...but it's not always a bad thing.

One time, well into middle-age, I got shown the door at my employer. I had referred to a particular business manager at the company as "Finney" on a business call with people I didn't know. This was because his last name was...Finney. Everyone called him Finney. They'd say things like "Finney's team is a disaster," "Pretty sure Finney is violating employment law" and "That Finney is a walking lawsuit." Yet Finney remained gainfully employed. He's probably a CEO somewhere.

Someone on this random call took offense that I referred to Mr. Finney as "Finney." So much so that they informed one of my peers in HR. Now you might think that people in HR would have each other's back, especially when the violator in question is a high-value employee who has always done excellent work. HR folks are usually involved in crazy employee relations situations: people getting violent, people hooking up at work, people using drugs because the thought of doing their job sober makes them want to jump out a window. Surely an offense this petty would warrant a nice "yeah, sure, we'll look into that" and then go back to their online shopping - er....I mean....talent development programs or whatever it is that HR does (note: I was and am employed in HR. Even I don't know what we do).

As you can surmise, this isn't what happened. I don't know who it was, but I'm guessing someone with a title that included "director" in it said something to their HR partner. And because HR is actually an ineffectual construct with no real power at all, I imagine the result was "Don't worry Director Aint-No-One-Got-Any-Respect-Anymore, I'll bring down the hammer. I'll WRITE HIM UP!"

Now, is getting written up really a big deal? Of course not. If it is, well, then they've already decided to sh*t-can you anyways, and this is just a cover-your-ass-so-we-don't-get-sued formality. When that's not the case, what actually happens? Someone types some yackity-yack on a blank Word document that they probably saved to a folder on their desktop called "Stuff," which then gets deleted when they spill their Starbucks mocha frappe on it, and then they get a new computer and go "wait, none of that stuff on my desktop was backed up?!?" No dumb-dumb, it wasn't.

The point is: who gives a sh*t? It doesn't matter. So when that happens, the wise thing to do is just sit there looking like everything you're being told is so boring that you might pass out because your blood pressure has dropped to dangerously low levels. Whip out your phone, yawn, and look up recipes to bake your own bread (and never follow through). Demonstrate non-verbally how little this matters. And when the corporate version of a kindergarten lecture has completed, let out a mighty yawn-and-stretch, slap your thighs before bounding up, and go "I'm gonna go get a mocha frappe!" Thus concludes the performative dance. Well done Astaire!

What you DON'T do is interrupt this performance art two sentences in with "Are you f*cking kidding me?!?"

Also, don't turn to your newly-hired boss and go "You're just going to hang out me out to dry right now?!?"

Definitely don't call "this whole place" a "joke." Your coworkers will include themselves in the "this whole place" part.

And remember that it's not supposed to be your decision when to end the meeting. Because blurting out "This is bullsh*t" and walking out of the room will convey finality to the other participants, and they were the ones who were supposed to the end meeting.

I dumb part is I thought of my company as so dysfunctional that when I came into work the next day I honestly didn't think anything significant had changed, just another day at the glue factory (or maybe I'm dysfunctional for NOT thinking that?) So when I received a random chat from an HR coworker to meet her in a small conference room, I thought nothing of it.

In hindsight, what was surprising to me was not that I got fired - I actually took that pretty calmly. It was a kick in the ass I needed. This place was a dumpster fire. I should have looked for a new job at least a year ago...but I really liked having a 10 minute commute on my bike. And let's be real, looking for a job is the worst.

No, what was surprising was that when I came to grab my stuff post-canning, everyone in my department was gone. A cubicle ghost town. Working at a dysfunctional company, we often had to participate in this game. Someone was getting canned, so they'd round the rest of us up like the human cattle we are, and herd us into the large conference room, where we all made small talk while Sally Salary-Too-High - who had given decades of her life to this company - got frog-marched out of the building like she had SARS, not even allowed the dignity to gather her belongings or say goodbye to people she had built long-term friendships with. I had been part of this ritual many a time. So when I walked out and realized everyone had been herded up and was huddled awkwardly in some conference room talking about the weather or whatever because of my impending departure, I was just embarrassed because I hadn't seen it coming.

Now I realize being fired/unemployed can be a blow to the old ego. It can be a source of stress and even depression for some.

I loved it.

