There’s tumult in the office. Word of a severe budget crisis is circulating, and employees are having trouble focusing on their daily tasks. I lean back in my chair, prop my feet up on the guitar amp beneath my desk, and take a sip from my Bigelow tea as I study the behavior of my fellow staff members.
One of my coworkers, having recently returned from maternity leave, leans over another coworker’s desk to converse in a whisper. The second coworker just sent two kids off to college and is feeling the burn of high tuition costs. When do you think…? Who might they…? Eyes dart around. The Sparklett’s delivery man walks in to drop-off two new water jugs, but our financial officer waves him off. Not this month. An unpaid intern crosses their path, asking if anyone wants to share a Subway coupon with her. She hasn’t been receiving her usual free lunches lately and could use the discount. I can’t help but wonder if anyone is going to survive this.
This is an axe. It was placed here in this post for dramatic effect.
For anyone who has been a victim of cost-cutting, the feeling is all too familiar. An atmosphere of U-turn ideology vaguely cloaked in the red flag of “Urgency”, yielding abrupt shifts in policy and mood that can take that feeling in your stomach from empty to ulcer. Daily achievements are cast aside, making way for newfound anxiety about the newest past deadline. Uncertain. Unwieldy. Unpleasant.
The possibility has been looming over the organization for months. The beginning of my experiment-turned-lifestyle came on the heels of a financial tremor that froze raises and bonuses, and there have since been multiple aftershocks–or seismic predecessors–in the months leading up to what now seems like a looming cataclysmic earthquake. But instead of running for cover, I’m straddling the trembling fault line.
Aren’t I heroic?
Not really. Just a touch more prepared to take the hit.
Two weeks ago, my boss called a meeting and announced the extent of the organization’s financial woes. “It’s an extremely challenging time,” she said. “Can I guarantee your jobs are safe? No.” She glanced around the table to gauge our reactions. I sat in silence, wringing my sweaty hands. This was the moment I had been conflictingly anticipating for months. Was it possible that I’d be laid off?
For most people, this is an extremely unpleasant notion to consider. One might think I’d feel the same, seeing as my place of employment is my home in addition to my main source of income. Fortunately, a few factors allow me to take a more colorful perspective. For one, I’m rent-free already. So there’s little existing overhead to take care of. Secondly, California state unemployment insurance would be kind to me. Before taxes, I’d collect $1,800 per month while I get back on my feet. Also, with a few paid creative endeavors bolstering a growing buffer of savings, I have a few coals in the fire to survive a little joblessness. And as a potential bonus, I’m talking with another organization who is encouraging me to apply for a dream position with them.
Financially, I should survive it. There’d be time to more quickly prepare The Office Hobo memoirs for publication, as well as time to work on my other writing projects, all while finding a way to earn a stable income happily. The thought is actually kind of exciting.
But what about housing?
I would miss the office. It’s the closest thing to any building I can call “home”. Ironically, the philosophical love affair with living home-free that has developed as a result of living there could be what allows me to leave it. I’m ready to take that home-free affair to a new level. One of matrimonial proportions.
Over the last few months, I have been building a cozy multi-purpose room in the covered bed of my pickup truck. I plan on explaining this in detail in another post (coming soon!), but in short the plans for this room include everything from a twin-sized memory foam mattress to expandable folding cabinet door/counter-tops and a custom sunroof for ventilation… and stargazing. Like a loyal follower suggested on my Facebook page, this is a mobile living unit. Though not quite as luxurious as a full-hookup RV, it’s infinitely more stealthy. And yes, it sleeps two comfortably.
What appears to be on the horizon for me is a healthy serving of home-free with a tasty side-dish of job-free.
Will this actually come to fruition though? What if I get this other job? What if everyone else is let go but me?
I hope to find out soon. I’ve scheduled a meeting with my boss to discuss the prospect of layoffs. If she is planning on it, I will suggest she chooses me first. While I’d be happy to keep my job–it is flexible and earns me more than enough income–it would hardly be the end of the world for me to be released. With no newborn to take care of, no kids in college, and a safety net that can sustain my lifestyle, eliminating my position first, from a personal standpoint, makes a hell of a lot of sense. Whether or not I’m expendable professionally.
The new sequel in my home-free storyline might be right around the corner.
– T.O.H.
