...but that's not how I got my name: Cranky. My 3 year old son is a Thomas the Tank Engine freak. Seriously, a freak. He has given everyone in the family a name that corresponds to one of the Thomas characters. My daughter is Emily, my husband, Neville, Grandpa is Hiro, and I, of course, am Cranky.
It's not as bad as it sounds. Cranky is a crane, and as my son tells anyone who will listen, "Cranky helps trains." But I am cranky, in the tradtional sense of the word. Especially in the morning.
So, I'm cranky and unemployed. Maybe I'm cranky because I'm unemployed. My company "integrated" with another (integration is another word for taken over by aliens). And, after 11 very successful and productive years with this company, I was told that "in the restructured organization, there isn't a position for you." (Harkens back to the "It's not you, it's me" conversations).
Before you feel too sorry for me, you should know that I walked away with a year's severence, insurance benefits at corporate prices ($250/month), and 6 months of outplacement. But it still kind of sucks. And if one more person tells me not to take it personally, I think it could get ugly.
Anyway...seemed like a great situation for blogging. For my own mental health. And maybe one or two people will read and comment. Who knows what will happen, but at least I can take a break from all that networking. That makes me cranky!
