then we came to the end: a true story

For our next discussion, my book group is reading the critically acclaimed Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris—winner of a Hemingway/PEN Award and a National Book Award finalist. This is how the publisher (Little, Brown) pitches the book:

This wickedly funny, big-hearted novel about life in the office signals the arrival of a gloriously talented new writer.

The characters in Then We Came to the End cope with a business downturn in the time-honored way: through gossip, secret romance, elaborate pranks, and increasingly frequent coffee breaks. By day they compete for the best office furniture left behind and try to make sense of the mysterious pro-bono ad campaign that is their only remaining "work."

For reasons that will become obvious, I have been completely unable to crack the spine. Here is my true story:

Over the past six weeks, I have been toiling at work under the duress of uncertainty. If you've been following along, feel free to skip this excerpt from February 29:

Our parent company no longer wants us. They’ve never been able to make us fit in their mix, even though the synergy is obvious. Move's fault, not ours. Since before calendar year 2007 ended, the Home Office has planned to sell us. A deal was nearly completed, too, and was meant to have been announced at our company lunch. Done deal. Here's your new owner. Instead we have a long lead time in which to fret about who might buy us, will we all have jobs, what if no one wants to buy us, and so on. The Home Office's goal is to have us spun off by the end of second quarter, which is a little over three month from now.

A new owner could be good. We could have a budget for a new database as we move toward database publishing. We could have a budget for freelancers so I could assign someone else to write articles. We could fire unproductive employees (no names necessary).

Even before this announcement, I had decided to put myself back on the market. I’d like to be better compensated for my work and have a little more authority. It’s time. I’ll be exploring this move further here in weeks to come as I’m thinking it may finally be time to work in a different industry. Yes, publishing is and will always be my first love but I do have other interests.

For weeks, gossip consumed my coworkers' every working moment. One rumor had a group of designers vying for the deal; another rumor identified a former Homeplans' VP—backed by an investment group comprised of past owners and (possibly) a current employee—who wanted back into the business. We ran every possible scenario of how these deals could work out, and invariably they concluded in the same way: we each had a 50/50 chance of keeping our jobs.

As the weeks progressed, with nothing but conjecture to mislead us, it became increasingly more difficult to stay focused on work, the outcome of which may not even matter. New rumors that a deal was close started circulating last Friday. This past Monday we heard murmurs that an announcement would be made on Wednesday. On Tuesday I used my final sick day to get myself in a good place. I enjoyed an overpriced massage at Juut on Grand, after which I checked my work e-mail to find a flurry of coworkers exchanging personal e-mail addresses. With promises of staying in touch and getting together over the summer, it felt like the last day of high school.

On Wednesday—yesterday—the office was abuzz with word that there would be a meeting at 10 a.m. And by 10:45, The Skipper announced that the sale was complete. Hurrah! The new owners, in order to afford the acquisition, however, had to lay off pretty much everyone (eight lucky [?] employees are staying on to run an incredibly stripped-down company).

Yes, I joked about losing my job, but I really didn't expect it would happen. Of course, letting everyone go is the only scenario that could work. In addition to publishing shelter magazines, Homeplans sells blueprints to peeps who are building new homes. If you've read the news over the past two years, you know that housing starts (privately owned homes under construction) are dropping dramatically daily. It does follow, then, that Homeplans' business has dropped dramatically, too.

I don't know how the new owner—the former VP—plans to rebuild, let alone keep the company afloat in this economy. But more power to him, and them.

I loved my job as a magazine editor. While holed up in hotel rooms through the '90s on business trips, reading shelter magazines, like House Beautiful and Martha Stewart Living and Home and Garden, I dreamed about becoming a magazine editor. It was a pipe dream—I wasn't a writer, or so I thought. My journey to magazine editor was quite accidental, and I do realize my good fortune. I will be looking for another job as an editor, but will expand my search to book editing as well. I'm also going to explore one of my passions—food—by lining up some freelance food writing.

As I told Winston last night, as he gave me a hugely comforting hug and condolences, "onward and upward." Rather Mary Poppins-ish, I agree, but I'm a little overdue for a bigger and better job company. While I don't relish the job search—who does?—I am truly looking forward to a new work adventure.

In the meantime, while I'm enjoying my big fat severance (she says sarcastically) and the benefits of an unemployment check, I will be whipping our home into shape. I have robust plans to toss and organize the detritus of our busy lives.

This gift of time allows me to reconnect with friends, and I consider myself most lucky for that!