I can say that because I am Dutch/Luxembourger, which is another way of saying "cheap." But the good part about being cheap is that you have enough savings to not freak out at the first sign of a job loss. The tradeoff of not being able to spend money but having the freedom to not go into work was the dog's bollocks. I had time to read books, work out, and (gasp) cook full meals. I even undertook what I called "commodity index pricing analysis" - which is to say I biked to a bunch of different grocery stores and tallied prices for a host of staple foods to understand where I should buy my groceries from. Conclusion: Look for ground beef sales at Pick N' Save, but don't sleep on the prebagged produce from Aldi's people!

There's only aspect to unemployment that was embarrassing to me: who wants to date some middle-aged dude with NO JOB. Ain't no one got time for no scrub, am I right ladies?!?

But another pro for unemployment: You ain't got sh*t to do the next day..or the day after that. So when you get a random text from Rebecca that she's down the block at Vitucci's with a friend named Katie she thinks I'd really dig, you check your schedule ("oh look, wide open again!"), find one of three clean shirts in your possession, and get movin'.

So I get to the bar, and Rebecca knew her stuff. This girl was hot; capital "h"-capital "o"-capital "t" hot. Her name was Katie. Cool, cool, cool. Cute girl, awesome.

So much like golf, you try to keep a million thoughts straight in your head the whole time:

- Try to sound interesting without bragging

- Try to make her laugh, but without it seeming like you're trying

- Make up a totally valid reason for not having a job. Better yet, try to deflect from my employment status altogether

And much like golf, you try to keep all those disparate instructions straight in your head, and you inevitably chunk the shot with your ball landing in a water hazard. I wasn't getting a reciprocating vibe. My ability to generate some attraction was a slice into the next fairway. I was falling off the leaderboard. I was putting like Rory. Golf metaphors!

So I left that night, smitten but disheartened. She was friendly and all, but there were no sparks a-flyin'. I was yanking the pull cord on the lawnmower of love, but the engine wasn't catching. I followed up with Rebecca and got the "oh yeah, I'll ask her" response, which was classic girl code for "take a hint dude."

So I went dateless for the next couple months of unemployment. And while I was enjoying myself that summer, there comes a time when you randomly wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and think "My God, no one on earth will hire me with an employment gap this big!" With a heavy heart, it was time to pursue a job. Time to stop dressing in athletic shorts. Time to practice humble-bragging about everything I've ever done in my career. Time to practice telling people I left my old employer "because I needed a change" and not because it was run by living embodiment of the Dunning-Kruger effect.

That last one took a lot of practice.

Anyone who's been unemployed knows the dregs of job hunting. Just constant rejection. It's like dating, except you're always the one who gets ghosted. "I just wish I knew WHY!!!" you think, and the recruiter goes "they just decided to go with a different candidate." Which is the equivalent of saying "We didn't like who you are, so try to be someone different." This is why everyone lies when hunting for a job. That's what they teach you to do!

So my self-worth was taking a major hit as summer gave way to fall. But lo and behold some rando headhunter reaches out and puts me in touch with a well-known Milwaukee company, and they like me, they really like me! They gave me an offer, which was substantially less than I was making before. So being the savvy negotiator I am, I went back and said "I think I'm worth $10k more than this!" And they said "No." And I said "Great! When do I start?"

Things were finally turning around.

And four days into the new job, I woke up to a text from Rebecca. "My friend Katie wants to go out with you. Here's her number. She wants you to call her."

F*ck. Yes.

Oh that every morning should start out so sweet! I'm gainfully employed! A cute girl wants to hang out with me! Should I go buy a lotto ticket?!? I think I jumped up and clicked my heels together when getting out of bed. I didn't stop strutting for the next couple days.

And then the first date night came, and we ended up going out to play trivia at Three Lions Pub. Do I remember much of it? God no. I was just doing my best to say not anything too stupid. I don't think I impressed her with my trivia skills because I do remember that we didn't win. Probably because I couldn't stop staring into her eyes and missed half the questions (also, you can't beat a table of eight nerds at trivia with just two people). But what I do remember is a serious makeout sesh on the sidewalk after we left. Which led to another date, and another, and another. Until one day you look up and you live together and have a life together and have found real, lasting love. After that night, I never wanted to be with anyone else.

And if I had never gotten fired, I might not have been around the night Rebecca sent me that text to meet her and Katie at Vitucci's. So I send thank yous out into the universe: to Finney for having that name, to the unknown meeting participant who complained about me, and to my backstabbing coworkers who sold me out at a moment's notice.

Best thing that ever happened to me.