Thursday night we attended the holiday party of my husband's company. It was a sad affair. About half the people there are losing their jobs in February. Another half have been offered the option of moving to Boston. Some will go, some are too tied to their community or have other issues that keep them from moving. We attended another party like this in Dec. 2003, a year and a half after the untimely death of our friend and founder of that company. His wife and brother guiding the existing workers in that economic tech bust had been unable to sustain the business.
Holiday parties of businesses that are downsizing or failing are hard to take. Being a naturally fun person, I had too many cosmopolitans. The bartenders must have known the mood of the room and made the drinks large and strong. While there was a DJ, dancers among this crowd of computer programmers and accountants are typically few. That night there were virtually none. I tried to encourage some dancing but mostly danced alone and participated in a bunch of careful, awkward conversations. It's a strange sensation to feel like a survivor among the ruins.
This situation is still a secret kept from our families and kids. Until we have decided what we are doing there is little sense in spreading anxiety. But if I look at the upside for us: it is possible that if we can sell our home, we will do well moving back to a city we left reluctantly 17 years ago. We met in Boston and had a wonderful time there in the early 1990s. I almost feel like we have a special secret that brings us closer.