What Would Oprah Do (2 page)

“You don’t hate your job. You have a shitty boss. You know as well as I do that it doesn’t matter what job you have, if your boss sucks, the job sucks.”

“I know, but it’s not just her. Seriously, I hate my job, the whole industry. I decided that on Monday and prayed for change.”

“You prayed? Since when do you pray?”
Jill’s head was cocked to the side so far that it’s easy to see why she goes to a chiropractor.

“Since two days ago. I don’t know why you think it’s weird; you’re the one who goes to church” I said.

“Exactly, I go to church, but you don’t even have a religion!”

“Just because I don’t have everything labeled, doesn’t mean I don’t have my own thing. Anyway, the other day I prayed for God to show me something else to do with my life, that I wanted to have a purpose and boom, today I get laid off. It’s a sign.”

“How is that a sign?” she asked.

“Well, what are the odds that on the rare occasion I pray, I ask for something very specific, and the process starts happening two days later?” Jill started peeling the label off her beer. “I’m just saying the God I can’t completely define, but fully believe in, wouldn’t set me up for failure. This has to be part of the plan somehow.”

I remembered the moment I had realized this on some level during the layoff meeting, when I almost felt relief. I had only cried because I was stunned and scared.

“Ok, so I guess it’s a good thing that you’re not falling apart…” she said.

“That may happen tomorrow. I don’t know, but if you think about it, you’re only born with two fears: loud noises and falling. Everything else you learn along the way. I can’t be scared of what I don’t know. It’s ridiculous. If you think about it, you never really know anything. And everything that you think of as security is just secure as far as you know. My future could be anything, and if I can rule out that my future won’t be a job that I dread and despise, there’s nothing to be upset about, just some details to sort through.”

Jill stared at my face. “Did you take Xanax or something?” she asked.

“I wish. I think the last beer helped, after the first two took the edge off. I don’t know. I think it’s time for me to do something else, and now I’m being forced to by circumstance.”

I started to get excited thinking about all the unknown possibilities. “Let’s celebrate change!”
I yelled. “Who knows? They didn’t lay off everybody, maybe a fourth of our office. Maybe yesterday I wasn’t included in that group, and today I was.”

Jill said, “If you want to celebrate, we’ll celebrate. You’re right. Who knows? Maybe you’re onto
something, but please don’t pray for change for me.” I laughed with an ease that I hadn’t felt in a long time. We stayed for hours, and by the time Kay got there, I was drunk. The drunker I got, the more I felt like celebrating, like a weight had been lifted. God had a plan, for me.

Dear Oprah,

I’m writing to you because you may be the only person who will understand that my being laid off last week is a good thing. You have said before that getting fired is a blessing because the universe is telling you to change course. I heard you tell how you were fired from your first anchor job. After that, you got an offer to have your own talk show. That worked out very well for you, you have your own network now! I feel like my future will be better too, even if on a smaller scale. I believe it. Unlike last year when I found out that my fiancé James was cheating on me. After a month I started telling people that I just felt grateful, like I’d dodged a bullet by finding out before I married him. Really I was alternating between drinking my dinner, and sitting on my kitchen floor, crying and eating saltines while “I Will Survive” was on continuous replay. This is totally different, and I know in my heart that this is the beginning of something great. Thank you for being a shining example of how ‘losing’ a job can be the way to gain your life.

Regards,

Cate

P.S. And to think, at one point you were upset that instead of you, Monica Kauffman got the anchor job in my home town, Atlanta.

I feel great. This morning I woke up without a hangover, despite all of my celebrating last night. I pushed the button on my coffee maker, since I am the last person alive who doesn’t have a timer on the coffee maker. Normally I stand there waiting for it to brew, because I can’t shower until I feel caffeine coursing through my veins. Today I took a shower while it brewed.

In the car I found myself laughing at the jokes on the radio morning show and singing along to every song. When I pulled into the parking lot, I texted Kay and Jill: “Thanks again for last night. No hangover, still celebrating change!”
I took the stairs, and as I opened the door to walk into the office, reminded myself that not everyone was going to be celebrating, and tried to contain my smile. I sat at my desk, and Rachel, on the other side of me whispered, “Cate, is that you?”

Smile containment gone. “Ye
s.” I answered.

“Want to go smoke? I mean I know you just got here, but…”

“Sure. Give me a few minutes to check my email.”

As I started up my computer my phone rang. It was Barbara, my bitch of a boss.

“Good morning Caa-aate,” She has a way of drawling out my name that’s so whiney. “Can you come down to my office for a few minutes?”

