From bankers to broadway

I was half-way through the follow up entry to the Prop 8: The Musical when our lives took a bit of a detour. I was going to talk about the demise of Broadway given that it was Marc Shaiman, Hairspray’s composer, who wrote Prop 8: The Musical and was the piano player in the video. I was going to talk about how sad it is that so many musicals will be gone in the new year: Spamalot, Young Frankenstein, 13, Grease, Spring Awakening AND Hairspray.

As a Jew and a gay homosexual, I'm deeply saddened for me and all the other Jews and gay homosexuals who are either out of a job or who will have only a handful of musicals to see in the foreseeable future. Oh the insanity! What's next? Chinese food restaurants? What are my people supposed to do for Christmas?

I went to bed thinking about how the economy is affecting us all from bankers to Broadway, and I was going to write some sort of deeply profound commentary about birth and rebirth and this time of change. Actually, I don’t think I’m capable of writing a deeply profound commentary, but it sounded good. The goal was to get a good night’s sleep so that I could revisit this blog with fresh eyes and new ideas, but my children had other plans. Asher had a fever and was up and down all night long. The little one was up all night, too, for no apparent reason. It was a rare and horrible night because they were both up all f-ing night. Asher would finally fall asleep and then Levi would start kicking off and eventually wake his brother. Whining, moaning, crying all night long.

I've been in a haze all day today. Gabriella was supposed to attend a meeting locally and spend the rest of the day working from home, but she chose not to go to the meeting so that she could sleep while I made the boys breakfast, got them dressed and surrendered to the television. Luckily, Asher's fever broke and Levi had a very successful poop that seemed to right whatever wrongs he had been suffering. If only I could solve all my woes with a good bowel movement.

It was after Gabriella woke up to get on a conference call that she read an email about the 850 lay-offs at her company. She called her boss and learned that after 16 years there, her last day was to be tomorrow. She was made redundant as they say in the UK. No bowel movement was going to right this wrong though it was certainly shitty news. Needless to say, Gabriella was not a happy camper. After many encouraging phone calls with friends and colleagues and 2 or 3 or…some bloody marys, Gabriella was feeling hopeful about the road ahead.

Once upon a time this company was a great place to work. Young, creative people ran the show, and employees were proud to work there. Almost everyone felt as if they were a part of something exciting no matter what their age or title. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that there was also a lot of partying and hooking up and what seemed like limitless expense accounts. Like many other successful companies, this one grew and matured and became the massive corporation it is today. It’s a solid place to work, but it’s unlikely anyone feels like they are developing professionally or learning about the industry let alone having much fun.

In many ways, we’re fortunate. Gabriella had been considering a job change for a while, and her company did her a favor by showing her the door and handing her enough change to take the panic out of the next few months. It is difficult, of course, to deal with the inevitable fear of the unknown, but we have faith-faith in ourselves to move on and land on our feet. I do NOT believe that everything happens for a reason, so don’t even think about hurling that crap at me. There is no pre-determined plan at work. Things went pear-shaped because the economy sucks, and things will work out because Gabriella has a vast amount of experience and is well respected in her industry and has fantastic friends who are already reaching out to help her find another job. (Keep it coming, friends!)

I hope she gets a job soon. It’s not that I’m worried that she won’t find anything eventually. I’m worried that she’s going to drive me nuts! I have always wanted an extra set of hands to help me out around the house, but I’d rather those hands be attached to a young, perky Italian au pair who won’t tell me what to do or judge me for what I don’t do. These next few months may prove to be a wonderful bonding opportunity for all of us. Or, I might have to take her to the train every morning and leave her at Starbucks until 5PM to keep her out of my hair.