Caught In the Wash

Just when I was hoping that the bad of 2007 and 2008 was wearing off, the other shoe dropped as the axe fell on the fat lady singing.

Circling the Drain
In 2003 I topped out at 94,000 miles on United Air Lines, with three trips to Hawaii in a six-week period, plus a now long-forgotten string of trips everywhere else. But that was also the year the United States initiated war on two fronts amid an economy reeling from the burst tech bubble and the effects of the 9/11 terrorist attacks on our nation. It's when things started to come apart.

I started my job in 2001, and established a travel trend. The following year showed an increase over the first, and 2003 was the peak. In the ensuing years, as the war(s) raged on in faraway places, our clients' budgets were gradually trimmed, certain of our services were not requested or were sought at a discount. The trend continued through each year; fewer videos were requested, fewer trips were made, fewer miles accumulated, and we were expected to cram more shooting into fewer shoot days on each trip.

Then came 2008 and the financial malfeasance of the largest insurance company in the world — and our second largest client — exposed when the stock markets could no longer maintain their stability. The ensuing bailout of the financial industry, and a further, yet misunderstood, misstep by that largest insurance company seemed to intensify the gravitational pull on the economy.

That largest of insurance companies, bolstered by the federal shot in the arm, proceeded to do business as usual, the business of making money. Unfortunately for them — though fortunately for the bloodthirsty news media — business as usual included annual incentive meetings recognizing their top performers, their top earners of the many smaller companies that make up the larger. This recognition was, for one of these smaller companies, in the form of a business conference at an upscale resort somewhere in the world where its top performers were lavished with dinners and entertainment and awards ceremonies, all on top of a few days with a lush resort at their disposal. What the rest of the world doesn't know because the ratings-hungry, bloodthirsty media didn't tell them is that this lavish party thrown for the people who earned the company millions of dollars in the previous year had already been paid for a year in advance. None of the bailout money had been used to put on the spectacle, save, probably, for travel expenses. And they flew in coach. I know this. I've flown with them.

The lawmakers, infuriated by the news media "exposure" of that largest insurance company's perceived lack of decorum with their assistance money, then further restricted that company from planning any more incentive trips, thus punishing the very people responsible for the company's earnings. Further, as that large insurance company had to cancel its contracts with several dozen resort hotels, event planning companies, travel management companies, and audio-visual event staging companies around the world, it lost several million more dollars that it had paid in non-refundable deposits and pre-payments to secure properties and services.

The side-effect, then, is that all those fringe companies lost work. All those companies faced huge budget shortfalls. All those small companies that rely on big companies doing big business with them had the rug yanked out from under their feet. And now all those companies are in crisis, letting staffers go, trying to outrun complete ruin.

Down the Tube
Three months into 2009, I had traveled a grand total of 5,300 miles on my airline of choice. The average by April 1 in prior years had been around 17,000 miles. Things were looking bleak.

On Friday I was working on a long-term, in-house project creating a book of photo contact sheets of the stages of all of our conventions and business meetings dating as far back as 1996. I was just about finished rearranging all of the pages in the backup copy when the accountant/CFO of the company appeared in the hallway and asked me to come to her office when I was done with what I was doing. I said I would, but I still had about a half-hour of work to do. After she walked away, the gears started turning in my head.

In October of 2008, two of the most recently hired people were laid off. It happened on a Friday afternoon at the end of a pay period.

I looked at my watch. It was about 4:00. The CFO rarely asked me to come to her office. If I was missing a receipt, she usually brought out a photocopy of a credit card statement with my expenses highlighted, and the transaction awaiting a receipt underlined. I started mentally preparing myself for a blow.

About ten minutes later she came back out and urgently waved at me to come with her. I followed her to her office and when I walked in, there sat the owner of the company. He asked me to close the door.

The good part of it is that he tried to be upbeat, earnest in letting me know that there is no animosity on his part in his decision to let me go, that it is just an unpleasant part of doing business. He told me there is a likelihood in the short term that I could be called back to work on a freelance basis should the need arise, and that, long term, if things turn around sufficiently, that I could be called back to join the staff again. However, he didn't sound as confident about the latter as he did the former. He gave me his assurance that I have his recommendation any time I ask for it.

It is clear to me that he is in survival mode.

And so, I am now among the ranks of the unemployed.


Phone Deaf
Since around 2003 I have carried a mobile phone provided to me by my employer. It actually supplanted my personal mobile phone as my employer purchased unlimited long distance plans and placed no restrictions on personal calls.

Upon my dismissal from their employ, I was notified that I could keep the phone (it's about three years old) and the phone number, but I would have to handle its transfer to a personal account.

