14th
-Nick Paumgarten from “The Death of Kings” in this week’s New Yorker.
I listened to the grim reports on NPR and I saw friends lose their jobs, but I felt safe. I work for a tanking company sure, but we’re a small but essential department in an international monster.
Then, on Wednesday, I lost half of my staff. I feel liked I failed them, somehow. I could have been more of an advocate for them, for us. When one of my guys wanted to stay the rest of the day after it happened, because he didn’t know what else to do, I just wanted to cry.
I’ve had four meetings about restructuring in the past two days, and nothing gets close to feeling better. We lose these people, and we will move on the best we can and yes, it’s sad, but what can you do in this economy. And everyone says it’s sad and it’s messed up. But we’re here. For now.
When the darkness and loneliness and helplessness set in after the TV turns off, after you close Thomas Wolfe, that’s when it hits. No one is safe and there’s nothing you can do to save anyone.