It’s the time of the year when romance all of a sudden seems to be on everyone’s mind.  In honor of Valentine’s Day, I would be remiss to not also tell a story involving some romance, intrigue, lies and possibly some high grade explosives used in a controlled explosion on the side of a remote road.  As incredible as the Valentine’s Day Miracle of 2005 is, my mind is still focused on my own unemployment crisis.  But don’t worry, The Miracle is included here in all of its glory. 

Getting laid off is the business world equivalent of “it’s not you, it’s me”.  After all, losing a job is a lot like being dumped by your girlfriend.  There is no good way for your company to lay you off or for your girlfriend to dump you, but there are plenty of bad ways of doing it.  Most likely someone will be walking away feeling rejected and the other will come away feeling somewhat sorry (unless they have no soul). By getting laid off, my heart was just broken; I need time to heal.  It doesn’t feel like good idea to just jump right back in to another relationship.  Maybe even a couple of cheap, meaningless flings are in order.  So what would the job equivalent of a meaningless fling be?  I guess I should run through a couple of temp contract positions until I feel ready to put my heart back on the line. 

What happened to the days of getting together with the boys when you got dumped, and just going on a bender?  Those were the best nights; they started off slow and somber and ended with everybody slurring ‘I love you man,’ and ‘You’re the best,’ and then nobody knows how they got home or where their cars are.  Instead of that, I’m expected to jump right back in bed with another job that may or may not be the one, and God only knows how many other employees it’s been with. 

I’m lucky enough to have a beautiful and understanding fiancée and with a wedding date looming in the near future.  Our backs are up against the wall; the timing couldn’t have been worse.  Delivering the news to her ended up being a lot more complicated than I would’ve imagined, and it dragged out throughout the afternoon.  Right before my career was summoned to the executioner, I shot off a text telling her something was afoot, and that I was pretty worried.  Only her phone wasn’t within reach, so she didn’t get the message until later on in the day.  When The Company’s servers bounced back the emails she was sending to me, she brushed it off as a technical glitch.  When she finally checked her phone, hours had passed and I had been planted on the couch at home for some time.  I could’ve done a better job of reaching out to break the news, but I figured either she was very busy or she just didn’t want to discuss it until she got home. 

When we finally did connect, the news was handled as well as it could’ve been.  The time leading up to a wedding is stressful enough, but adding a horrific twist such as this to the mix can only make things that much worse.  I am fortunate enough to have a great support system in place and plenty of people to go to if need be.  That being said, it is still a little weird when people approach you as if you’re up on a ledge and they’re trying to talk you down.  Just because I lost my job doesn’t mean I completely gave up.  It’s a rough patch, but I’m confident I’ll be clear of it soon. 

The very next day I was determined to at least get the ball rolling on unemployment.  Between the info given to me by HR and what I found online I was convinced that I knew exactly what to do.  Being the real go-getter that I am now, by 1:50 pm I was on my way.  Per the state unemployment website there was a location close by, and after a short ride on public transportation, I was just a short walk from my destination.  Before I made it to my destination, I just so happened to run into a former coworker of mine who asked me what I was up to.  We’ll refer to him as “Fred” for the rest of this piece. 

I replied “I’m about to file for unemployment” with a big ol’ grin on my face.  Fred expressed surprise and revealed that he too had been let go in the prior day’s cuts.  According to him there were approximately thirty people let go.  When he realized we were only a couple of hundred feet from the unemployment office he decided to tag along to take care of it while he was there. 

We headed up to the 4^th floor office, swapping war stories on the way up.  The first elevator we saw happened to be an employee-only elevator. We didn’t realize that until we got kicked out on the second floor and had to walk across the hall to get on the civilian elevator to go the rest of the way.  It’s already turning out to be a process, and at this point one could almost smell the bureaucratic red tape in the air. 

