Fred

O and I went out for dinner last night. I wanted to do something special to mark the occasion that I was not unemployed.

In April, a company-wide email announced a “reduction in workforce” that would be completed before the end of the fiscal year, June 30. Dozens of qualifying employees were offered early retirement packages. My boss was one of them; he took it.

Nine years ago, I was temping at an office that didn’t need me. I sat for hours a day minding the desk of a woman never in town, whose phone rarely rang. After several days of being paid to appreciate the close-up view of the Chrysler building across the street from where I sat, I called my agency and told them I would go stir crazy if I held this gig much longer. Soon enough, I was walking into an interview with the best boss I’ve ever had.

His office was filled from floor to ceiling with memorabilia of his life in music. Framed photos lined every shelf and all the walls. As I sat down in front of him, he said without looking up from my resume, “It’s between you and one other person, and I’m leaning towards you.” He asked me where I’d grown up. When I mentioned Rome, his eyes lit up. When was I there, he asked. As it happened, while I had been going to pre-school in my pint-sized burgundy blazer and gray skirt uniform, he had been hosting a radio show from the station he owned a few miles away. In 1976, he had been the host of the July 4th bicentennial celebration for ex-pats at the American School of Rome. My family had been there. I sat before this man whose life’s path had intersected with mine almost thirty years earlier. And here we were, again.

I got the job.

It was supposed to be a temporary assignment but three months later, I accepted a permanent position. I told myself it was for the salary, the health insurance. Just until my acting career got off the ground, I said. My boss wanted to promote me. I resisted, for fear of additional responsibility. We argued about it. At one point, he yelled, “let me give you more money!!!” to which I yelled back, “I don’t want it!!!” I got the promotion and the raise that came with it. I quit acting. He put me through a Professional Skills Certification course. I got married. Despite his having had heart surgery five days prior, his was the first face I saw as we approached the venue. He was waiting at the entrance, his camera ready.

The man who became a father figure, my mentor and a friend was now leaving, and suddenly the job I never meant to have was now the job I needed.

I found out on June 28 that my name was not on the list for the chopping block.
The next day, I walked with my boss as he headed out of the office. Bereft of the company ID no longer affixed to his shirt pocket, he stepped into the elevator, rolling his suitcase filled with the last personal contents of his desk drawers.

Our paths have crossed twice already. If it happens once more, I’ll be the luckier for it.