So Chris checked his email this morning to find a letter from his employment agency. Apparently the company he’s been working for the last seven or eight weeks decided to end his contract. No warning. No goodbye. No “Job well done.” No fucking human decency. Chris said this is just the world of contract employment in the new economy. There’s always the slight tease, the promise of possible permanent employment. They never mean it. They just use you up, spit you out and move on to the next guy.
I am exhausted. I had nearly two months this time to feel like we were almost leading a normal life. Not quite normal, because we hadn’t figured out how to negotiate with the mortgage company to clean up our mess, so that stress still hung over our heads. But almost normal. I could go to Target, buy groceries and treat the kids to frozen yogurt without worrying that there might not be money in the account. I could pay most of our bills. I could almost forget about the ax waiting to drop. Worst of all, I had pretty much gotten used to that feeling. I lost my edge. I had started to wonder if this one might be different, might be the company that actually offered him a job. My bad. I should know better that to have hope. All hope does is deflate the protective cushion that repeated negative experience provides. Hope means that when you hit the ground – as you inevitably will – you’ll be more damaged. Hope is dangerous.
So here we go, again. Chris has to try to find another contract job as fast as possible. It seemed like maybe things were better out there for awhile, whatever that means. He got a bunch of email from other employment companies looking for contract workers during the time he was with this last company. None of those help now, clearly. We have to hope (ha) that new possibilities crop up. Before the money runs out. Before we lose the house. Before everything falls apart. I don’t have much faith in any of this, in case that isn’t clear. I feel like the universe is toying with my family, knocking us around like a cat with a mouse. Actually, I’m not sure that analogy is apt, because I feel like the mouse would have a better shot at getting away. How do you run from the universe?
I am so damned tired. I want to believe things could improve, but every single time it seems they might we get struck down again. Chris is such a talented, dedicated, reliable employee. How the people he’s working with, even temporarily, can feel good about themselves after treating him so badly is beyond me. Does no one have a conscience anymore?
I am angry and deflated. I assume Chris could use bolstering, but I am in no condition to offer strength. I want to curl up in bed and just cry. How many times are we supposed to go through this before it’s enough? Even a cat eventually eats the mouse, putting it out of its misery.
How am I supposed to end this? Stay tuned for another exciting adventure of a family on a continuing downward spiral!