It really is a small world after all

So I walk into Conagliatelli's for my date with Laurel last night, and she's sitting there in the booth Drew and I always pick, grinning at me like she has a secret she can't hold in for another second. Before I even get my coat off, she says, "Your mom wants you to call her." I'd never noticed her dimples before, but they were impossible to miss with her cheeks so swollen in that smile.

I was racking my brain for any relevant conversation we might have had last Friday. All I could think of was how I told her never knew what to get Janice for Christmas and always wound up at the liquor store on Christmas Eve, which Laurel found ironic since I don't drink. But there hadn't been any mention of calling her, or her calling me, or anything else that would account for the 100-watt grin I was enduring.

Next she points to her teeth, smiling even more exaggeratedly so I can get a good look at how shiny they are. I'm still mystified. Finally she says, "I just had my annual cleaning."

Janice is her dental hygienist. And has been since Laurel was about 16. She's been hearing stories about me, every six months, for the last 12 years. Some of which do not match up to my recollection of what actually happened. Like apparently Janice told her I wanted to move to Cuba and become a communist after college.

Finding hope among the Unlucky 7

Today was my last day at McGlothlin-Zilch. Yes, that's the real actual name of the company I've been employed by for the last eight years and four months. I no longer fear getting fired for identifying it, as I've already been kicked to the curb. The separation agreement I signed prohibits me from "disparaging or holding up to ridicule the name of the Company, its current and former officers, agents, and employees." Reporting that I was laid off does not violate that clause. (Also, I don't think making fun of the name "Zilch" is what they mean by "holding up to ridicule," but since I'm not a lawyer, I'll let you make up your own Zilch jokes and I'll leave that one alone. Though don't imagine for a minute that you'll hit on any my co-workers haven't already shared.)

And share they did this afternoon. All afternoon. We were walked out, one by one (there are only two security officers in our building and one had to man the front desk), starting at 10:30. Which would have been a long time already to sit around doing nothing if I had arrived at 8:30 like usual, but my boss (a true humanitarian, and I don't mean that in any sarcastic, severance-agreement-defying way) told us all to not bother coming in until 10:00.

So one-by-one the Unlucky 7 were debriefed in the most perfunctory and pointless of exit interviews (actual question: "Would you recommend McGlothlin-Zilch as an employer to a friend?") then relieved of our employee ID badges and marched to the front door. One-by-one we gathered in the Four Norsemen down the street. Sunil and Courtney got there first. I was third. The others trickled in as I nursed my ginger ale. I was the only non-drinker, which is why I never made a habit out of joining them on post-work outings. I do go to bars, but usually to see a band or for some other specific reason.

Ten ways to run out the clock after you've been laid off

If you've ever had problems getting motivated at work, try doing it after you've been laid off. Seven more days of this. I'm not alone, either. I can see it in the other "choppeds," as we refer to ourselves. Or "The Unlucky 7." That's literally half the team in the Seattle office that do what I do. What I did. I'm not doing it anymore, not even for the next seven days. Let the Mumbai crew get used to it. They'll be the ones taking on our work. For pennies on the dollar.

While I'm showing up and counting down the days/hours/minutes, here are some things I've been doing to keep occupied.

1. Scrubbing my personal data from my work computer. Any document, email, downloaded file, you name it, that I've saved over the past eight years is being reviewed and removed. Anything worth keeping goes onto a thumb drive. Most of it's not worth the space. Man, it's amazing how much crap you save on the off chance you might ever want to look at it again.

2. Shredding. Same general principle as scrubbing the hard drive, only you can physically see the progress. Our company has shredders in every printer alcove, which are meant for business sensitive information to be destroyed. I've found it's also an effective way to get rid of anything that might be incriminating or embarrassing, like cartoons I may have drawn of former co-workers and the Bullshit Bingo scoresheets this guy Benj and I used to mark up during team meetings. No sense taking the chance on someone mining that gold out of the recycle bin.

Slashed by the corporate reaper

If you think Halloween is scary, you should experience November in Corporate America. No treats, but plenty of tricks, all played on the employees. The cruelest part is you don't even see the Grim Reaper coming, because they're never wearing a hooded cloak or carrying a sickle. Just a wool blazer and a laptop.

The first sign is the hastily announced, mandatory staff meeting. When you get invited to an all-hands meeting that begins within the next half hour, rest assured, someone's getting laid off. Multiple someones, most likely. I was caught offguard the first time, four years ago. I thought something had happened to my boss's husband, because he'd been in the hospital the week before and she seemed suddenly so upset. He was fine. Four of my co-workers, not so much. That one came the week before Thanksgiving. Very festive. Every year since, the meetings have crept closer and closer to the start of the month. Almost like they never want us to be too sure when gallows-humor season officially opens.

This year's opened today. We got the meeting invite at 9:06. By 9:30, we were all gathered in the large conference room wondering who the unlucky bastards would be this time around. Things kicked off per usual, with a video presentation from our CEO Ed Slauss, or Slash, as we call him. From his cushy office in the Kansas City HQ, he small-talked us about all the trick-or-treaters they had in his neighborhood last night, how many Fortnite characters and Star Wars costumes he saw. Just a regular guy, connecting at the human level, like they taught in MBA school.