Over the years I’ve left a number of jobs…this isn’t particularly remarkable for my generation, I am of that age that has a “have undergraduate degree, will travel” mentality and also the first generation since Steinbeck to experience corporate management loyalty at it grasping, bottom-line, the stock-holders before gold watch best…
In all the current fuss and bother about depression vs recession, it’s forgotten that those of us in our 50’s remember trying to find work or hold on to it during the 80’s and 90’s when the first great recession hit. The George Clooney movie about the corporate downsizer, “Up in the Air” doesn’t give the history of all those techniques he uses. They were pioneered back at the (gee this sounds weird to say it but here goes) turn of the century when whole industries were shut down in North America and opened up in the Philipines or Korea or Mexico or China or Indonesia or, well, you get the picture. Not sure what I mean, kiddies? just google “Globalization” and you’ll see how Michael Moore got his start in the world.
Anyway, long story short, I’ve had a few jobs and left in a variety of circumstances, almost all voluntary and usually with a handshake. Once I was removed involuntarily by men in uniform from a provincial Minister’s office (Advanced Education and Job Training, I think but it changed names three times while I was there and has been split, absorbed and reconfigured many times since then). It was an ambulance crew, I was 7 months pregnant and had started hemorrhaging at work. Needless to say I was glad to see them.
Thanks to the timely arrival of the crew–although those were the longest 5 minutes in the lives of the entire office, from the “is there something wrong dear?” to the siren rounding the corner–and the timing of a scheduled c-section in the neo-natal surgical room as my ambulance pulled up, what is usually a very tragic story became one of celebration.
While you’re googling Globablization, children, look up “abruption”; here’s a quote to whet your appetite “Women may present with vaginal bleeding, abdominal or back pain, abnormal or premature contractions, fetal distress or death.” Yes, one of those things where a symptom is death.
15 years later, in another city, a fire rescue crew answered our 911 call when that same sugar plum went into insulin shock.
Whenever there is a discussion on taxes and how much we have to pay at the gas pump, at the grocery store and every spring to the federal government, I think about the road that ambulance took. I think about the hospital and the on-call doctor. I think about my daughter turning 19 and being able to go out drinking. Taxes don’t cover some costs, you know.
That’s why whenever I’m in line at the local coffee house and an ambulance driver or police officer or fire (wo) man is at the till I go up, hand the clerk my debit card or a$20 bill and say “this one is on me”. If the uniform is behind me, I let the clerk know I’m paying for whatever they’re having.
It’s a matter of paying debts.
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