I lost my job a month ago today. It was a casual meeting. I didn't expect that the first words spoken would be "we've got to let you go." It was a quick exodus from the office and a sad walk home.
Panic, anger, frustration, betrayal, sadness, humiliation - all of these emotions I felt at once in a reoccurring cycle for the next few weeks. What were we going to do? We have this debt. We have this life. How can we pay for this? How will we eat?
For the last few years we’d become a safer bet, building our credit and faithfully paying our debt. We could buy. We could do whatever we wanted, within reason of course. We didn’t want for much. I wouldn’t say we were extravagant, greedy, or wasteful, but we generally had what we wanted. We were comfortable, warm, and full. We saw a few amazing places, and bought a few nice things. Whatever it was, though, generally we could…but for a price – an increase on the school loan, or a bit more on the credit card. Still, we could.
After getting laid off we couldn’t. We had to rely on the provisions we’d stored, the few real goods we had. There was some food in the pantry soon to be eaten, a little money in the bank soon to be siphoned, clothes in the closet soon to be worn, and our collection of wine in the pantry. Not expensive or fancy wine, but bottles filled with memories. We’d been saving that wine for special occasions and future celebrations. It was intended to be a living memory of the amazing places we’d seen and good days we’d had. We had this collection and could no longer afford to add to it. In one way, in one very real and enjoyable way, we could.
We work, and we work, and we work. We hear the stories of those people who worked their entire lives, dreaming of their retirement, saving for the sailboat they’d sail around the world when retired, and then dying of cancer two months after retirement, gold watch on the dead wrist in the buried coffin. I was working towards that goal – to save and build my collection, to watch it grow and age – all the while the wine becoming vinegar in the bottle.
I appreciate what I really have, not the futures, not what I wish I had or assume I will have.
