I Got Fired.

Yeah, I'm now Middle Class, Middle Aged Unemployed White Guy.

I've been told there's a "mourning period" when one loses a job. I guess it's true - smarter folks than I came to that conclusion - but for me, it was like when someone dies after a long, painful illness; a blessing and a relief. They took a fun place to work and slowly strangled the fun out. (Along with slowly whittling away at the benefits). It went from a place I cared about to a place I struggled to forget about when I came home. Any misgivings I still might have had disappeared when a former co-worker told me they just put surveillance cameras everywhere. All they need now is a sign over the door that says "Arbeit Macht Frei".

Still, after 25 1/2 years, that much of a change has been a bit disorienting, to say the least. Like when you lost a tooth as a kid, it's not painful, but the hole where it used to be is noticeable and disconcerting. You never really noticed it when it was there, but once it's gone.....

When I first got let go, I was like, "Hell yeah!" I made myself a laundry list of things I was going to do; both things I wanted to do -like ride my damned bike- and things that have been hanging over my head, undone, like a List of Damocles. I started whittling away at my list. "I'm going to run! I'm going to ride! I'm going to finish the goddamn siding, soffits and fascia! I'm going to walk the dog every morning! I'm going to do some trail work at camp!"

Slowly, though, I realized I was sitting on my ass in front of the iPad longer and longer, every morning. There was no sense of urgency. All those things would be there mañana. It didn't matter if I got them done, they'd still be there if I didn't and I had nothing but time. I had no sense of purpose, no goals, no real future. Every day was going to be the same as the last. That's dangerous territory. I began to understand those people who retire, then drop dead, six months later. The lack of social interaction began to take a toll, too. I'm not exactly Mr. Social Butterfly, but day after day of being by myself began to get to me. Don't get me wrong, Gus has been my buddy the whole time, and if I didn't at least have him to talk to, I'd have come unhinged a while ago, but I've noticed even interacting with store clerks can perk up my mood. Okay, so I'll admit it, I need at least a modicum of social intercourse - I can't quite go full hermit.

I'm not sure what the catalyst was, but I've started to adjust. I could get used to this "not working" thing. I'm sort of ready to go back to work, but when retirement comes, I'll be ready for it, thanks to this "rehearsal".

I've gotten a whole lot of things done around the house, just PR'ed a 10K, lost 11 lbs, stopped drinking soda, made a batch of beer, changed my diet for the better and even- as you may have noticed- started writing again.

Since the wheels of bureaucracy apparently turn very slowly in NJ, I get an extended vacation, for which I am grateful. I also realized I needed this time to reboot my attitude - it's not fair to my future employer to hold them accountable for sins visited upon me by my old employer. I really shouldn't go in there resenting, hating and not trusting them, which was the norm, previously. It's time to get my enthusiasm and my work ethic out of storage. It's time to put my animosity and apathy away. (Hopefully for good). This part may be the biggest challenge of them all.

Why do we....

.....buy a Corvette - arguably an ostentatious, "look at me" vehicle - customize, individualize and personalize it...then join a Corvette club?

I'm not really singling out Corvette owners, but they were the inspiration for this post. (You'll notice I use the pronoun "we" throughout this). I saw what was most likely some sort of a club event in Watkins Glen, recently. There were a number of Corvettes driving by and each was different, yet the same.  Like wild animals living their solitary existences, they had all come from their respective garages to converge at the watering hole, only to disperse again.

This made me reflect on the question of why we humans do things to set ourselves apart - cars, clothes, hairstyles, tattoos, lifestyles or whatever - and then seek others to feel "included". We very much value individualism, yet at the same time, we have a need to "belong". In some respects the two would seem mutually exclusive. We want to be individuals, yet we want to be part of a tribe.

Why is that?

I don't have any ready answers, but I'm sure some dude with a "PhD" and a bunch of alphabet soup after his name has already sorted this out in a paper somewhere. But hey, I'm only a Standup Philosopher, what do I know?