Righting Someone Else's Train

Letting an employee go is never an easy thing. It's always the culprit of a stress headache, clenched jaw and/or jumpy stomach.

As an employer we affect people's lives. They rely on us for money to keep their lights on, food in their fridge and gas in their car. We put presents under the Christmas tree and celebratory champagne in their glasses. This isn't an egotistical position it's a fact. So.Much.Responsibility.

For those of us signing those checks, there is a lot of power and responsibility in that.
Without diminishing my staff, they are like my children. They look to me to make this company a success. The look to me to keep the lights on, health care paid and food on their tables. It's serious shit.

And in the short time that my company has been in existence I've let a fair amount of people go. I don't subscribe to keeping someone on and crossing my fingers. I trust my gut and I listen to it. If it doesn't seem like it's going to work it probably isn't. It isn't personal, it's business. At least usually that's how it works out.

Today I let an employee go. It was the hardest one yet. There was a lot wrapped up in our "relationship." She fell on hard times and went through some pretty tough shit. I felt for her. I've been there. We have all been there. I believed that she would pull through and go back to who first was.

But life shit changes you. Sometimes for the good. Sometimes for the bad. Sometimes it just takes a while to right the train and get back on track.

I gave her time and let her float. But she never made it back to a place that would work for our organization. We need(ed) more. She just couldn't give it to us (me).

So as I uttered the words "I just have to let you go"  I cried. I couldn't help it. I feel like I failed her. Like if only I had (fill in the blank), it would have worked. She would have righted the train, dusted off the sides and taken off. But I didn't and she didn't. I couldn't lift the train on my own and she wasn't able to pick up her share either.

It's heart breaking and sad. She will go home today and probably cry. She will have to tell her friends and family that she couldn't pick up that train. That the people rooting for the train gave up. It will be hard on her. Much harder for her than for me.

She will wake up the next day and not have a job. But I hope she doesn't forget that she does have a life. That her life needs her to stand at those tracks, stare down that train and figure out how to get it up and running.

And when that train is running we will all silently cheer because we are all humans and we are all on the same team.

The view from the corner office is poopy. Seriously.
Mostly because their is no view. I spend so much time sifting through the poop of it all that there is no view.

At times I'd love to scream to my employees "WHAT ABOUT ME AND MY LIFE!!! I have issues and baggage and problems. I have to deal with them just like you do. But I also have to carry some of your baggage and problems!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Now don't get me wrong, I am all for taking care of your shit and bettering your self. But really, can't people better themselves while keeping their work shit together?

And then it hit me.....the employees are like my children. So very wrapped up in their own little lives that they cannot see beyond that.
My kids can't see (nor do they care) that I just had a hellish day. That I'm carrying the load of a company with the financial stresses. They just care that the other one just stuck his tongue out.
So my employees are't worried about the mismanagement of funds which has caused us to pull from the line of credit that we just paid down. They don't care that payroll is $18k every two weeks and that we still need to add more team members. They don't care.
But unlike my children, it isn't that they don't care...it's that they don't know. And the reality is that if I am doing my job, they don't need to know. It shouldn't enter their minds because I make it look easy.
To that, I say "Oh shit."

I can describe it as spinning. Not around in circles like when you've had too much to drink. Or spinning like too much energy or drugs or something similar. Spinning in that things go so fast you cant quite stop. Like when, as a kid, you would sit on a rope swing and someone would twist you around and around and around until you had raised 3 feet higher. Then they let go, run to the side and you just spin. Spin so fast the world flies by and nothing is recognizable. You cant stop the spin. Dragging your feet or screaming or someone grabbing your hand doesn't help. You spin and spin. You just have to spin until the rope lengthens and the motion stops. Then, you sit for a moment, thankful that its over. Standing up you take a few steps. Unsteady. Unsure. And you do it all over.

That's how I feel. I'm past initial winding up part where it isn't too late to turn back. I'm more at the part right before it spins. I know it's going to spin, but I just keep hoping that the spin will be slow and my feet will reach to slow it down. I hope that maybe it won't spin and someone will unwind me by hand. Slowly letting out the tension. Catching me as I unravel. Holding my hand and forgiving each time I squeeze too hard or hit them with my feet. Or maybe it will spin so fast and so fun that the pain and misery will be worth it. But I keep slowing winding knowing what comes next and how I wont be able to control it. 

I feel sad. 
But I don't really know why.
I feel like I wanna dance.
But I don't really know why.
I feel like I could drink for days.
But I don't like the aftermath.
I feel angry.
But I don't have any concrete reasons why or who.
I feel lost.
But everyone knows where I am.