Part of me feels relief, as I do every time a job ends. Oh, and have jobs ended for me! I have been dubbed "the cooler" by my funny-sometimes-smartass husband because several companies have closed while I was working for them. Three, in fact. Three companies have gone under while I was in their employ. We've discussed the many possibilities of me taking on larger corporations, such as Wal-Mart, Starbucks, or McDonald's, to see if I might single-handedly bring back small-town America.
What it all boils down to, though, is that I am just not made for corporate America. And it certainly doesn't like me, either. I was a silly little school girl, training to be an opera singer, and never planned for a back-up career. I don't know if there are lessons on how to survive in corporate environments; if there are, I would have skipped them anyway. Damn the man, and all that stuff.
Sometimes, though, I can't help but wish that I had that particular bone in my body. Whatever the "can survive corporate environment without plucking out eyeballs" bone is called, I don't have it. I never will. For my own sanity, I should probably stop trying to force the issue. Whatever company I would have worked for should thank me. They'll live to see another day.