Static on the Line

"Second verse....same as the first."

It's been one year, nine months, fifteen days since I got the call saying that I was closing the file on being unemployed. It's also been two years, one month and eight days since the last time I sat in an office looking across from a boss I didn't respect who was feeding me a steaming pile of insincere half-truths.

"Budgetary reasons" he said as he reached across the table to shake my hand. I looked at his hand, slightly shaking, then withdrawing, then drawing tightly to his body as he excused himself out of the conference room.

Cut ten minutes later, after the unfortunate human resources lady has finished her spiel and I'm being escorted out by the lanky security guard, who asks me what my plans are. I tell him it might be a little early for plans considering I was just told moments ago that I was without employment. He apologized, thinking I was one of the group from a few weeks prior that had been alerted to their working demise before it actually happened. Respectable style. I, myself had no such luck. One to the back of the head. Check the pockets.

He took the numbered hang-tag that allowed me to park in the parking lot without getting towed and shook my hand and wished me the best. I saw an acquaintance who asked how I was and I told her I was fired. She didn't really know what to say. I didn't either.

I texted a friend to bring my backpack outside, since I wasn't allowed to go to my desk, and a few minutes later she and another friend came out with my bag, stuffed with desk tchotchkes and got to see me cry in my car and wonder what the hell was going on and why it was happening to me.

Is this really happening again?