quitting time, my supervisor shows up at my cubby and says, ‘so-and-so
in HR wants to see you.’ He had the expression of a little boy caught with his hand
in the cookie jar “not me, I wouldn’t steal a cookie.” I was presented with a 1-inch thick stack of
paper that was my rejection-of-employment-at-the-end-of-probation-report with
37 exhibits! I was stunned, which I’m sure he enjoyed. The HR woman said I
could read it right now. At 5 minutes to 4pm? I don’t think so. We walked back
to my cubby; everyone had left as per usual. I insisted that I show him the
stacks of the project I was in the middle of, “It can wait until tomorrow.” “No,
I’ll show you now.” I showed him. He left. I began to pack up my personal stuff
and thought what it would be like showing up ‘tomorrow’ – icky poo. So, I
packed up everything and left. It felt good.
I didn’t return but used up days from my accumulated
vacation time (thank you State of California.) At first, I wasn’t going to read
the report or respond to it but a few days later I looked at it and resolved to
write a rebuttal. Four days and 6 ½-pages later it was done. The bizarre thing
was most of the email ‘exhibits’ that he used as reasons to dismiss me revealed
the department-wide deception practiced against the vets: not to explain that
when they die the State will close their checking account and ‘recover’ their
unpaid medical costs (that the State has been paying for them) and that any
money recovered would go into the Morale, Welfare and Recreation (MWR) fund,
that pays for all the fun stuff for the vets. What’s wrong with telling people
that? Clearly, there is a conflict of interest - the Finance Office manages the
MWR account. Not my problem. Say, I’m proud of my letter, let me know if you’d
like a copy.
On my ‘last’ day I had to return my keys and badge. No one
was in our office except my ‘indirect’ supervisor, who I like very much. I met
him at HR and gave him my stuff, as we were walking back to my cubby, I had to
fill out a time sheet, I told him “I’m sorry it turned out like this, I have enjoyed
working with you.” I had brought some cucumbers to share and let him know. He
appreciated that, then gave me a bottle of French Rosé as a parting gift. He
then walked with me to the administration office where I turned in my rebuttal
letter to the assistant administrator, whom I had met with to dispute my 2nd
probation report and had told her, “look, if this doesn’t work out with Mr.
Bunch I’d like to work elsewhere.” She was receptive to the idea. I met with
her briefly, told her it was my last day. She was surprised. I said I was applying
for other positions. I wish I remember exactly what she said but it was very
positive. I drove home, ‘walking on sunshine,’ if you know that song.
I haven’t heard anything from anybody about anything,
except, I did learn that the job I had recently interviewed for (the office tech
in the Chapel) had been filled by HR and not selected by the interviewing team.
(I’d love to know the story behind that.) I told the man I interviewed with
that if that person doesn’t work out, please call me.
Meanwhile, I’ve made Pinot Noir jelly, nectarine, and peach
jams and two batches of Parisienne cornichon pickles (this is redundant, ‘cornichon’
is pickle in French) which are delicious! The secret ingredient is clove 😉
Plus, I’ve found a Pisolithus tinctorius in the backyard!
The common name is Dead Man’s Foot which gives one the opportunity to contemplate one’s mortality, and the mortality of our ancestors. It makes a great dye yielding a variety of chocolate browns. I’ve got to ramp up my yarn production!
Otherwise, I am exploring “If you only ____ every day for 2 weeks, it will change your life!” I have been practicing meditation, again.
Today I got out my zafu (pillow),
mat and the twisty-dingy-timer I used to use. I set out my equipment, set the
timer for 20 minutes (that's a little ambitious for the first time, don't you
think? Oh no, what the heck, I can do it.)
I sat and the usual stuff happened,
thoughts come in, you gently bring your attention back to the meditation. This
went on, and on, and on. My legs cramped, I straightened them. It got so I
could feel my heart beating in my chest! This great, big muscle-thingy under my
ribs: boom-boom, boom-boom! It was kinda' scary, or at least alarming. (Ok, let
that thought go.)
Finally, I got bored, I'm ok if
it's only been 10 minutes! I put away my zafu and mat and reached for the timer
under its pillow. It hadn't moved.
“If you only walk 30-minutes, 5-days a week, it will change
your life!” Yeah, my body told me, “if you take me out today without stretching,
I will make you walk in pain every single day of your life.” Okay, okay, I
stretched.
I seem to be gullible to that “if you only…” sales pitch. Why
didn’t somebody say, “if you only got a job with the State when you are 35
years old, you can retire in 30 years and never have to work again.” Actually,
my stepmother said something like that, I was appalled! “I’m too much of a free
spirit to do that!” Yes, it certainly would have changed my life, for example,
I probably wouldn’t have taken up all of my many fun and interesting hobbies.
People who work for the State don’t have time for hobbies, but then, they have
money…
Oh yeah, I am continuing to look for work, that’s something
I have a lot of experience with. 😉 I am applying the philosophy: One door
closes, another opens.
Lastly, the fires. I’m glad they’re not close by. It’s been
smokey but we experienced worse in 2017 when the fire stopped a mile from our
house. The temperature has plummeted, a couple of days ago it was 110, today it’s
60. I’m hoping we’re done with the hot weather - and fire season - and we can
quietly, and foggily, coast to the rainy season. Maybe it will start early this
year, it usually begins anywhere from Halloween to Thanksgiving. We can hope.
Think rain, light rain.
The refrigerator says, “Oh, it’s you again.” Time for lunch!
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