The Walking Dead

When I last left you, I was sitting in the conference room at my new office and listening to the head honcho guy (HHG) tell me that my new position had just been eliminated. Before I get into what happened next, here's an outfit and a few words about that outfit.

sweater — Delia*s (Delia*s)

dress — Spiegel (thrifted)

boots — Unlisted (thrifted)

When I tried on this dress the other morning, I groaned out loud — a really loud groan. I bought it when I was probably 20 pounds lighter, so it was way too tight now. It's one of those clingy form-fitting garments that shows every extra ounce, and in not a very pleasing way. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't uncomfortably tight (usually I'm chomping at the bit in tight clothes, and I can't wait to rip them off of me), so I tried to figure out how I could still wear it. I think the sweater really ended up saving the day and kept this dress from going back to where I got it from originally (the thrift store). Besides it brightened up the dress considerably.

So .... about my job. HHG told me that they were very sorry, that they had no idea this was coming down the pike, but their client had told them to reduce costs on their contract. My position was more or less a luxury position, so it meant that my position, and me along with it, had to go. (I say luxury, because my role as a technical writer was to make the company look and sound good — I didn't do any product development or fill a role that was a requirement of the contract.)

HHG then tried to soften the blow by saying that if I was interested, they still had a need for a technical writer in their headquarters in Herndon, Virgina, and that headquarters was *only* an hour from DC.

Okay. If I lived in DC, an hour commute wouldn't be that big of a deal. And if I lived a few miles to the south and east of DC in Virginia, it would be even better. Unfortunately I don't live in DC or in Virginia, I live in Delaware. My commute to DC was already two and a half hours one way, and I'm supposed to add another hour onto that. Is he kidding? (and yes, he knew where I lived — that was his first question, "Am I still living in Delaware?")

This is the quizzical dorky look.

I try to explain this, and HHG goes running out of the room. He comes back in a few minutes later with directions from one of my now former co-workers. I look down at the itinerary, and headquarters is *not* another hour, give or take a few minutes, from DC. It's an hour and a half, if not longer — 45 minutes on the metro, 45 minutes on the bus, and then I have to walk a half mile! My head is starting to spin. I'm thinking ... a four-hour commute? one way? I can't do that. They can't be serious. I tell HHG that I can't do that. How will I even be able to function? I'm not going to be of any use to anybody if I have joined the ranks of the walking dead.

He says that I should just give the commute a try and come in the following day. Don't worry about what time you get there. Just try it. You might like it ... (Okay, he probably didn't say that I might like it. I think he said, "See if it's manageable for you.")

(to be continued ...)

Linking up to Megan Mae and Keely's This or That Fashion Challenge. This outfit was intended for the midi or maxi challenge, but I realize now that it could have also qualified for Fall Brights.

Also linking up to Patti at Visible Monday. This outfit may not have seemed so visible, but for me, it was. It was just so different from what I would have worn a few years ago. And isn't that what it's all about?

Confucius Says ...

Confucius says, "Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in getting up every time we do."

I've become a real pro at getting up — both figuratively and literally. 

 

shirt — Crazy Horse (thrifted)

sweater — Ann Taylor Loft (thrifted)

skirt — Talbots (thrifted)

boots — Classique (thrifted)

Do you ever have one of those days that starts off great, and then goes steadily downhill?  Or maybe the day just starts off bad and keeps getting worse? I had such a day a week ago. 

 

That particular day started off pretty good. I woke up and got myself ready for my fabulous new job in Washington, D.C. (and I mean new job — I was just two weeks into it at that point). I remember really liking my outfit, and being kind of surprised that I was able to put it together in the wee hours of the morning. I remember feeling pretty darn good about myself — I was strutting and preening in front of the mirror before I left the house. I loved how my skirt moved; I liked my boots; and I really, really liked my big heavy necklace, which one of the guys at work even complimented me on. (I also wore bracelets and rings, but I forgot to put them back on — you'll have to imagine them.)

 

Everything else that morning went pretty smoothly. The train arrived on time in DC at 8:17 a.m., and I joined the hordes of commuters streaming every which way out of Union Station. I had almost made it out of the building, when all of a sudden ...   

... my foot slipped, and down, down I went. In front of everybody!

And I mean, I went S-P-L-A-T. And not just me. My cell phone went flying (and boy did it fly on those polished walkways — too bad I wasn't playing shuffleboard with it). My apples and oranges were rolling everywhere.

  

 

There I was, sprawled on the ground in the middle of Union Station in DC. Oh. My. God. How humiliating is that? No way to pretend that it hadn't happened (you know, like when you wave at somebody you thought was waving at you but they weren't so you just pretend that you were scratching your ear or waving at the person behind them?). 

I picked myself up as gracefully as I could, picked up my cell phone, my apples, and my oranges, and everything else that had fallen out of my overstuffed bag, and continued on my merry way, not realizing that I was going to have to pick myself up yet again before the day was over.

The rest of the day was rather uneventful. I was working on a deadline, so I kept my head buried in my work for the most part, and I was making a lot of progress. Time just flew by that day. I was feeling pretty about where I was, and what I was doing.

And then ... And then ... [insert the sound of ominous music here]

 

Just as I was just packing up so I could catch the train home, my boss's boss (you know, the head honcho guy) stopped by and asked if he could talk with me for a few minutes in the conference room. Ummmm ... okay. What was I going to say, "No. I can't talk now, I have to catch the train. Hit me up tomorrow if you want to talk." 

I'm following him down the hallway, and I'm thinking, this is not good, and I'm wracking my brain trying to figure out what I did wrong. Did I dress inappropriately one day? Did I say the wrong thing to the wrong person?

No. This was not going to be good at all. 

We go in the conference room. He shuts the door, and tells me that my position was being eliminated. Just like that. Poof! Up in smoke. My dream job was gone. I can't even begin to tell you the feelings that came over me at that moment. Disbelief. Panic. Shock. Sadness. I wanted to laugh hysterically and then cry. I wanted to stamp my feet and scream, "NO! You can't do this to me. What am I supposed to do with my month-long train ticket? I bought an iPad so I could do work on the train." And ... and ... and ...

AGGGGH!  

(to be continued ... )

I'm linking this post to Megan Mae and Keely's This or That Challenge. 

They have the best challenges! I just wish that I could keep up with them!

I'm a day early for this one — this outfit should really be for tomorrow's dots or stripes challenge (my skirt is actually polka dots). But tomorrow is already today, so maybe I'm right on time?

  

Also, since my outfit was 100% thifted, I'm linking to Spunky Chateau, Thursday is for Thrifters Challenge. 

BTW, I also wore this sweater here. Which look do you like better?

What should I do with the bottoms of these boots so I don't slip and fall the next time that I wear them?