There we were "whittled". The man acting as an interim creative director had once again overcome his own struggles with blending life experiences into "a real job". To the tune of I need a new drug, we scratched and clawed our way out of the forests. I need a new job, one that don't hurt like hell....
All the training had amounted to an en masse dismissal, at least until we get this sorted out, one man said as one woman said, until we get this fine tuned. Both were correct in their phrasing of that stage. Meanwhile all the outreach, analysis, data collection, and program agendas were being loaded onto discs and through keyboards onto "software".
"So...they needed a break?"
"Not exactly but almost everyone older than us is already on a career path. And they are all coming up against changes in the economy and," the person's voice broke off though there was no distraction to merit why.
"It's like, is it like what I had to tell the Detective?"
"What did you have to tell the Detective?" Some pals and a parent wanted to know. "Very little. Almost nothing." Because I'd been being loyal to commitments with non-profits and also as a trainee more than an independent writer.
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