The Job

I know I should be grateful for my job. The Russian masseuse I visited on Saturday was telling me all about the depressed conditions of her homeland and used the expression, “no verk” a lot. I vowed to come to the office today with renewed gratitude for my paycheck, but alas, one does not turn over new leaves with such ease.

Perhaps I’ve lost my ability to disguise my apathy, because tomorrow, I’m supposed to have my annual review. My boss invited me to discuss it over lunch. That can’t be good news. He has never invited me to lunch. I’m debating whether he thinks that after nine years, I’m the type to go postal when he delivers the news that I’ve been sacked, so he wants me off-site to protect the others, or he’s just being nice. On the other hand, he said I could choose the restaurant which means he isn’t trying to steer us to a high security venue. On the other hand, he invited me to lunch.

As far as totem poles go, I’m pretty low on it, so I can’t see any reason why anyone would take me to lunch. I know I’m the most popular person in the building and all, but I really don’t anticipate my colleagues walking out the door in mass protest when I’m axed, which would be the only reason to take me off-site alone. It’s just so odd.

Two things: I’m having prime rib (it may be the last good meal I have for a while) and I’ll be packing.

It wouldn’t be the end of the world if I am fired, at least not initially. I’d have more time to exercise and play the violin, though no money to pay for the gym membership or violin lessons. It would also mean that I’d have to rely on my husband for money and let’s just say I can already anticipate a couple of arguments over wardrobe and cilantro. The only other jobs in this town are at the banks. A) I hated working for the bank in ways that I couldn’t ever possibly find words to adequately describe. B) With the sub-prime loan fall-out, I’m not sure anyone is hiring.