Our youngest is diabetic, diagnosed just after she turned 10. She’ll be 20 a week from tomorrow — yup, Christmas Eve. This has been her burden for half her life. She spent two nights inpatient this week with complications, and came home last night. She missed two days of work because of it. I brought her to work this morning. I was still in the parking lot returning a phone call when she comes back out in tears.
She lost her job because a text to her boss didn’t get received. She was in the 90 days probationary period, and they have zero tolerance for no call/no shows. Her boss said they consider it a “voluntary resignation” and had to send her home. There is nothing they can do as it’s a strict policy.
I get that. But I am equally mad at her and mad for her, because she didn’t double check her message was received, and because this blasted disease cost her a good job. I was never a helicopter parent with our other two, but I am when it comes her and her diabetes. I want to go in there, give them a serious what-for and severe tongue lashing, but I can’t. She’s an adult, and this is a very hard pill to swallow. And it sucks! I can not fix this, and I can not fix her; as her mother I feel helpless and I hate it.
The old adage “when life hands you lemons, make lemonade” sucks, especially when the lemon squirts you in the eye.
I had a job that I really liked, and was actually pretty good at — until today. “Had” being the optimal word. I got sacked, down-sized, budget-cut, let go. All lemonade-y words for “fired.” I have to confess I was not perfect and had a couple of polite reminders from my supervisors about protocol, do’s and don’ts but nothing that I would think could put my job in jeopardy and most of us get those when starting something completely new. The budget for my division has been under strict scrutiny since the end of a campaign in early January which began in early November. The company devoted thousands of man-hours to this and it will not result in profitable revenue in the end. As a result all employees’ time sheets were being watched for any overages. Two weeks ago I put in 30 minutes of extra time, and last week 15 minutes extra wrapping up some details. I got a call today saying with the budget as tight as it is these two events have put me past the “she’s doing okay” into “Danger!” and that was that.
I could stand and scream about the injustice and unfairness of it all. But I’m really just too dumbfounded and numb to react; and a little bit mad. I really loved working with and for this company. I really was good at what I did.
Part of me wants to curl up in a corner and cry, feeling sorry for my pathetic self and ponder the answer-less question “What’s wrong with me?” The cheerfully optimistic lemonade makers would immediately chime in with nothing. The lemon-in-the-eye squeezers are full of self-doubt and condemnation. I’m waffling somewhere between the two tonight.
My husband suggested I take the time to write the next great American novel. Bless his heart.