Getting Picked Last
For me it was kickball but you can easily enter any numerous team sports where you stand either huddled in a mass or in line reluctantly facing the “firing squad.” Your fate (your popularity, your pride and your self-esteem) are in the hands of two twerps who get to pick out the best of the bunch.
One by one names begin to ring out and faces of the popular, the athletic , the best begin to emerge. Meanwhile, if you were ever anything like me, you are NEVER picked first and so that sinking feeling of being left behind begins to grow. That lead ball in your stomach is the combined knotted mass of humiliation, raw exposure, that cupcake you thought was so good at lunch, jealousy, perhaps a little betrayal and ultimate rejection.
Well, that pretty much sums up the feeling I’ve relived in my search for a new gig as my account slowly but surely goes away. Sure at first I am excited to hear who gets to jump ship first although we all hope it’s us.
“Wow, Tribal, that’s great. Awesome”
But on the inside, I wonder why they never called me back.
“So I hear you are leaving. Where ya going? Dailey…wow (overtly high pitched) good for you.”
Well, you didn’t want to go to Daily anyway. Too far.
“Did I hear you are leaving? Where to? 180 (who the hell is that). Great.”
Now why didn’t I hear of them? No matter probably small-time.
“Today is your last day –really? DDB? Cool”
Are you freakin’ kidding me. HE got a job before me? Ugh!”
“So heard you were going to Team One. That’s (through a gritted smile) awesome!”
Fuck! She got in there. Are you kidding me? She just came over from accounting. FUCK!!!
Then I begin to strain trying to overhear who else is leaving. My stomach begins to get that familiar knot of dread. Am I really going to be the last fucking person left on this dying account? Do I suck that badly? Should I just pack up my shit and call it on the whole fucked-up ad career I so earnestly picked and shoved my way into 11 years ago?
“You got an interview where? They’re a great shop. Good luck (not really, I hope you crash in burning flames).”
That’s it. Now I am not even getting called for interviews. I am really and truly going to be the last one standing. And as this echos in my now paranoid mind, I dart up to survey the empty landscape of cubicles and realize that, yes, as a matter of fucking fact, I am going to be the last dumb shit left on this sinking ship.
Although not entirely alone. I am left exposed, humiliated, seething with jealousy and dread as my self-esteem goes to that familiar sinking feeling of being picked last.
