by Amy Platon
As published by the Orlando Sentinel 3/8/09
It’s the impending swing of the hatchet that has workers in the largest company in Orlando ducking for safety. If your family is like ours, then you’re sweating pixie dust right about now.
And to hear “you’re not alone,” isn’t all that helpful is it? It’s like there is a corkscrew angled into your finances on a slow twist.
My husband and I have had a plan for a while now. But so far we haven’t had to implement it. We’re flying through Tums though.
Recently, we’ve been talking about it a lot - the what-if factor. And then he brought it up again. “What would we do?”
“You mean if you came home on a Monday with nowhere to be on Tuesday?”
And even though, that thought had me feeling like a princess all dressed up, trying to plug the leak with a cork that is too swollen to fit.
“Well,” I said, “We would open a bottle of wine.”
‘Cause crying is not in the plan, and really, for that moment nothing changes. Flash flood? Yes, but only if we let it happen that way. The reality: we have to break it down by minutes. He’ll get one more paycheck at least, if not a package, and we would enjoy not having to be up in the morning. Cause we don’t do that enough. We’d get the kids off to school, and we’d get to work on finding him another job.
I laugh at the irony, jobs in general: we hated them for one reason or another last year. But this year, we’re grateful for them. Pay reduction, ok. Crazy boss, fine. Long drive, it’s cool. It’s the same logic we use when we invest into a Money Market, sure were only making eight dollars a month but it beats losing $20,000 a year in stocks.
At my restaurant, I have noticed that employees are working a little bit better too. They’re nicer even. Dare I say? It’s a pleasure to be there.
People have shed entitlement like a down jacket in spring. When I for one say "thank you" to my guests at the bar, I mean it. I certainly don’t feel like it’s my right to work. Even though the state tells me it is.
But for my husband and me, if he were to loose his job, our life would not end. We would hang on to that cork and float until we hit dry land. We would have to look at it like an opportunity, a chance for change. It’s an excuse to do that thing we were always too afraid to start when things were comfortable.
And how would we toast? “Here’s to moving on!” Ting.
Confessions of a Housewife