At Least They're Committed

Tiptoeing through the twisted, wind-felled branches toward the barnwood coop, I stop short. There’s a black mass laying in the backyard. Another dead rat? No, no, no! Not up for that this early — or ever to be honest — especially when it’s this dark.

Gray and white, Max’s wagging tail disappears into the darkness. He has no circadian clock. The chickens would gladly be up with the sun and not before. But Max promptly awakens me at 5:26 a.m. e.v.e.r.y.d.a.y despite the pervasive darkness that lingers more as autumn nears.

Phew, it’s only a clot of leaves, not a dead rat.

I suppose Max’s system works out well: I rouse the chickens by feeding and watering them and providing an offering to the egg-gods (today it was stale bread) while the dog does his doo-diligence. I then pick my way back inside, feed Max, grab some pre-percolated coffee and hop online to work by 5:45 a.m. Pretty damn proud of myself for being a morning person. Who’d have thunk it?

How long until you suppose ‘thunking’ will be added to the AP Stylebook? Hmmmm.

As explained to me, thunking is those few moments when your thinking is done and you’ve created a prompt as artificial intelligence is composing your content. This makes it easy to then edit the copy into your voice or that of your brand and get it posted in minutes vs. hours or days.

Ah, I love AI! (I’m not using it for my blog, however.)

A great number of writing and marketing professionals are losing their shit because they’re fearful of being replaced by automation. And they should be. Let’s face it, there are a lot of people trapped in the past, relying solely on their talents and “years of experience” to create, let’s say, web content, scripts, speeches, newsletters or . . . you get the picture. They are individuals who are resistant to progressive points of view and cleave to the tried and true. (Hey, that rhymed!) Trust me, we journalists have been grief-stricken as newspapers continue to falter and the talented, aging staff members are left with few employment options.

The moral is: KEEP UP!

Be it known, I love rats. I hate killing rats but they do tend to take over yards and dig tunnels and create rat kings under your sunroom then die and permeate the air with a lasting stench like no other.

In that vein, it has been nearly six months since I was laid off from a position I held for 19 years (well, the first 7 years were good, but still), likely for doing the opposite of living in the past. Rather, I was trying to drag the institution, kicking and screaming, into the 20th Century (not even the 21st, mind you).

Eh, so what?

“I’m here with HR . . . and you’re out!” Well, OK then.

One might think I should care. I remember hearing that the last woman they’d axed had wailed and sobbed and called all of her contacts and begged them to use their perceived influence to get her reinstated. Didn’t work.

I’m no stranger to being treated shamefully by now-former employers.

The first time I was let go it was soon after I had moved to Denver and was working in retail. I was told I sucked at security. I later learned that — plot twist — it was my boss who had been stealing merchandise and then pointing a finger at me for not “keeping a closer eye on the store.” Shrug, I didn’t care by then because I’d moved onto something better.

At the time, however, I recall phoning my dad and tearfully telling him I’d been fired. He said, “Well, that happens sometimes. It wasn’t a good fit.” I proceeded to tell him that I was nearly 25 years old and I hadn’t accomplished anything in life! (Seems funny now, doesn’t it?) He said I was correct. I hadn’t gotten addicted to drugs, been arrested, spent time in jail, etc. . . .

That helped a lot, but it didn’t encompass all that I’ve learned in the 35 years since: It was simply one step in my evolution.

Fast forward a few years and I was fired from the mid-sized newspaper I was working at because “God” told the publisher I was evil. I’d already been contacted by recruiters by then, but it was still scary. Being a journalist (see above) affords you limited career options — especially close to home. We had to pack up our two young children and move to a very small town where I encountered my first career bias for being a woman (before joining the job I just lost, that is).

The next year wasn’t fun, but I learned a lot and helped a BUNCH people so that’s what matters and I’m now freakin’ proud of it. At the time I was enraged and depressed that God would let these messianic men get away with treating people in such a way. A woman I respected said to me, “In God’s time, not ours.” And, whoa, was she right! Thanks Edith!

No matter. Soon we were back in Denver and I was back at the major metro daily that I loved. Sadly, I was going nowhere there. Yet, although I called it my one unrequited love it really wasn’t because there I met and have kept many of my best friends.

I accepted the 19+-year job and took a pay-cut to spend more time with my children. I’d hoped to prove myself and go back to the paper someday and work friendlier hours, but it was closed down five years later (I mentioned it on here when it happened).

Nearly two decades later, here I am! Did I panic when I was laid off this round? Heavens no. Was I insulted that they had evidently locked me out of the system a day before they told me I was gone? Ha! On the contrary, I was flattered. What must they have thought I was capable of doing in revenge? It tickles the imagination.

I then briefly worked at a spot I wanted to work at, until my feet got so bad I had to leave. Plus, the place I’d been working part time the past 15 years offered a work-from-home position full time. Score!

Now I get to explore AI!

Thus has been my evolution. The reason why I wanted to share this — I know I’ve touched on all of this before — is it lends credence to the knowledge that God has a plan for everyone if they are open to it and have a little — or sometimes a lot — of tenacity and faith.

I’m where I want to be and meant to be for right now and I’m learning so many waaaaay cool new things with a team of every-aged, diverse, forward-thinkers — no living in the past nor sexism nor agism involved whatsoooooever.

Maybe I’ll stay here for the rest of my life. Maybe that’s not God’s plan. And rats, maybe I’ll die tomorrow. But who cares? Life is not a permanent state of being. If done right, it’s a continuous adventure, a mission, an evolution. . . . Definitely worth thunking about.