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The axe has fallen again. This time, they're laying off one of my oldest friends. I got him the job here, a few years ago--or, more precisely, let him know they wanted freelancers, which he turned into a full-time job--and they think very highly of him. Or so we thought. But he's in the wrong department. They're going after Publications like an overenthusiastic lumberjack who just found an untouched forest.
The dull aching feeling is there all over again: Mark says he's been expecting the axe to fall all month, ever since he heard about my being laid off, but I wasn't, quite. (His end-date is the same as mine, Sept. 30, as are the severance conditions, except that I've been here longer, so one week's pay for every year of service is more in my case than in his.)
The dull aching feeling is there all over again: Mark says he's been expecting the axe to fall all month, ever since he heard about my being laid off, but I wasn't, quite. (His end-date is the same as mine, Sept. 30, as are the severance conditions, except that I've been here longer, so one week's pay for every year of service is more in my case than in his.)
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