I sat in the meeting yesterday, hearing the words, but not comprehending.

I was dubbed a “floater.” In normal circumstances, this would be welcome. Floating from assignment to assignment, meeting different people, learning new things. Not so much in this case.

Today, Thursday, we were to lay off about 200 Headquarter’s employees. In this particular instance, “floater” meant powering off the employees’ work stations, bringing them boxes, helping them pack, then escorting them out of the building.

I awoke early, unable to sleep. I dressed more professionally than usual. I wore more makeup than usual, which unfortuantely didn’t hide the pallor of my stressed face. With each employee, I introduced myself and explained why I was there. As crappy as I felt, I knew they felt worse. The severance packages were generous; the way the lay offs were handled was as good as could be. And yet.

And yet I still felt horrible. Still feel horrible.

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