On top of world no more

Almost as if by design, you are permitted an occasional, brief taste of The Good Stuff before The Cup is slapped away from your lips by the unfeeling, uncaring corporate gods.

What cup is that you might ask? Nothing other than the White Collar Worker Holy Grail: Job Satisfaction. It is incredibly elusive, hidden behind riddles and mysteries and hoaxes, and possibly clues to its location reside in the form of anagrams on the back of the Mona Lisa.

Lord knows I’ve had no luck following its trail via conventional means, working hard, creating results for the company, establishing a stellar reputation, and forming healthy relationships with peers, employees and the fucking idiots above me.

After three long years of work, endless frustration, thousands of PowerPoint pages and millions of dollars in profit, I was exactly where I wanted to be in the company, doing exactly what I wanted to do. Sure, the project wasn’t all that high profile. And yes, it wasn’t a new project as much as making the most out of an old one, but it was all mine. I could do just about anything I wanted to with it. I had earned that kind of trust. I said give it to me, and I’ll milk that old cow until the last drop of milk squirts out of her ragged old teat.

Promises were made. Commitments were written down and agreed on. Various execs at every level of the company signed off on my plan. All that was left was to execute, and so that’s what I’ve been doing for the last six months, me and team of 30ish, all of whom signed on to this leaky old Titanic because they believed in me.

Then, I got the call. The company had sold my Titanic, while I was below deck welding shut the holes. My Titanic now belongs to someone else, someone who really doesn’t give a shit if my ship sinks because my company wants him to build an entirely new ship. My Titanic, to him, is nothing but trouble, a distraction, something that would best be left to drop to the ocean floor. Where is that second iceberg when you need it?

What kills me about all this is that every boss I had, all the guys who have come to think of me as a superstar, who know that I deliver, who have seen me occasionally work miracles, are gone. All that credibility and good will, poof.

Now I’m working for some putz who wasn’t even part of the company a week ago. In fact, my company BOUGHT HIS COMPANY. Somehow, I’m taking orders from him, even though my division MADE MORE MONEY LAST YEAR THAN HIS ENTIRE SHITTY OPERATION.

I feel betrayed, abandoned, and utterly fucked by the corporate gods. I was on top of the world, but my world seems to be slated for destruction by a powerful alien entity.

I hate working on my resume. I just hate it.