“I’ll be right there.”
I hung up and reminded myself that I only had a week left to put up with her shit. Barbara has hated me since the day I started. My boss from my last job is her boss. He recruited me here, and perhaps initially she resented not having a choice about hiring me, but in time it has only gotten worse. Every proposal of mine that she reviewed has been ripped to shreds, and every idea I have voiced in a meeting has been met with a look that I call her ‘Dirty Diaper Face’, a look of disgust most people can only muster if they actually smell shit.

When I walked into her office, Barbara eyed me up and down, her standard greeting, evaluating one’s outfit. She motioned for me to sit, and moved the box of Kleenex on her desk closer to my chair. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Surprised obviously, but good.” I managed a weak smile.

“Well I just wanted you to know that I had no idea that was going to happen. They got all the directors together late yesterday morning and told us that people were getting laid off. If I had gotten a say in this, I would have fought to keep you here. I shed a lot of tears last night.”

My annoyance waned. Barbara was human after all. “Thank you. It is what it is, and everything happens for a reason.” I shrugged.

“If I can do anything, and I mean anything, to help you, just let me know. I can write letters of reference, whatever you need.”

“I really appreciate that.”

“It’s just such a shock…” Her voice trailed as she twisted a Kleenex in her hand that was starting to fall apart. “I emailed you the project documentation form that they’re asking everyone to complete. Let’s meet this afternoon and map out next week.”

“Ok. Do you know who’s going to take over my account?”

Barbara sighed. “Well since Ashton & Steel is such a big client, and their program is so involved, there isn’t enough time to get someone else up to speed. I’m going to take it for now, since I’m already in the loop.”

“That definitely makes it easier for me. I figured I’d have to start at the beginning, training another manager.”

Barbara shook her head. “No, that would be too much. This just makes sense, especially since I’ve already met them. They’re one of our biggest accounts, and we need to minimize the impact our internal restructuring has on our clients. I just wanted to talk to you face to face this morning and tell you personally and professionally how sorry I am.”

“I really appreciate that. I’ll get started on the project documentation and see you this afternoon.”

When I got back to my desk, I checked my email. There wasn’t anything pressing. A minute later Rachel popped into my adjacent cube, cigarettes in hand. “You ready?” she asked.

“Let’s do it.” I said, unintentionally sounding like Tone Loc at the beginning of “Wild Thing.”

When we got outside, I gave her the recap on the ‘your position has been eliminated’ meeting. I’m sure we weren’t supposed to tell anyone the terms of our separation, but I trust Rachel. I’m really good about knowing who you can trust. I can tell you from looking at someone fifteen feet away if they would: try to steal your job, flirt with your boyfriend if you wouldn’t find out, or talk trash about you when you’re not around. This skill was developed in my early twenties, out of necessity after choosing more than a few really bad friends. I swear it’s like a sixth sense now.

“Two weeks’ severance? That’s all you got? Don’t they know that you left a job at Headlines to come here?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah, but they said it’s strictly on how long you were here, and I’m just at a year.”

“Cate, I’m sorry. That’s not right.”

“I’m really ok though. I’m kind of excited. This wasn’t the job for me.”

Rachel didn’t look convinced. “Could you go back to Headlines?”

“I doubt it. They were making budget cuts when I left, and they weren’t all that pleased when I came here. Besides, that wasn’t the job for me either. If it had been, I wouldn’t have left.”

She nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know…something else. Ever since I started working on Ashton & Steel, I guess it’s the subliminal
marketing, but I feel like I’ve officially sold my soul to the devil. Worse than that, I was cheap.”

“You’re good at your job. You shouldn’t feel bad about that.”

“You can say that because your job has a real function. You’re a graphic designer. Your work is tangible. You’d feel differently if you were secretly embedding images into your work. When I first started out, I was helping mom and pop businesses draw in customers. It barely paid the bills, but I felt good about it, you know? How the hell I ended up scheming with a retail giant is beyond me.”

“Girl, you
gotta give yourself a break. I hear what you’re saying, but companies like that are going to do what they’re going to do. If you aren’t doing that job, somebody else will.”

“I know, but I don’t even want to be a piece of that puzzle anymore. I don’t think I’m going to change the world or anything…unless I go on Oprah and tell their dirty secrets.”

Rachel laughed. “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind? Barbara would bbq your ass on a stick if she heard you say that!”

