For some reason, my bachelor’s degree in creative writing and my master’s degree in literature landed me a position as a middle manager in a local bank’s organization. It was a job where I rarely got to put my literary skills on display, but it was also a job that sufficiently paid the bills — and funded a growing savings account. I decided, for quite some time, that this was a fact which made me happy. I could overlook paying for student loans that funded an education which I used in virtually no aspect of my job, just so long as I could furnish my particular lifestyle.
It all came crashing down roughly around the same time that the economy also came crashing down. Banks weren’t exactly high on the list of resilient companies during the most recent economic downturn and I, as one of the newer employees at this particular financial institution, was one of the first people on the chopping block. Armed with two weeks to finish my job, as well as a semi-generous severance package, I walked back to my desk after receiving my so-called “pink slip” and prepared for the worst.
