Not my baby (anymore)

Had my husband's inevitable music stardom been actual and not just imminent, I might not have spent last week fretting so much. But alas, I am still responsible for one half of the bread winning in our household. A week of lip-biting over the rocky future of my employment has culminated in justified worry: yesterday, I lost my job. 

My last day is this Friday. Two thirds of our team members have been laid off and the company will be shutting one of its two stores. It's not the end for Pistachio, by any means, just the end of my love affair with the little eco-shop that could. I still believe strongly in the brand and I hope for a bright and profitable future for the store. At the same time, I just can't help but feel like I'm losing my baby...

[ Pistachio, Valentines Day 2009 ]

Alex insisted I stop calling it "my baby", because, really, it never was. Sure I was allowed to foster and nurture it, but I never had any custodial rights to begin with. One day, I'll have my own "baby" (a little shop of my very own), deserving of my tears.

I have already passed through most of the stages of grief, as I have been expecting this decision for a few weeks. Last week, it was sadness. Saturday (fueled by a few glasses of wine with Miss. T), it was anger. Today, it's acceptance. I bypassed denial and bargaining somehow, but neither of those stages are helpful anyway.

I am already looking ahead. I've applied to two jobs internally (with Pistachio's parent company), my friend is throwing me some freelance marketing work, and a few really fantastic supporters have already been feeling out their contacts. My resume is a veritable jambalaya of unrelated skills, and an alphabet soup of job experience. It could use refining, but at this point, I'm open to anything, so why limit myself? This really could be the best thing for me - maybe, for once, I can focus and get some real experience at one thing at a time. 

My dream job is not an option. Yet. I plan to open my own pet boutique one day, but I'm realistic enough to know that I could use a bit more experience in the retail world. An actual business plan and some wealthy investor friends would help too. Baby steps, Dayna, baby steps. 

In the meantime, I'm happy to slag out a few more years in the 9-to-5 world for the experience. Maybe by then, my successful musician husband can help me open shop. Lord knows, by then I'll have suffered through so much bandwife loneliness, that I'll deserve it. I jest, but really, these boys have something great. I have high hopes!

p.s. I'm officially in the market for new employment digs! Like a real grown-up, I set up a LinkedIn account today; click here to view my resume and profile.