Pretty pictures

Reproduction of a Degas. Colored pencil on paper.

Jerry. Original drawing. Pastels on paper.

High-contrast self portrait. Original drawing. Pastels on paper.

Susan. Original drawing. Pastels on paper.

Blessed

When you've spent a quarter of your life -- yes, that's 25% -- with a group of people, they tend to become family. It's like a family reunion every day at work. The little brother, the loud cousin, the weird uncle, the whole gang's there. Some days you want to kill each other, but others they're the only things that gets you through the day. So it was with me at USA WEEKEND, and the day I was laid off, I felt like someone had died.

I wasn't sad to leave my job. I'd outgrown it, and I was miserable. But I got home that morning and I kept crying. I know part of that was being hurt at having my job eliminated and the delivery of the news, but that wasn't what kept the tears coming. It was the emails, IM's and text messages I was getting from my family.

The news spread like wildfire, and while I felt like I'd been betrayed by one person I'd considered family, I was worried about the effect my departure would have on others, and I was moved beyond words at the outpouring of support from some unexpected places. I also felt a large hole growing in my life. After spending five days a week with these people, I left within 20 minutes of being laid off, no chance to say goodbye.

Well, last night, I got to rectify that.

I drove over to a restaurant near the office to meet some of my former coworkers after work. I knew it would be good for me, but I had no idea how good. For a couple of hours, we laughed, drank sangria and reminisced. I told them how everything happened and how I was doing. They told me what had transpired in the office after I left. It was closure for all of us, and for me, reassurance that my family hadn't forgotten me and would stay in my life -- to some extent anyway. I felt so full and happy and warm (and no, it wasn't the sangria).

There are so many times I feel alone and isolated. I'm wired a little differently, and not everyone understands me. I scare the hell out of others. (Ha!) But last night, I was connected to people who, with the exception of my husband, have influenced my life the most for the past nine years. I felt loved.

I know it's idealistic, but I think companies would do well to realize how much like family work really is and play to those dynamics. They should certainly take them into consideration in dealing with their employees. People need to say goodbye. Criminal behavior aside, they need to clean out their own desks, send out one last email with their contact info and say goodbye to a place and people that have been integral in their daily life.

Thankful doesn't even begin to describe what I am to the people who came to see me off last night (and those who wanted to come and couldn't). My ship is now sailing on without an anchor dragging behind me, knowing I'll see my family again at the next port. I am blessed.

Cabbage and cole slaw

Being laid off is a shock to the system. Even if it's not a total surprise or if it's really for the best, it's still a shock to the system. It's like thinking, "I am a cabbage," being tossed into a food processor that's set to shred, and having to grasp the concept of being cole slaw.

Not going to work Monday morning made me a bit anxious, but like I do with most things, I made a plan. Step one, apply for unemployment. Step two, enroll in COBRA. Oh, wait, I can't do either until I get packages from the company that's managing my TPP (Transitional Pay Plan) and the Gannett benefits center. So not only did I have no control over my choice to leave my job, I now have no control over picking the pieces back up and restarting my life.

I'm not naive enough to think that caring about a person will ever outweigh caring about profits, but it's still hard for me to wrap my head around the lack of conscience or humanity in the process. Companies have turned terminations into a machine. It's not personal; it's business, and business is about the bottom line. I get it. After nine years at Gannett, I've seen some callous moves by management. It should be criminal the way they've treated some good and loyal people. (I could definitely have it worse.)

It's my warped sense of loyalty and responsibility that have kept me at Gannett all these years. I've been watching more and more go wrong, and the draw of solving a new problem kept me strung along like a drug. My co-workers and I had become a family, and I didn't want to leave them. I put everything I had into my work and my work family. I took on mountains of extra responsibility and fought the good fights for the benefit of the magazine. I made the mistake of thinking any of it would matter in the end.

