Oh, my dear Alanis Morissette, your words are ever-so-true. It is ironic. And annoying.
Last week, I got an early morning call from one my editors at the paper. Never a good sign when you work the night shift. He proceeds to inform my sleep-addled brain that the paper is offering voluntary buyouts in an effort to cut a certain number of positions.
I wake up a little.
Then he says that, although the buyouts are voluntary, at least one position in the newsroom must go and if nobody else takes the buyout, the position getting the axe will be mine.
OK, I’m up.
He gives me a bunch of information about how and why and when all of this is happening. Nothing that really matters much, because none of it will enable me to keep my job or make the fact that I will likely lose it any easier to deal with. The company didn’t make as much money as it hoped to, revenue is to volatile, nobody saw this coming, people will have one week to apply for the buyout, I’ll know what my fate is 12/09, blah blah blah.
Well, crap. If you read my previous post in September about landing this job, you’ll know how excited and relieved I was to to work for a paper again. You’ll also probably know that I was a little apprehensive about taking the job and that I left an incredibly secure and stable job elsewhere to work for the News-Democrat. Looks like I was right to be concerned.
I won’t know what’s happening for a couple of days, but I’m planning my life as if definitely don’t have a job. I’m looking at my options and trying to figure out what to do next. It seems like the only way to guarantee your personal security and well-being these days is to be your own boss. With that in mind, I’m pursuing some freelance opportunities and seriously considering going back to school for a career change.
All I know is that when you’re only 25 and have been laid off three times in two years, something out there isn’t quite right.