Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

It’s kind of strange. A little over a week ago, I was bemoaning my ho-hum job at FFP, and tomorrow I will have no job to bemoan. In fact, this is my very last post from this computer. 

It seems that some very sneaky things have been happening while I have been happily filing away. It seems that for the past year, my boss has been working with a company who has been transferring all of our medical records to an electronic system. You would think I would have known this. You would think that the huge chunks of missing files would not have escaped my attention. I would have thought that, too.

However, you must put yourselves in my shoes (today I’m wearing those horrid white Keds for the last time, if you need a visual.) Open up the heavy glass door. File an application. Get hired immediately by a desperate, desperate man the color of a polka-dotted tomato. Start work that instant, filing, filing, and filing. Spend a good portion of that day (and every day thereafter) looking for files that will never be found. For all you know, this is normal. It was normal to me. 

They were nice about it anyway. “They” meaning “he” — Freckled Fred. He met with me as soon as I got in this morning. I thought he was going to give me another lecture about the follies of pen hoarding, but instead he smiled a fat smile and looked at me pityingly.

“Thank you for all of the hard work you’ve been putting in lately. I can really tell you’ve taken my advice…rolling up your shirt sleeves and getting things done around here.”

“Umm…thanks.” (At this moment, I knew something was wrong.)

“So this is nothing personal. You’re doing great. Really.”

Silence.

“Tomorrow we’re launching a new electronic system of filing patient records. It’s going to be more secure and more efficient. We will be on a network that will allow us to instantly share medical records with any office in the world who uses the same technology.”

“Wow.”

“Yes, exactly. Unfortunately, your position has been made obsolete. We no longer need your services. You will have two weeks to find a new position. We will, of course, give you a fair severance package. Endings are only beginnings in disguise, you know. I will put a good word for you at…wherever.”

I was completely shocked. I think I smiled and said, “Thanks” or something else moronic. But when I got in my office, I decided that I am not coming back tomorrow. I am going to be completely unprofessional and irresponsible, and I will sleep until noon. Maybe I will eat gummy bears for breakfast, even. I will pretend each one is Freckled Fred, and I will eat only the heads off of each one.