Yeah, forget it.
It turns out I didn't sell out soon enough. They let me go this week.
My supervisor was very pleased with my increase in productivity and when I specifically asked her if I'd be given enough time for it to improve my overall monthly scores, she indicated that I would have another three months or so. But then, the management above her decided to go ahead and press the Eject button on my cubicle anyway when they saw that I hadn't bonused at the end of January -- at least, that's how it was explained to me (okay, they didn't say anything about an Eject button, but I'm sure they must have one somewhere). They were also very cautious when they broke the news to me, possibly expecting me to pull an Orson-Welles-in-Citizen-Kane routine on the office furniture, so I'm pretty sure they understood what was happening. Either that or that's their standard firing procedure (which it easily could be, given the company's rate of turnover).
The funny thing is that I didn't really crash into a panic or a depression, which is what I think would ordinarily be expected. I was sort of numb for a couple of days, and then I started feeling a lot better. I think this mostly has to do with the fact that I really despised working there and being released was rather like being let out of a Gulag. So, there was a good deal of ambivalence as the positive balanced out the negative.
Then something unexpected happened.
I have never doubted that my situation over the last several years took a serious psychological toll on me -- what with the soulless call center job I had in Atlanta, my breakup and divorce and then the soulless call center job in Charlotte. My roommate, who has always been concerned for my well-being, would let me know on multiple occasions that it looked like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders and I just wasn't myself. Posts on this very Livejournal from earlier times can doubtless corroborate this.
Well, a couple of friends took me out to dinner the other night and we had a nice, long talk. And, as the evening was drawing to a close, I noticed myself talking about the sort of things I like to talk about with people and having a good time doing it, which is something I haven't experienced in quite a while (whereas just last month, I would have an okay time doing it but still be concerned about how the conversation was going, how soon I'd have to be going to bed, what I'd need to do to steer the conversation onto something more interesting so as not to run out of things to say and have to deal with awkward silences, etc.). I took note of my reactions and emotions and after they left it occurred to me that I may finally be myself again.
Not to be overly melodramatic, but let me just say that one more time.
After all this time, and everything that's happened to me, I think that I may finally be myself again.
And I've got to tell you, whatever else happens, it feels damn good. :)