Game On!

Once it became apparent to the high ups that my staying for the transition was not a sure thing, the panic set it. For some reason, they never considered that I might not stay, which is very dumb on their part. I mean, hello, I’d worked there for 10 years, how could they not know that I would have a problem with this? I’m probably the most upfront person there is when it comes to what I think.

So, first the Boss started grilling me. “You’re going to stay, right? We’re counting on you to help with the transition.” I played it coy and never committed one way or the other. Well, that bugged him and since he couldn’t get an answer out of me, he sent Queen Bee down to do some investigating. Same thing from her, “You’re going to stay, right?” Again, I didn’t give an answer. She then started apologizing and saying how sorry she was that she had to lay me off. Queen Bee and I go way back. She was part of the interview team that hired me back in 1999 and we had shared many good times over the years. I considered her a friend outside of work, but at work, I didn’t trust her. At all.

Once Queen Bee realized that I wasn’t going to commit to anything, she left my office. Not even 5 minutes later, the VP arrived at my office. Wow, they’re really bringing out the big guns, I thought to myself. She asked me the dreaded “How are you doing with all of this?” question. Well, if you ask me a question, be prepared for the answer, as I’m not shy about sharing my opinion. I looked her in the eye and said “You know, losing my job doesn’t bother me that much. It’s pretty unlikely that you can go your entire career without losing your job at least once. What bothers me is that you’re sending my job to India. I can’t believe that in this economy, during these times, you would make a decision to send jobs out of America. I have a real problem with that.” Stunned silence.

“Well, it wasn’t an easy decision,” she muttered.

“Yes, but you still made the decision,” I replied.

“Are you going to stay and help with the transition?” she asked, with a panic stricken look on her face.

“I’m honestly not sure yet. I have a lot to think about over the weekend and I need to run some numbers with my husband and decide what works best for me. I’m going to make the decision based on what works for me and my family.”

Point taken because she followed up with “What does your husband do for a living?’

Are you serious?! “Why does that matter?” She didn’t answer. Clearly why that mattered is because she couldn’t fathom anyone walking away from a paycheck, so she wanted to know what kind of money the Husband made. If I had been thinking quickly, I would have responded with “He’s an employment attorney.”

And then she left.

What should I do? Well, after a little investigating, I now knew the following things to be fact:

1. I was getting severance and the amount was set in stone.
2. It didn’t matter if I walked out today or 6 weeks from today, I was still getting severance.
3. I didn’t have to give any notice, my last day was up to me.
4. If I stayed until the end of the transition, I would receive a one-time stay bonus. The amount was insulting, so it was really a non-factor.
5. Thanksgiving was a week away at this point and if I stayed for the “India Project” my holidays would be ruined. That was a given. I would be working like a slave for the next 3 months if I committed to it.

If there was a right thing to do, it wasn’t immediately obvious. Based on my principles and integrity, the right thing for my peace of mind was as obvious as a Sunset Strip hooker. But, the bigger picture, like how would it affect my family if I walked away and what it would mean for my career, was harder to predict. I agonized for two full weeks. I kept thinking that they needed me way more than I needed them, as evidenced by the parade of fools marching down to my office and the constant pestering about what I was going to do. The really, really dumb thing on their part was the fact that no one else in the building knew how to do my job. I was the last one standing, the lone Production warrior. So, without me, their transition would be months of pure hell without a tour guide. You would think that this fact might have come up at some point, but apparently it hadn't. There was no Plan B.

Prison Media never failed to amaze me with their large egos and outright stupidity and I soon realized that if it came down to right and wrong, they were never wrong. Or, more accurately, they could never admit they were wrong. So, when I decided to ask for a larger stay bonus, the poker game was on and the fun officially began…