Wednesday morning, September 21, 2016, I walked into work at the newspaper. Said hi to the graphic designer and hi to the editor. The editor’s walled-in office is right next to my desk, with a window right next to me so he can look into the workroom. Before I sat down at my desk the editor called to me through the window asking if I could see him in his office. I wasn’t worried until I saw him close the window, then shut the door after I entered the office.
“Take a seat” he said.
I reluctantly sat down in his chair, not knowing what was coming. Or maybe deep down I knew what he was about to say, but it just didn’t register at the time.
“So today I’m letting you go.”
Oh, so like I get the day off today? You’re letting me go early? I thought. That wasn’t the case.
I’m not sure exactly what he said after that, I could only pick up bits and pieces, but I got the gist. He said something like “It’s not anything you did. You’re a hard worker and a great writer, you’re just not a good fit for this job…”
I tried to ask again if it was something I did, or something I could have done better, but at that point I was not coherent enough to think or form sentences well. I was just trying not to cry in front of him as I handed over my key and press pass.
I grabbed a newspaper on my way out, possibly the last newspaper there to have my name in it, then the editor walked me out.
I shook his hand before we parted ways, because that seemed like something I should do. I thanked him for letting me work there for what little time I was there, then he closed the door, leaving me standing alone outside. I did my best to hold back my tears until I got to the car, and I mostly made it. I waited in the car for a while, waited until I felt able to drive, then headed over to church where my dad was working.
“Hi Mike, everything okay?”
I shook my head no.
“What happened?”
The secretary outside the office might have possibly been within earshot so I answered with a prompt and quiet “I got fired.”
My dad closed the door to his office, then the tears started flowing again.
“What happened? Why did they fire you?”
I tried to answer, but I was unable to form words.
He talked to me for a bit, prayed with me, then got back to work while I sat in silence on the couch.
I then had to go home and tell my sister, then my other sister, then my uncle, then my mom, then my brother. Each time I told them, I tried to say something different, but no matter how it came out, I didn’t like it; I still don’t like it.
I don’t have an answer. I wish I did. I wish I could have gotten more information that morning, but I was too emotionally compromised.
What does “not a good fit” mean? Did they not like me, or my personality? They clearly didn’t want me there anymore for whatever reason.
Should I have asked for a second chance? Should I still ask for that? They shouldn’t fault me for doing things incorrectly; they never really gave me a complete set of instructions in the first place anyway. They just sort-of put me out there and said “good luck.”
I do remember now the editor saying something like “you did the best you could have done at that job.” Did I really? How could I have improved? I like to think I take direction very well, and I know I could have done better if you told me what to work on.
That key for the office I had just put on that keyring. I had just updated my Facebook info to list where I now work. I had just finished reorganizing my desk and closet to make room for all the newspapers I was going to work on. I was just getting settled into a job that I greatly enjoyed, and now I’m back to the beginning, after only a month and 10 days.
So, I have to get a job again now; and I only have about a month and a half to find one before I have to pay another school loan.
I wrote the above paragraphs a couple days after I was fired, but didn’t bring myself to post it until now. I still haven’t found a new job yet, but I haven’t really even started looking yet. I don’t mean to seem lazy, it’s just that I’m feeling beat down, and I’m not sure how I’m going to get back up again. It took so long for me to get this job, and now I’m back to square one.
If I can, I’d like to get a job nearby again, that way I can still live at home and not have to worry about paying for an apartment.
But yeah, I’m just feeling kind of discouraged right now.
In other news, I’ve decided to try NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) this year. Every year, writers are encouraged to write 50,000 words during the month of November, mainly just for fun. I don’t have a title or anything yet, just some ideas. But I can’t start the official writing process until November 1st.
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