Go Ahead and Get Fired
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I’m not a trampoline jumper, but I imagine there’s an instant of joy when you rise up and get a fleeting new view of your surroundings, accompanied by a subliminal shot of fear that some cosmic a-hole might have yanked the whole thing out from under you and you’re about to slam into hard earth.
That’s what it feels like on Day 1 after being fired without notice.
I’m exaggerating. I did get some notice -- one and a half working days. That was after more than 14 years of applying skills my former boss held "in the highest regard." I received no severance pay. "There just isn’t any money," he said in a trembling voice.
I had been hearing him fret about the shortage of money ever since the Great Recession wrecked his once-thriving company, so I had become inured to it.
I watched the firm shrink over those years. Most of the employees vanished. The remaining skeleton staff began working from home long before it became a thing, to save the cost of office space.
Like the proverbial frog in a slowly heating pot, I didn’t feel the water coming to a boil. My position was essential, I thought. I was safe as long as the company survived. I guess it won’t.
It’s possible that without my burdensome salary the firm will rise like a phoenix from the ashes, but I really think all that’s left is an ember my ex-boss is furiously blowing on. His situation is far worse than mine, but I’m not feeling generous enough to care. Losing a job the way I just did is a real sympathy killer.
Pause and Hit Reset
Even so, I recommend that you go ahead and get fired -- you'll thank me later. That's how I feel from my new vantage point a few feet in the air. I'm a little breathless with excitement.
Fourteen-plus years with the same company -- most of them under the cloud of financial gloom -- is more than enough. I should have bailed a long time ago. The sad fact is that if I hadn't been canned, I'd still be giving my talent to a lost cause -- one that never really stirred my passions. I enjoyed the work at times, but that's tepid praise. Sometimes I enjoy folding towels too.
It turns out that getting fired because someone else ran out of money is not a huge blow to the ego. What I feel more ashamed of right now is having settled so long for a job that was never going to let me spread my wings to their full span. That's on me, but I just got another chance.
Since I broke the news, a number of people have reassured me their own experiences losing jobs always led to something better. I don’t think it’s the firing that leads -- I think it’s the self-evaluation it necessitates.
Is what I just lost what I wanted to devote myself to for the rest of my life? That doesn’t require a lot of thought. The answer is no. I got to be very proficient at what I did for all those years, and I found some ways to make the work more interesting and challenging, but it was never a good fit. It never felt big enough.
Whose Needs?
I don’t have a clear picture of exactly what job would feel right, but I didn’t make that a priority in past job searches. I was practical. I always bent myself to conform to the needs of a job instead of holding out for one that would fulfill mine.
My most important work is ahead of me. That’s not bravado -- I know it’s true. I also know that my most important work may be insignificant compared to other important works, but I can’t view it through that lens, so that has to be irrelevant to my decision making. Either I fulfill my potential or I don’t. Getting fired has reopened my options. I needed that.
You don’t have to follow in my shaky footsteps to take advantage of my illumination. If you have the guts, you can jump into the icy water without being shoved. It takes courage, because once you’ve embarked on the road to self discovery you may find there’s no turning back.
Lock Onto Your Target
Here’s what I suggest: Get fired in your head. Really visualize how it might go down -- the words said, the practical details that solidify them, the hasty tying up of loose strings.
Allow yourself to feel the confusion, anger and loss that come with rejection. Imagine the worry over how you’ll keep the roof from caving in. Then let your mind settle, and feel the rust flake off as gears you haven’t used in a good long while start turning.
What are you, really? Are you the title that someone else had the power to abruptly snatch away? What mysterious desires have you locked in your heart, to retrieve in some dim distant future when you have more time and freedom?
To say that when one door closes, another one opens makes it seem like someone else is pushing the automatic door buttons. I prefer to think that when a door hits you on the way out, you should use the energy of that strike. Let it propel you to the door you’ve been afraid to knock on your whole life -- and then push that sucker wide open.
I’m between doors right now. The force is with me, but I have to decide which direction to go. I need to choose wisely, and then summon the nerve to follow my heart’s desire.
