Job in a Box

Along with some significant moral support, I cleaned out my office on Saturday.

Of course, I am still employed, although on medical leave, but being "casual" means essentially that I don't have a permanent position. It means that I can be called to work when other people are on vacation, or if there is too much work to do for the regular staff and they need help covering, etc. It doesn't mean that I have an office or a desk of my own or that I am actually considered part of the staff or the "team" as hospices like to call it.

It was a pitching extravaganza as I went through files that don't need to be saved. The meaningful art on the wall was taken down (including an "office fairy" that Liz painted for me and a cross stitched piece that a family member made for me after their son died); all of the quotes and cards and funny things I had posted came down and put into the box. I saved a few things that I would need if I ever do have the opportunity to do my job again --resources and phone numbers and things like that-- but it looks like that isn't likely to happen. My position is posted and word has it that it may already have been offered to a brand new person who starts today. The coworkers who made a sound proposal to cover the position for the next six months were informed last week that their offer was declined.

In the past I've done this office cleaning process but always because I had chosen and been hired for a new, better job. This time, it feels so much more sad and poignant. I loved this job, even with all of its stress and craziness. This job fit all of my best skills. I knew I was helping people with each and every contact I had.

This is a huge loss for me.