"Downsized" in Lamorinda

There's at least one four-letter word hiding the nine-letter word "downsized."  We won't get into it here, Lamorinda Patch being a family-oriented site and all, but it seems more people than ever have been subjected to the curse of the current economy, and I'm sure that word has come to mind on more than one occasion.

I've given it some thought, as you can tell.  That's partially because my brain is an East Bay fog trap.  The type of fog that seems to filter in and fill your head the morning that child from HR appears at your desk with a clipboard, runs her French- wrapped finger down her list and says: "And you are?"

That's when it creeps in and takes hold.  The slow-crawling grey cloud that builds between your eyes and, for a minute, you're certain you can't find your way to the front door let alone remember to grab your keys on the way out.

In 2010, joining the unemployed after 20 years in a given field isn't even fodder for neighborly gossip.  Walk up and down any Lamorinda street or spend time in that haven for the unemployed - Starbucks - and you'll find a small army of former architects, dentists, project managers, and software engineers hiding behind their laptops.  Don't get me started about the writers, dancers, sculptors, and theater directors.  We expect them to be starving in their garrets (and they are), but these days, some of them don't even have the garret.

Being downsized is so common it's not even chic to complain about it.  Instead, we're all supposed to "wait it out," or "find ourselves" in something new.  But what if you register low on the patience scale and you're not lost?  Short of electrocuting your boss, or yourself, what's one to do?

You talk to friends.  You tell your story to people who care.  The truth is, for some of us, losing a job  is more like losing sight, an arm, or the ability to breathe.  It chokes you up, spins you dizzy, and spits you out into the blazing heat of "what do I do now?"

I'm left with "Wait and Find."  I know, I know.  No matter how I spooner the words there's always that pesky one buried deep in "downsize," the one we've all muttered privately behind our laptops or in our cold, drafty garrets.  It may be coarse, but it does provide a brief moment of relief.

It's all still pretty raw for me, but we all might find solace in sharing our stories.  Maybe, just maybe, we'll be able to find the upside of being downsized.

We know there are Lamorindans out there feeling the pain.  What's your story?  How did it happen to you?  Drop a note to the editor and we'll get together over coffee and talk about it.  Dutch treat, of course.