“Oh please, Barbara isn’t coming near the smoke hole. If she didn’t go around the front parking lot she couldn’t work her “Jag” into a conversation every day…”

I breezed through the rest of my work day and even got through my meeting with Barbara without the usual tension. For the first time ever, Barbara refrained from making snide comments about my appearance or
belongings. Usually she finds one thing to disparage at the start of a meeting. Like the time I brought in my new Kate Spade tote, which I had thought was perfect since my laptop fit in it, and it worked simultaneously as a purse. As soon as I walked into the conference room that day, Barbara had to say what an interesting “satchel” it was; emphasizing the word “satchel” like it was synonymous with trash bag. Then she went on and on about who would have thought to put a laptop in it, saying that most people would have thought of it as more of a diaper bag. I hated that I could never predict what part of me she would pick apart on any given day, leaving me too surprised to come up with any retort that would let me maintain some dignity. Instead I was always sitting there, with a feeble smiling deer in the headlights look, as I tried to change the subject from whatever she had honed in on.

Today was different. We went through the details of Ashton & Steel’s program without a single snarky comment. Barbara probably assumed I was devastated about losing my job, and it was less fun to kick me when I was that far down, but I decided to accept it as a gift. Maybe my last week at this job would be better than the last year.

When I left the office I resisted the urge to go to happy hour, knowing that I had to evaluate my finances and options for the future. Besides, there would be plenty of time for happy hours, which would no longer be filled with me bitching about my job. I just had to find my new direction.

I went home and started assessing my situation. I had saved enough to support myself for five months. It wasn’t enough to support my usual spending habits, but I could pare down. After all, my choices had only gotten fancy in the last year. Obviously I didn’t need the $48 Laura Mercier body scrub. I could switch to the $16 scrub at Bath & Body Works and cut back by two-thirds. This was going to be easy. I survived on a third of my current salary when I started my career, and I could do it again, especially since that seemed the amount my spending had increased. I could go through the cosmetic gifts with purchase that were sitting in my closet, instead of buying new products. I probably had enough samples to last six months.

I didn’t need to buy olive oil, spices and hand soap from Williams & Sonoma. The grocery store brands would do fine. I didn’t need to go out for drinks. I could invite friends over for drinks at my place, eliminating the enormous markup at restaurants and bars. I should thank my lucky stars I watched Suze Orman on Oprah last year, or I wouldn’t have nearly as much saved.

Suze
also talked about how to reduce your expenses. I’m sure she would die if she knew what I spend on my hair cuts and highlights, let alone styling products. At least I already make my own coffee at home, instead of spending fifteen bucks a week at Starbucks. I made a list of things I could cut back on. TiVo is a necessity, but I could go without HBO and Showtime. I obviously shouldn’t try to cut my own hair, and after the ‘orange incident’, I should leave highlights to the professionals too. But I could start doing my own manicures and pedicures. I could probably do my own bikini waxes too with a kit from the store. It can’t be that hard and now I’ll have more time. I’ll do yoga and the added flexibility will make it easier.

Evaluating my situation had only taken an hour. I had even made budget cuts! I was taking charge.

If only James, cheating sack of shit that he is, could see me now. Not even two hours after I walked in on him having sex with his boss, he scurried over to my place saying that he couldn’t help himself because he’d been seduced and overpowered by her ‘take charge attitude’. For the life of me, I still don’t know who he thought he was dealing with. I took charge that minute by throwing every piece of clothing he had in a drawer in my condo off the balcony. I also took charge of calling the hotel we had booked for our we
dding reception, explaining our
situation
to the kind coordinator and having her send me back the deposit he paid on his credit card.

For months after, I thought I would hate him as soon as the hurt was gone, but despite the occasional flashes of anger, now I mainly remember what it was like when it was good between us. It makes me sick that sometimes I still miss him. Since it’s too pathetic to admit, I don’t tell anyone. Especially since I would tell Jill and Kay, and unlike me, they both hate him now. So whenever this nostalgic feeling comes over me, I either force myself to picture how his boss’s legs were hanging over his shoulders when I walked in, or go out for drinks. Lately I have scarily numbed to the image, so the cocktail usually wins.

Justifying that it had only been a day since I got laid off and an hour since I came up with a financial plan, I decided that I could go out for drinks. After all, you don’t have to put a plan into action the second you come up with it. I called Kay and met her at her favorite new place, a wine bar which has a big deck with heat lamps where we can smoke. I love my sister for a million different reasons, but it’s always enough that without fail, seeing her face makes me feel better.

She was already on the deck when I got there. With blonde hair, blue eyes and at least three inches of height on me, most people wouldn’t believe we’re sisters if we didn’t have the same facial bone structure. “You got here fast!”
she said as she leaned over to hug me. “I ordered a bottle of merlot.”