Thursday, July 31, 2008

I hear the talking of the DJ/can't understand just what does [s]he say

Blogging from 6 North again today. Steve and I, armed and ready for laptop assholery.

Today is a day of great news and not so good news. While I hate my good news being spoiled by the taint of bad news, I suppose I can't complain about the good news tempering the bad. Yin and yang? Whatever.

I can only be circumspect about the good news for now. Complete disclosure will be allowed in a couple of days. Let's just say the airwaves will no longer be Cat-free in the very near future. Details to come.

The bad news is vague, but troubling. While we haven't heard when our store is closing yet, Michael and I found out (in a very aggravating, offhand and casual way) that our store manager has been given a new store and will be moving there fairly soon. There are a few ramifications that seem inevitable: 1) we will have some sort of interim, part-time manager who may be really terrible; 2) we have basically been cut loose with no one to speak up for us (not that Michael and I were expecting much of that in our favor anyway); and 3) there is a closing date for our store and we just haven't been told yet. Of course, the one good thing is that we are a fairly cohesive (though admittedly sometimes dysfunctional) unit that can run the store pretty well without much managerial supervision and it might be nice to be autonomous for a bit, even if it means our demise is eminent.

Hearing the news last night was a blow. Michael and I ended up working alone for several hours last night and I went from a hyperactive giddiness (brought on by a happier earlier conversation before work) at the beginning of my shift, to a weepy wallowing for the last couple of hours. Michael was ready to throttle me, I think; annoyed by my moping and feeling helpless to make me better. A couple of drinks and some 80s videos (some great, some hideous) later at the Loading Zone and I was feeling a little less fatalistic. The thing is, I haven't let myself really wallow over this issue and I know it's a-coming. It's going to be bad. The question is if I'm going to be alone or if Michael is going to be the lucky recipient of my sobbing, red-faced self.

I have let the universe, as it were, plot my directions for most of my adult life. Not to say I have been shiftless and completely plan-free, but I have tended to take the paths that were presented to me by happenstance rather than doing any sort of thoughtful career or life planning. And honestly, it's worked out rather well as far as happiness and well-being goes. No, I do not have a nest egg to support me in my dotage, nor do I expect to ever have that. Yes, I have begun to have micro panic attacks about my old age (when does it become unseemly to sit cross-legged in a coffeehouse wearing a strapless sundress? 45? 50? 80?). But do I want to sacrifice the relative freedom I've felt from the corporate world and return there now (if anyone would even have me) for a bit of stability and regularity of schedule? I don't know. As usual, I'm going to let things play out and see what happens.

And I'm feeling the vague, albeit very faint stirrings, of my artistic creativity returning. That can only be a good thing.

I've also thrown out a drinking and dining invitation to Dana and Roy (and Michael) for Saturday night as I have the day off and I feel like cooking and socializing. We'll see what happens. Perhaps my creativity is being channeled only into food as of yet. That works for me.

No comments: