Be Careful What You Wish For

 

February 12, 2009, was the last time I read a print newspaper. It was a Thursday, payday, and my last day, after ten years, although I didn't know that at the time. Due to the bubble burst, (and I suspect my political affiliation) I was "laid off."

It's strange what I associate with that day. Along with never buying another print newspaper because I no longer had to get up at 5 am, or drive an hour each way to work, or to stop for gas, coffee and the paper. A ten year daily routine was terminated in a two minute meeting.

It was also the day I nearly got plowed by a Mac truck. 

But before the truck, and after I had read my newspaper, I was called into my manager's office. He said he was sorry, but... His face was red as he looked down at his desk. He said he'd call me as soon as things got better.

I liked my boss. He was the owner's stepson, and younger than everyone in the company, but he pitched in and got his hands dirty when a Davenport broke down or a shipment came in. He fought for overtime and pay raises for us. He was a bit of a rebel, with arm tattoos and a nose ring, yet, he got along with everyone. He was the buffer between our blowhard, arrogant owner, who had zero enlightenment on how to treat employees.

It was only when our young manager started discussing politics I bristled. 

 I worked in a small manufacturing facility which made mostly small car parts for General Motors. I examined parts for anamolies or flaws in an office shared with two other quality control associates. The back of the building contained the CNC machines and the men who ran them. 

 With the exception of the receptionist, all others were the future maga wearing red hatters. I never got into lengthy political debates with any of them, especially my boss, but at times I'd voice my opinion. There was only one machinist, let's call him Lumpy, who was outright hostile towards me. There were times I had to go back to the shop and let them know parts were not in spec. I hated going into the shop because one, it was extremely loud, with twelve machines running. It smelled of oil and metal. The odor lingered on my clothes afterwards. Every time I entered the shop every man would look up as I walked the aisle, a.k.a. the plank, to deliver the bad news. They usually relaxed once they realized they weren't the targets. I hated having to talk to Lumpy. I had to yell to be heard over the machines so I was usually inches away from his ear, yet he ignored me. When I showed him the bad part he would walk away. I'd leave the part on the machine and inform the manager who would run, not walk into the shop and shut down that machine.

The lunchroom was up front by the offices so I could hear the machinists talk. Lumpy without fail talked about Rush Limbaugh. He was obsessed with him. Sometimes, when I'd walk into the room to grab my food, he would deliberately say something derogatory about those "feminazis" or how slavery actually was a good thing. I once ran into him in a grocery store. He had his young son with him. I said, "hi," and waved to his son who waved back. He grabbed the back of his son's collar and stomped away. 

 They all hated Obama. After the election I was naturally elated by the outcome but I could sense the tension in the air. We were in the midst of "The Great Recession," and yes, we weren't getting jobs we once had. But, the word, "lay off" was never mentioned. 

I didn't know my days were numbered. After ten years my boss called me in his office and told me I was done. I was absolutely devastated. I went back to my desk and collected by personal belongings. As I said goodbye to my coworkers, the owner walked through the office. He never looked at me as he walked by grumbling about a missing blueprint. 

I survived. They survived. A few years ago when I was still using Facebook, I tried looking up my boss to see if they were still in business. I didn't find him but saw his son was on FB. His page was private, so I was surprised to see a message pop up from him asking who I was. Oops. I told him I used to work there and was just curious about the business. He mentioned the owner had died and my boss, his dad, was now president and that he was the manager. It was a nice, polite message. I told him to say hi to his dad for me and that was that.

I remember when I was looking at his page, his profile had the slogan, "Let's Go Brandon," so I can only assume they drank the orange Kool aid this past election. They were now the maga red hatters. To me, it's like shooting themselves in the foot. Phew, phew, phew ...

They imported all of their steel from China. There is no possible way they haven't been affected by the tariffs. I have no desire to see how they're doing, yet, my feelings are conflicted. I loved my job. I still dream I'm working there. Phew, phew.

So, as I drove home, replaying the morning over and over and driving on autopilot, I nearly turned into oncoming traffic. I slammed on the brakes just in time. I started shaking uncontrollably as the truck sped by.

2009 wasn't all bad. I was introduced to blogging  (thanks, anonymous) published a book, and never worried we were going to turn into a fascist government. 

Until now.

Be careful what you wish for, people.

*Image from Pixabay, a free image app. Not Lumpy.