Termination Rules the Nation!

Gainfully employed. Earning a steady paycheck. Me. One of these things is not like the others, one of these things doesn’t belong…

That’s right, folks- perhaps you’ve guessed or even heard by now, but I am once again wandering the realm of the unemployed. Thank God- I’m exhausted. I wasn’t fired, because ‘fired’ implies incompetence, and if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s transferring vaguely colored water from one tray to another. If there’s two things I’m good at, they’re transferring vaguely colored water from one tray to another and crocheting tea cozies from hard to work with media, but that’s beyond the scope of this blog.

Apparently, the company I work for – say it with me – isn’t doing very well, and they’ve terminated all temporary employee contracts. I’ve been terminated. Feel free to insert your own joke about not being ‘bahk’ and I’ll meet you at the next paragraph as soon as you’re done talking in that Austrian accent.

You’d think I would have emotions about this. You’d be wrong. I, for some reason, am completely detached from this situation. Like, ‘plot of Contact’ not caring. ‘Carrot Top just incorporated a new prop into his stand-up’ not caring. ‘There’s a Cirque de Soleil marathon on Bravo’ not caring. You get the idea. I’m vaguely pleased that women who missed their callings as party planners for kindergarteners will no longer glare at me. Lack of a commute springs to mind as a plus. Beyond that, though, I’m coming away from my first experience in the real world wit ha distinct feeling of meh.

There are lots of terms that have come to mean a termination of employment. And since I’ve got significantly more time on my hands, I decided to explore a few of them. Come along, won’t you?

The word ‘fired’ comes from the connotation that a worker would be ejected rapidly from his or her position, much like a bullet from the barrel of a gun. I got two weeks notice – not exactly rapid ejection. Not like ejector seats in planes. They should make those for cars. You know, for the passenger seat. So if someone’s all, “Hey, wasn’t that your exit?” or “You really need to update your resume and find another job,” a simple press of a button would get them out of your hair. Also, I bet a sliding roof panel would come as part of the ejector seat package, because they’re either gonna rip right through your roof or slam into it, and either way that’s going to be a mess. Even if I had been fired, I probably wouldn’t be able to say that, because I’m pretty sure Donald Trump has copyrighted that phrase.

The term ‘canned’ was in use long before it meant jail or toilet or butt or whatever the kids are using it for these days. Probably the marijuana. But that meaning originated about ten years after they started selling food in cans, so who knows. Maybe when people were fired they were given a complimentary tin of Spam. I heard Spam stands for Scientifically Processed Animal Matter. But I heard it from a vegetarian, so I don’t think I believe it. Not that vegetarians are liars, I just can’t imagine too many of them spreading the good word of canned meat. Even if they were, I still wouldn’t eat it. I wonder if the folks at Hormel are mad that Spam is a word for emails peddling Viagra and cheap vacation properties. Or maybe they started all of it. All the more reason not to eat Spam, I guess.

I didn’t get a pink slip, either – I got a boss beginning the conversation saying he was nervous because he’d ‘never done this before.’ I knew right then he was either laying me off or propositioning me. Considering the fact that I had been wearing the same hoodie for four days and probably smelled of lab, I quickly deduced that it was the former. Too bad. About the lack of a pink slip, I mean. Woulda looked good framed.

In England, the term is ‘sacked.’ Hard to sound negative when it conjures images of potato sack races. Maybe they don’t have potato sack races in England, though. Or maybe I’m just weird. Anyway this might come from the fact that when you’re sacked, you have to take all your tools home in a sack. I don’t have any tools. I did bring my pens and photos home in a sack. Well, it was a Pier One bag with handles. Sounds more dignified than a sack, somehow. I couldn’t put my bonsai tree in a bag, though. I’ve always wanted a bonsai tree, and now I have one. Check that off the list. It’s very cute. I should get some tiny plastic animals – like monkeys! Why didn’t I think of this sooner? Brilliant! I will found a Bonsai sanctuary for neglected plastic monkeys. Also related, I used to really like Garfield (shut up) and he used to leap onto lasagna and yell, “Banzai!!!” Yeah, I don’t know either. For some reason when I read this, I mentally lumped the ‘i’ with the !!!!s, creating the word ‘banza.’ So I may have jumped off things yelling ‘banza!’ So? What are you looking at? I didn’t do it at work, and it’s not why I was laid off. I don’t think.

Discharged is another term… but that sounds like something you should be telling your doctor about. So lets keep that between the two of you and not have that be a word associated with me at all.

Unemployed. I guess I’ll have to start making regular sacrifices to the gods of employment once again. Maybe the burning of my resume will appease them more now that it’s seasoned with a dash of real-world experience. Or maybe I’ll end up living in a refrigerator box living off of my complimentary tin of Spam. Only time will tell.