What's bothering me?

I have a lunch interview tomorrow. I was specifically told to dress business casual and NOT wear a suit. While I'm wandering the aisles of the local department store contemplating what exactly defines the perfect business casual interview ensemble, a thought kept cropping up in the back of my mind. Something about buying new clothes that I really didn't want to buy was bothering me, but why? I began my root cause analysis (fighting the urge to start laying out hosiery and accessories in Ishikawa formation) and it all started coming together.

I'm not bitter about losing my job. I can't be. A week before it happened, I sent a note to the consultant making decisions and told him everything. I told him it didn't make sense to have a manager of a function that couldn't be funded and that my staff had skills that could add significant value to other functions in the department. It seemed the right thing to do. For the past few weeks my staff had sent me notes of encouragement while I traveled back and forth and told me when I returned how grateful they were because they knew that I would fight for them and do whatever it takes. They were right. I remember the night I decided to back out. I was in tears. My husband feared I was committing career suicide. As far as I was concerned, another situation at work not related to these changes meant the end of my career anyway and I had a responsibility to ensure the success of those I had hired. I had suffered months of an unexplained skin problem, spikes in my blood pressure, blurred vision, insomnia. My Dr's prescription was to quit my job.

When my boss left, I thought that would be good enough but my Dr. insisted I get out of that company. And he was right, I was in the middle of a situation I couldn't control and I couldn't talk about. A highly respected man who promoted me time and time again over the years was gone. Everyone around me mourned, criticized the decisions of the leaders and got angry. Every day I had to lie and hide the emotional injuries he caused, and pretend I believed it was unjust when in fact I was left having to justify the authority he had given me after his actions toward me were exposed. I was angry and I could feel myself losing my edge. At the same time I lost my MBA sponsorship, I was sent to a psychologist for evaluation with respect to my physical symptoms and in a supposed reduced capacity state, the Dr. told me he'd never seen performance scores as high as mine. I suppose there is less social stigma associated with admitting you saw a shrink when his prognosis is that you shouldn't be able to function in your current situation yet your performance is exceptional. Nonetheless, an IQ score doesn't have the impact that a master's degree has on your resume and I'm back to being angry. I received reimbursement for my medical bills, but I doubt I'll ever recover from the financial loss that will result from the time I could've been working on an advanced degree being instead devoted to trips around world in hopes that some exotic location will eventually persuade me to give in to my nonexistent animal attraction for my pursuer.

But when it came to my job, I loved the work I did. I prided myself on the incredible team I had working for me. I performed at my best when given a challenge and a tight deadline. But, I lost credibility and the only person with the political finesse to make a case for my team had not only left, but by this time had a police complaint filed against him. So, I wrote my letter, sang the praises of my staff, sang the praises of my peer who was an unknowing victim of this all, organized all my files so that my staff would be able to find what they needed, collected a pile of empty boxes and did what I could to get things done during the week that preceded my notice of termination.

My friends found it strange that I would take the time to clean and organize things. Why do this for a company that's going to let you go after nine years? Because I cared about the people that would be staying and wanted them to be successful. I guess that was the one thing that helped me stay sane. I had no control over what happened, I could only control my reaction to it and these people were my friends, my support, my team. I always assumed that if anyone else was let go, we would meet for coffee and continue to support and encourage each other through our searches.

Bingo. That's what's bothering me. My department was cut in half that day, split right down the middle by salary. It was the last thing I expected. I did all this work, poured out my heart and soul for an outcome that appeared to be nothing more than a hasty math problem. Then came the biggest blow of all... the foundation that I thought I was fighting for crumbled.

The people who I thought I had built a relationship with and who I sacrificed for will not even talk to me. I have prayed for their comfort, worried for their well being and today, two months to the day after I left, I am angry. One's spouse said she feels manipulated, lied to and used. One won't respond at all, not even to a simple "do you want to keep in touch?" email. Friends say, "Why do you even care what they think of you?" I guess my disappointment is in what I thought we had built. In the fact that I have not been given the opportunity to defend whatever wrong I am accused of. And, in the glaring reality that the individuals I thought were worthy of more than just my personal and professional respect lacked the substance of character that had I believed was there. I thought we shared a common vision, but I learned that all we shared was a common signature stamp on our paychecks. I thought we shared the same values, not just professionally, but personally, but now I feel my values were only useful if it was to their gain.

Yes, I'm angry. Like any loss, the loss of a job is followed by a grieving process of which anger is normal part of. But one would hope reason would override... we all experienced the same thing. Yes, we all had different personal challenges that made the impact to us unique, but we will all recover. The good news is that I will recover a little bit wiser. But, I will also recover with a little hole in the fabric of my faith in humankind.