At the meeting where I was laid off, I listened as the head of my department read the script in front of him. When he'd come to the magazine from another part of Gannett, he faced a neck-breaking learning curve to adapt to our business model. On more than one occasion, I removed his hind end from the fire. I helped him succeed as our leader. We'd been in the trenches together for four and a half years. We'd been through the turnover of more support staff than I'd like to recall. As the words came out of his mouth, what shook me the most was how cold they were, hollow. As he thanked me for my nine years of service and everything I'd done for him personally, I would have rather he just skipped it. It hurt more that he was saying words he should have meant ... and didn't.

Some would say I'm lucky to have gotten any kind of package when leaving, but for everything Gannett has ever given me, I can assure you they got more than they deserved in return. The nice lady from HR went through the highlights, and I'd like to think that when she said, "And you get to keep your benefits until the end of the month," that she didn't realize that was less than a week, only four business days. Four. Days.

That was a Thursday, so first thing Friday morning, I checked all of my prescriptions, and I have a few, to reorder as much as I could while I still had benefits. I took literally the instructions to apply for unemployment benefits and enroll in COBRA immediately. Since I didn't have the necessary paperwork in the packet, I started calling the numbers they gave me to see what I could do to move things along. Surely in the digital age, I could do things online. Something. Nope. I had to wait for the hard copies to be delivered via U.S. Postal Service. Really?! Two things bother me here.

First, with all due respect to the postal service, there are much more efficient, quicker and environmentally-friendlier ways to get forms to people. I already had or would have to set up accounts on the TPP and Gannett benefits websites; why not just let me download the forms or fill them out online? Snail mail, really? It's not like these papers aren't essential for me to get paid and have healthcare for the next few weeks (I hope). For a company so big on being digital, I say #epicfail!

Second, forget that someone worked for you for nine years, just focus on them being a fellow human being. Laying them off at the end of the month, and cutting off their benefits at the end of that month, is unconscionable. I called to find out how to enroll in COBRA, but I was told the benefits center hadn't even gotten my paperwork and would have to process my termination before they could send me the information.

There is no possible way that management didn't know my job was going to be be eliminated at least a few days before they did it. I'd wager it had been at least a week. It was certainly long enough to make sure my email and computer access were removed before I even came out of the meeting where I was terminated (I'm not going to get into how insulting that is.), but they couldn't manage to get my termination processed through the benefits center to get my COBRA paperwork started.

I waited for over a week to get a letter that was dated August 1, but wasn't postmarked until August 3 and I didn't receive until August 6. That's six days worried that if I got sick or hurt how on earth I'd pay for it. The real kicker is that the letter only told me what benefits I'd have available under COBRA and notified me it would take another 2-3 weeks for my enrollment papers to arrive.

I know that COBRA is retroactive to the first day I lost my benefits, but what is someone, an unemployed someone, supposed to do when the doctor or ER asks for my insurance card? How am I supposed to pay them until I can get enrolled, file a claim and be reimbursed? The standard co-pays don't exactly apply. I know, it's not their problem.

What will be their problem are the myriad loose ends I leave and the institutional knowledge that go with me. What will be my boss's problem is living with having cast someone aside coldly who did as much to help them as anyone ever will. Gannett still has a significant revenue problem, and what they saved by laying me off on July 26 vs. August 1 won't even begin to make up the difference.

So I'm cole slaw. I can live with that. It may only be a moral victory, but I'll take what I can get these days.

5 Observations from the Olympics

It's hard not to watch the Olympics, even if NBC has tried repeatedly to ruin as much of it as possible. I don't so much care about the taped delay. I'll watch to see how things play out even if I know the outcome, but I don't like how they've manipulated the story lines and ignored other important moments of the games while pandering to Americans. That's not my point though.

First, I would want them to play Rocky Top instead of the National Anthem if I won gold. (I realize this is sacrilege to many. Deal with it.)

Second, if I'd known about trampoline as a sport, my life would be completely different.

Third, my odds of my ever being an Olympian started dropping drastically when I was eight and outgrew my training bra.

