Dean and I always understood the risk of both of us working for the same company. We'd put all our eggs into one basket and if the basket dropped, well... shrug. But the company was a large and supposedly successful, 3 billion in revenues even in these troubled times. And if it was a little like working for a bank because it had started to turn its focus away from the cool, hip products that created this 3 billion dollars in revenue towards boring software to help IT departments create workflows to manage their internal paperwork, well, it seemed a safe harbor.

So, the company announced another big layoff to keep the shareholders happy. It doesn't matter that they were making more money than they were spending, they didn't have 2 digit growth, so the stock was down, which in today's market means the analysts demand that you cut back your staff to prove that you're taking this seriously. Because it's not about the profit and loss, it's all about the stock price. Personally, I've never met an analyst I didn't think was full of crap and, with the SEC investigations in the recent months, it appears that many of them are just running an elaborate game of three card monte, so how did we get this situation where American business is being run based on "what will the analysts think"?

Dean knew that his job was at risk. He worked in a small group that did a set of features for a product that was (1) never very successful, it was a distant 4th (at best) in the marketplace, (2) the main body of the group was in Germany, so there were communication difficulties, and (3) he was the sole Macintosh programmer in the sub-group in a company where because of its focus on software for large corporations was increasingly anti-Macintosh. So, when layoff day came, he had his desk cleaned off and was ready for the manager to come in, tell him that the entire group was canned, and give him his paperwork. That was 9:10 a.m. He called me and I was still on the phone with him when my manager walked in. Now my group was in research. We were a very small team working on a prototype that would maybe become a product a year or two from now. So, there was no immediate payoff for the company. But we'd just done some great demos for the executive staff, where they'd seemed excited about what we were doing, it was a whole new direction for the company, it was Windows application for IT departments which fit into their long term strategy. We had been told that we were safe, that we were going to get a bigger budget as a result of the layoffs. In fact, we were warned not to brag about benefiting from the layoff. And they had just made a job offer to a new guy for our 7 person group the day before.

So, I was shocked to see my manager standing there with a "you're outta here" piece of paper with my name on it. They had paperwork with my name on it, they had checks cut, they knew Wednesday when they made that guy a job offer that they were laying me off the next day. Which really sucks. Kinda hard not to take that personally. Sure I'd never like my manager. He was one of those pointy-haired, weasel-headed Dilbert-esque style of managers. But he telecommuted, so I really only saw him once a week for a 1 hour meeting and I can be on my best behavior for one hour a week, so there was never any friction between us that I knew about. I'd gotten good reviews, regular bonuses. (Though who knows? Maybe there was some secret weasel-head kind of language, some sort of secret handshake, that I just didn't get.) No matter who you are, firing people is unpleasant. And unfortunately, under stress, people become more of themselves, rather than less. In our worst moments, we are truely and purely ourselves. So, this guy was in full pointy-haired, weasel-headed-ness. He stood there, recited some formal little speech he'd memorized, refused to answer any questions, handed me this piece of paper, and then proceeded to get really pissed off when I started to cry. My entire household income had gone from 60 to 0 in minutes and he was angry at me. His lack of sympathy was only exceeded by the very cheerful HR person. Her reaction on seeing me rather stunned and tear-stained was to suggest that perhaps I needed professional help. I then introduced her to my husband who was standing next to me because he needed his exit packet as well and her reaction was to say that it must be nice to go through this together. Huh? I'm sorry, let me repeat that. Huh?

The next day I had to go back for a benefit briefing and ran into an HR person I knew, that I'd taken aerobics classes with in the company gym and she started to give me a pep talk. She talked about how everything was going to turn around soon and she was sure that Adobe would want to hire me back. She wanted me to have her contact information. Dean said I showed great restraint by just looking at her numbly, rather than strangling her on the spot. Now I'm not in a position where I can be very picky about a job. I may get enormously lucky, but most likely my next job will be a weigh station, a temporary thing, something to keep the wheels of technology turning until the valley recovers, but I would have to be completely desperate to go back to that company. Realistically, I'm not a "friend" of the company that this point. I don't wish them well. There isn't even any satistfaction in getting really, really angry because the company forgot me 5 minutes before I was gone. They've moved on and the only tourist hanging around Cape Fear and Dismal Point is me. (Oh, and Dean. Isn't it nice to go through this together, eh?)

Fortunately, between the severance pay and the savings and the stock, the wolf is far from the door. We are blessed with reasonably good health. We have time to play and to consider this "time off for good behavior". So, this section of the journey will be, I suppose, filled with the fun facts of what it means to be middle-aged and restless and responsibility-free in America. We will brace our spines, stiffen our lips and go forth. Brave little slackers are we.

The first thing we did was throw a dart at the map and say, you know, we've never been to Death Valley even though we first met and fell in love in Ridgecrest, gateway to Death Valley. So, we packed up the car for a quick road trip.