The Moment of Removal
Getting fired does not happen in a single moment with a single sentence. It is a process that occurs in layers.
I Will not See Her, I Decline was one of the first poems I wrote as I looked for a way to process, something steady to hold on to. It was my way of drawing a line when it had already been drawn for me.
When You’re Fired by a Dumbass came a little later, reflecting the indignation and shock. It was me not reacting well to the clash of competence and incoherence, when competence lost on a whim.
Removal is also a process that includes getting fired, but it is bigger than that.
For me, removal started in the days that followed, where structural decisions were reframed as “personnel matters.” Where the room filled with elephants no one was permitted to name. Elephants in the Room came from that quieter, more insidious moment, when the narrative began to calcify, and the real story was gently, deliberately replaced.
So, I arranged these stories in terms of temperature, rather than time.
One is heat.
One is boundary.
One is the rewriting of cause and effect.
Elephants in the Room
She meant miscreant,
But she said elephant,
Like taking up space was the crime.
Framed us as vulnerable.
Damageable.
Open.
Exposed.
We don’t leave the room.
Not formidable,
Not inevitable,
Not strong or composed.
We don’t leave the room.
She wanted us laid bare,
Something raw,
On display.
But like our pachyderm sisters,
We were not there to play.
We don’t leave the room.
Say it again.
We don’t leave the room.
Elephants don’t scatter.
We circle and protect.
We kick up the dust.
We remember what we must.
We close in tight.
Guard.
We don’t leave the room.
We don’t break.
Still here.
I Will Not See Her, I Decline
I will not see her, I decline.
Not now, not later, anytime.
I will not see her in a room.
I will not see her on the Zoom.
I will not see her in the hall,
I will not see her, not at all.
I will not see her in a car,
I will not see her near or far.
I will not see her passing by,
I will not meet her eye-to-eye.
I will not see her outside a crowd,
Or hear her thoughts droned aloud.
Decisions made, without a clue,
Announced, undone, then something new.
She’ll change the plan, then change again,
Each day, another frantic spin,
Too tired to plan, too tired to lead,
Too tired to hear what people need.
The swirl of chaos makes her grin,
But she’s lost the plot by half past ten.
No urgent emails in the night,
No crises born from her oversight.
No scrambled tasks, no frantic dash,
No whiplash shifts done in a flash.
I will not see her any way,
Not now, not later, not anyday!
I will not help her plans unwind,
She freed my schedule; I’ll free my mind.
With thanks to Dr. Seuss
When You’re Fired By A Dumbass
It’s difficult to let go
Of years of well-earned ego
When you’re fired by a dumbass.
It’s easy to be sad.
Easier to be mad
When the dumbass is a jackass too.
It’s harder still
To not think ill
Of the dumbass that fired you.
It’s damn hard not to see
The chaos and dumbassery
When you’re still close enough to smell it.
Smell it or not,
In the end, I give thanks.
Not for grace.
Not for class.
I’ve been given a pass
I no longer work
For that dumbass.