Shock to the system

I discovered, first hand, what a shock it is to your entire system when you are laid off from a company where you had worked for more than twenty years.

For me, the event began only five days ago, and I, at the time, had worked for the company exactly twenty years and three days.

At first, I was really upbeat and able to see it as a great opportunity. Then, for a few days, I felt as if I had some sort of serious energy-sapping ailment.

It turns out that, when something like this happens, your entire body reacts, not just your thinking and feeling self. When your body adjusts to one pattern and is soothed with it for more than twenty years, it yelps, loudly, when it is changed.

So, I was really fine that day, the day I was laid off, as I had dinner plans with friends, each of whom had connections (past or present) with the same company. We talked a lot about the situation, but we also simply had a good time with each other.

The next morning, I spent lots of time emailing old friends at the company to let them know how much I had valued their friendship and collaboration. That afternoon, I visited with the chairman of the board. It was a difficult conversation only because we had so many shared experiences over those many years. He did not know, ahead of time, that I was among those who were cut.

We had a good conversation, the highlight for me being the moment I reminded him when his eldest child decided, at age 8 or so and completely on his own, to write Isaac Asimov, seeking a meeting. Asimov was tickled by the letter and immediately replied, inviting the kid to come to New York. When I mentioned the story, my friend leaped up from his chair (we were in his sitting room, one of the benefits of being the chairman, CEO, and largest stockholder of a company of this stature: you can have a sitting room) and walked over to the cork board where he had many dozens of snapshots of his kids, now all grown and moved out of the nest.

Sure enough, he found the shot of his eldest with serious intent visible on his face, his only son, barely reaching Asimov's waist he was so small, walking toward the camera with a smiling Asimov behind, hand on the shoulder of the child in front of him.

I recalled that photo--I had seen it many times and heard the story from the kid, himself, when I was helping him with his computer a couple of years after he met Asimov--and I recalled that event, right then as I was talking with my friend and saying goodbye, because it, for me, is the perfect example of living a life free of self-inflicted limitation. The little boy (he is now 28, by the way) had no idea that it would be in any way difficult to arrange a meeting with Isaac Asimov. So, he made it happen.

It's an important lesson for me, as I seek to prove the clichés wrong and find just the perfect job for me, even as the economy is a bit down and my age is a bit above what some employers would prefer.

There's a place for the silverbacks. I'll find mine.