Fourth, I would drown if I ever tried to play water polo.

Finally, I will always be a little girl when watching gymnastics. When I was a kid I took gymnastics and I loved it. I was not however a natural. I got too tall and too big. I could do power elements like tumbling passes on floor and vaults, but uneven bars and beam were my nemeses. A bad fall on beam ruined my back, and no one with my proportions is ever going to do well on bars. I just don't have physics with me on that one. Regardless, learning to flip around the floor and spring over the vault were the closest I'd ever come to flying.

I've watched gymnastics since Mary Lou, and I watched replays and movies of Nadia. I remember vividly Phoebe Mills bouncing wildly out of bounds, and Dominique Dawes spinning like no other. Kim Zmeskal winning again and again. The Mag Seven made me smile, and as annoying as Kerri Strugg was, I'll forever respect her for not giving up and nailing that one-footed landing. Bela smiling and cheering will always bring me joy. This year, Gabby managed to combine the graceful moves of gymnastics past with the power and athleticism it's know for now, all with an electric smile that I guarantee thrilled many more little girls.

No matter how bizarre the opening ceremonies or bad NBC's coverage, the Olympics will always hold magic for me. The pageantry and pride are awe inspiring. I love watching.

And so it goes

My career at USA WEEKEND has come  to an end. After nine years, my position was eliminated.

I started in Newspaper Relations as the assistant marketing specialist. It was a different time in newspapers, at USA WEEKEND and at Gannett in general. As time passed and the industry started changing, it became harder and harder to maintain the status quo. Gannett started merging and consolidating, and USA WEEKEND was no longer immune. Departments were absorbed; layoffs started. I watched as long-time staffers were eliminated, and our CEO retired. We slowly being absorbed into USA Today. In the past year, it started to feel like longevity was a liability. The more of the old guard that was replaced, the more I started feeling like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole.

My bosses were meeting in the conference room and asked me to come in. It wasn't an unusual thing to happen, but as soon as I stood up from my desk, I knew what was happening. For no real reason, the thought just popped in my head. There's no doubt when someone you don't know is also in the room when you arrive.

I'm sure my bosses expected some reaction from me, but instead, I smiled, listened and cooperated -- hell, I was downright friendly to the woman from HR -- as the man I helped adjust to the mountainous learning curve of our business told me that as part of the restructuring of the magazine my position had been eliminated. He tried to tell me he appreciated everything I'd done for him and for all my years of service, but the words were flat and meaningless. I chose to just smile and turn my attention to the nice woman from HR who was going to tell me I had one week of pay per year of service and 5 days of benefits left.

While there were lots of things I might like to have said or asked, I chose instead to keep my head up and just roll with it. I knew I'd have a lot to deal with later, but I also knew that I could handle whatever comes. And I will.

This all happened on a Thursday. I was paid through Friday. The next week, I was going to be out of the office anyway for friends' wedding. We just got back and so tomorrow will really my first day in the trenches of the unemployed. I've already applied for unemployment benefits and talked with two recruiters. My resume is spit-shined and ready to go. The fact is I've been ready to go for a long time. I should have left years ago, but my admittedly warped sense of responsibility and loyalty kept me at a job where I no longer fit far beyond what it should. As crappy as this may be to experience, being laid off is going to ultimately be a good thing.

I've been applying for jobs and interviewing for a while, but nothing had worked out so far. I was applying for jobs online after work when I was tired and often frustrated. My job now is to spend time every day looking for the job I'll love. I have no excuse. In the meantime, I've talked to a couple of organizations about volunteering during the week, and training for my next race starts soon. My life is still quite full, and my hope is it will also have balance.

A few people know this has happened. I haven't kept it from anyone who's asked how work is going. The fact is I have nothing to be ashamed of and I see this as a good thing. I've been so touched at how many people have reached out to me with kind words about having worked with me and offers of help. Regardless of anything else, that means success to me. Here's to new opportunities for even bigger success.