She knew about hanging out. The images of the past few months rolled through her mind. In spite of herself, she wore the same jeans and sweatshirt every day, her boss’s words haunting her, trying to see a positive in her termination. “You won’t need new clothes.”
But after 25 years in the same job, leaving had stirred up butterflies of anxiety. There was no time to clear out her desk of the files, folders, spare Tylenol and pantyhose, memories and rituals of office life. If you have a home office no one will see, do you still decorate it with knick knacks?
The Monday after her last Friday at work was the longest day of her life. She walked to Staples to return a computer component, to the library to return some books, sat in a coffee shop, and made some phone calls. Everything she did during the day would have fit into a work day, not been the whole day.
She had stared at the walls of her “home office”, engulfed by the quiet, hoping for an e-mail to pop up on her computer screen. At work it’s easy to complain about a chatty employee, some banging maintenance, an interruption. Working at home, you welcome it. She had her best conversation of the day with a woman on the sidewalk taking roofing estimates. The cold rain dripping down the window didn’t help; there should be a law that employees can only depart into spring sunshine.
Back when she was a kid at summer camp, she’d dreaded visiting day because that was when her parents and others would look her over to decide if she “looked well.” Leaving her job was the same. She felt under scrutiny, wanting to shout, “Leave me alone, I’m still me.”
She blinked back to the present as she realized that Andre and his cookies were still in front of her. And he was still talking. “Yes, hang out…When the weather’s bad, there’s lots of places to drop in. Once a week I go to the art studio, lunch, you know about – there’s turkey lunch for Christmas, sometimes I help out at Operation Come Home, or walk around the Market…”
She looked up at him as he chattered on. “Where to?” she asked, shuffling through the slush beside him.
He had a day that needed filling, and so did she. Before, she might have been a do-gooder. Now she didn’t know what she was. Just here. Being jobless is a lot like being homeless….
Tomorrow she would bring the cookies.
