I found out today. It's official: I am losing my beloved job on December 28th. That date will mark 11 months exactly since I started the job in late January. It's been the coolest 11 months of my career.
But, then what do I do? You tell me, because I'm tired of picking and choosing.
Here are some options:
1. Take a job in New York with the agency who got the account I've been working on and with which I am intimately familiar? (Not to mention the NYC factor of misery -- no offense to New Yorkers who might read this blog, but I can't have a 2,000 sq ft. house in NY on 1 acre just 20-30 minutes from work.)
2. Do nothing and wait for the new agency to fuck it up enough so that it comes back to my current agency and then go back to work for them after x amount of weeks? (A possibility.)
3. Sell everything and move to Mexico, living like a real American? (My favorite.)
4. Move back in with Mommie and start writing my memoires? (Easy & cheap.)
5. Dig my heels in and try to find another position in my rather specialized field which might require relocation and a learning curve with the subtle nuances of whatever accounts I might be working on while realizing that it too shall pass, sooner or later, and I get to have a replay of this very post down the road? (Setting myself up for another round of agony.)
There are no easy answers. I never said this QotD was going to be easy.
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