Business was bad. Journalism, my industry, fades into the past and many positions fade with it. We saw a once busy newsroom on the edge all the time: Not about news of the day or the latest city hall scandal, but about our future.
Something brewed. There were lots of worried looks from senior managers and closed-doors meetings. When questioned, the supervisors promised something, "large and dramatic."
It didn't take a rocket scientist to read the writing on the wall. Like the rest of my colleagues, the older ones anyway, I tried to adapt to the new media landscape, pick up new skills and embrace change. Still we were all paralyzed with fear. This was all I did most of my adult life. It's all I know. It's all I want to do.
"Large and Dramatic," came soon enough. There were two meetings and we divided into groups. My group was relatively small with only about 20 people. I looked at my group and said to myself, "OK, I guess tomorrow I get to figure out what I'll do with the rest of my life."
A collective sigh of relief was heard as the editor leading our meeting told us we could relax, we weren't laid off the other group was. It wasn't a happy scene coming out of the other meeting.
Learning that I got to keep my job didn't relieve my stress much. We now got to do the same amount of work with one-third the people. The number of people I supervised in my department was cut in half.
The most unfortunate part of the whole situation; as much as I tried not to, I often brought this stress home to my beautiful wife Becca and daughter Brianna. I tried to be upbeat while at home and not burden them with this, but it didn't work. Becca knows me better then I know myself. Always supportive and wonderful she just let me know that she always loved me no matter what happened.
After that meeting I wasn't in a mood to finish out my normal 12 hour day. I made sure everything for the next days publication was done and left in the early evening. I don't even remember the drive home. I pulled into the driveway and plodded into the kitchen. Very conflicted, I was happy to still have my job but I felt a sad helpless survivor's guilt for the colleagues that I no longer worked with.
I don't drink often or much but I found a beer in the back of the refrigerator, opened it and took a long drink. The tingling felt soothing as it went down my throat and warmed my belly. Instinctively, I grabbed the remote and searched for the evening news as I sat silently at the table.
I was into the third deadly car bombing story when Becca came around the corner with a purpose in her step. In one hand she held Brianna's diaper bag and in the other a small suitcase. Great, I thought, this should be the perfect end to the worst day of my life. My wife is tired of the bad moods and professional drama and no longer wants marriage to an old white stressed out newspaper editor.
"What are you doing home so early?" Becca asked with caution. Just then two-year-old Brianna bounded around the corner, her red locks flying, as she jumped into my lap with a laugh and a grin. She hugged me and squealed in her high-pitched voice, "Daddy! "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, I'm going on an adventure!" Then I recalled: My wife wasn't leaving me; rather my mother was coming by to pick up Brianna for their once-a-month sleep-over at her place.
...and at just that time my mother pulled into the drive-way. I carried Brianna and her favorite blanket out to the car. Mother knew something was dreadfully wrong and gave me a warm supportive but concerned look. "I'll tell you about it later," I told her. With that she tucked Brianna into her car seat and headed out.
Becca choose to leave the journalism world when pregnant. She saw the writing on the wall and wanted to work but had enough of a dying profession. Only 36 she felt it was time for something else. She'd spend a few years of real quality time with Brianna and figure out what that was.
After the day I had, Becca and Brianna were exactly what I needed. I was still stressed but my day was now behind me. Still, while I love Brianna with all my heart, I was glad mother was going to keep her for a couple days.
Seated at the kitchen table Becca came to me and stood behind me. As she wrapped her arms around my neck she asked quietly, "Today was the day, wasn't it?"
"Yes," I replied.
"When does the for-sale sign go up in the front yard?" she asked in half-serious tone.
"We're OK, I wasn't laid off," she sighed with relief, "but, two thirds of the newsroom was," I continued, and her relief quickly turned to stunned disbelief.
"Oh Sweetie, I'm so sorry," she said with a comforting and compassionate tone. She kissed my neck and cheek as she hugged me tighter. As she did I felt her lovely breasts press into my back. Since she breast fed her always beautiful breasts were transformed into a luxurious and comforting bosom.