The support I've gotten since my job at Brown College ended unceremoniously has been very touching. To wit, a text message from an unidentified former employee:
'I just heard the news.
Fuck them, you know you are better!
You got it, man! Fuck em!'
Very well put. Dramatic, and to the point. Another colleague, with whom I met last week, told me they all feel like 'they're waiving to me from the docks, wishing they were sailing away with me.' In other words, they're envious that I've managed to move on, away from the stresses of the corporate environment.
I know that people are concerned of my well-being, and I understand and appreciate the well-wishers, and add that there's nothing wrong with my situation. If I were a rent-check away from poverty, with nothing promising on my radar, I might be panicked, but I was fully prepared for being laid-off.
For three-years, I saw more people come and go, than I did stay and be successful in collegiate admissions. It's the nature of the position, and I was informed as such when I was hired, by the ex-college president, who told me that he didn't expect me, or anybody, to last more than two years. In preparation, I paid off my car and saved money like I never had before, giving myself enough breathing room to feel comfortable. I got a phone call from another friend, saying that he 'misses my presence in the office, and that I am college professor material.' He's right: I do own an impressive collection of corduroy blazers and, when my hair grows-out, look like I've been up all night doing research, even though I've usually been just updating my Netflix Queue.
I miss all my co-workers, and am grateful for their ongoing support and encouragement. In the spirit of 2011, I wish them all the very best, even as my ship drifts over the horizon, and out of sight.
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