I was told that there was no hurry in getting my ass out the door. I could take time to tell my now-former coworkers of my dismissal, or I could bolt out the door that second. I chose to stay and finish putting the pages in the book I had been working on, and then I went around the office and told people on an individual, face-to-face basis that I would not be back on Monday. It got me a big, warm hug from the hot graphic artist chick! I can say that now because I don't work with her any more.

A couple of guys said they would take me out for a beer, and they did. I felt bad enough already; I didn't want to swig beer all evening, risk a DUI on the way home and then wake up feeling like hell on top of feeling like shit…and possibly in the pokey…so I had A beer. They also footed for the steak dinner I had. And the cute waitress leaned against my leg every time she came to the table.

When I got home I sent e-mail to my siblings and to all of my friends across the country to let them know I was out of work and potentially coming to live with them. I announced it to the world in my Facebook status updater, and the responses started pouring in. The sympathy and shock were heartfelt and appreciated. My college friend who now lives in Florida was worried about me because, as she wrote in the Facebook chat box, she had tried to call me but couldn't get through, and she couldn't even leave me a voice mail.

That was odd. I picked up my phone and it appeared to be off. I pressed the "End" button to turn it on. It showed me the usual Verizon startup graphic, but then the screen went black for a second or two, and a strange, blue screen that I had never seen before popped up with the Motorola logo and a very tech-y font that read "BOOTLOADER USB INIT."

Those motherfuckers! I thought. They turned off my phone pretty much as I had walked out the door! My Florida friend called them bastards!

I had planned to make a trip to the Verizon store Saturday morning, anyway, but now it was absolutely necessary!

Saturday morning I fielded more responses to my predicament, chatted again with my Florida friend, and then I went to the Verizon store. I told the woman who greeted me about my circumstances, that the phone had already been turned off and asked if I could change the service over to a personal account. She called up the account by my phone number and gave the computer a strange look. Then she said, "The number is still active."

"Well, the phone doesn't work," I said.

She asked me, "What's it doing?"

I told her about the blue screen, and she shook her head.

"That means your phone is fried."

"Fried?" I asked.

"Fried."

The conversation went on like that for a few more seconds, at which point she told me that the blue screen pops up when the memory is full with too many photos and/or texts and/or audio or video files. And nothing can be done with it. None of the stored information can be retrieved from it.

Totally. Fupped. Duck. Dead.

All my contacts — gone. All my Police concert at Wrigley Field photos — gone. My photo of Jesus Christ at the airport, the photos of my ex-wife…. okay, maybe not so bad after all.

And my former employer had not turned off my phone.

Nobody at the Verizon store would transfer the number from the corporate account into a personal account without authorization from my former employer's CFO, who was also responsible for the Verizon contract. The manager was now chiming in. I asked if the CFO could do it over the phone, and they said they could try. Then it hit me: I don't know the CFO's number; I always used the speed dial function on my mobile phone! The other option was for me to fill out a form that I would then send in to Verizon. Once approved, they would transfer the number into a personal account in my name. That would take a minimum of two weeks. Mobile is the only voice communication I have. I do not have home phone service; I'm über-progressive that way. I had to get phone service today, whether it be my current number or a new one. So the Verizon lady looked more deeply into the corporate account info on her screen and found the CFO's mobile phone number!

I interrupted her grocery shopping, but she was very helpful in speaking to the Verizon folks, authorizing them to switch the number, and telling me to call her again if I needed anything.

I got the neat little Krave™ touch-screen phone by Motorola that had a special deal on offer. Of course, now the anal side of me is in constant freak mode because I have to touch the screen! I spent a good portion of the afternoon and early evening going through my e-mail address book and discovering how out of date a lot of my friends' contact information is! I got some phone numbers loaded, but the majority are lost until I can get the numbers from mutual acquaintances.


The Road Ahead
I still haven't gotten my head completely around what I have to do. Since I joined the Air Force in 1983, I had only been unemployed twice before — the first time right after I got out of the Air Force, and the next time eleven years later for an eight-month stretch when I moved back to Chicago and in with the future ex-Mrs. Farrago. That was almost ten years ago.

I received a decent severance. I could loaf for a month or so and concentrate on my writing. I have my Big Story that's been gathering dust on the proverbial shelf and in need of a research trip or two. I could explore different careers, such as professional writer, voice actor, actor actor, nude model, mod nudel….

But the responsible freak inside me says I should find some kind of employment SOON, like TOMORROW. So I will look.

Do you suppose they advertise for nude models in the newspaper?



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