Once in the office we greeted by a scene of just-barely-controlled pandemonium.  I inform the woman behind the counter that I was there to file an initial claim, to which she replied, “You’re in the wrong place.”  I was shocked, so I said, “According to the website I’m in the exact place I need to be.”  I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I was pretty confused at the latest development.  She informed us that the website is incorrect, and the state pretty much refuses to update it.  That sounds about right, our tax dollars hard at work.  She gave us each a sheet with the nearest locations circled on them and luckily there were two within a short walk.  Fred asked if he could just call and she said, “Yeah you could, but I recommend that you don’t.  They usually don’t pick up the phones.”  To summarize: you can’t file online and of the two options they do give you (in person or over the phone) the in-person locations are inaccurate and they don’t answer the phones.  Who says the government isn’t working for its people?  Frustrated but undeterred, I made the windy, cold walk from the wrong place to the (hopefully) right place to file my claim…for real. 

Once inside the doors I was greeted by a long line and a general sense of I don’t give a shit floating in the air.  While waiting in line the stereotypical homeless-looking old woman with a cough that sounds straight out of the morgue stepped in line behind me.  It was a dream come true already, and I was so psyched to be there.  I finally made it to the front of the line and a pleasant, mostly toothless woman greets me and started the process.  Clipboard in hand, I planted my bottom in a chair away from the coughing lady and filled out the short form.  Once that was done I walked back to the desk and place it in the basket on the counter and, thankfully, only like five minutes or so passed before my name was called. 

As I sat at the back of the office, a middle-aged gentleman informed me of just how little progress I was going to make that day.  It turns out that since I got paid through the end of January I can’t start collecting until the end of the month (unless I want to start dabbling in fraud).  That hadn’t dawned on me.  Why wouldn’t they be able to just get it started and note the future collection date in the system?  Again, the government is amazing.  My old HR department is quite spectacular too; they told me I could file the claim online and to do it right away.  The middle-aged man ended up being very helpful and informed me of what I should bring with me next week, when I can finally file for real.  One of the things he mentioned was something HR chose not to, so if you’re scoring at home they are 0-3.  Why is it that I was the one to lose my job?  When I finally arrived home (at about 3:40), it was with more paper work than when I left and no progress had been made.  In almost two hours I accomplished nothing except for burning a few calories walking all over the city.  Successful Day 1? 

For now, that’s enough about by unemployment adventure.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to read about the Valentine’s Day Miracle of 2005.  It was Saturday, February 12, and the girl I was seeing at the time (we’ll call her “Clarice”) was coming by that night.  The plan was for her to go out with a group including friends of mine and friends of hers, and then she would spend the night at my place.  This was to be the first sleep over in our young relationship, so it was a pretty big deal. 

We met through my roommate (we’ll call her “Liz”), who happened to the only female brave enough to live with three other guys in a sloppy bachelor pad and was also Clarice’s best friend.  When Clarice did arrive that night I could tell immediately that she was in a bad mood and I was really taken aback by this.  When asked if everything was okay she replied, “Yes.”  Apparently she was expecting a big romantic night alone with me and I still, to this day, have no idea where that idea came from.  To reiterate the plans that had been run by her before: we would be going out with a group of people that included Liz, so there was no way Clarice could’ve not known what was going on.  People would be gathering at my place, then we’d make a quick stop on the way into the city so I could introduce some other friends to Clarice. 

The first of my friends to arrive came via train, so Clarice and I had to take a quick drive a mile down the road to pick him up.  The whole duration of the short drive was full of bad vibes, and as best as I tried to defuse the situation, she wasn’t responding to anything.  She was even getting angry while I was driving and things proceeded to just get awkward once my friend was in the car.  Walking from the car to the apartment, I could see her playing with her phone. All of a sudden I get a text from Clarice, and this is where the wheels really start to come off the wagon.  The text reads: 

HEY HOPE U R HAVING A GOOD NITE! MY NITE IS SUKING SO FAR:(

Wait, are you kidding me?  At this point she had only been there fifteen minutes and she obviously was not even trying.  Not to mention that it was just weird.  Inside, we had a few minutes alone while my friend went off to shower.  Again I asked if everything was fine.  Clarice says yes but then starts getting angry because she hasn't eaten all day.  Now, I knew she didn't do anything all day, so I was curious as to how this could be.  I asked why, and she proceeded to blow my mind by saying that she only ate once a day to stay in shape.  She didn’t work out, no other effort except for an unhealthy diet.  Well that seemed to be a problem that I could rectify quite easily so I ordered some pizza.  I went to get it alone and along the way I figured I would play along so I responded to her text finally with a simple “What's wrong?”  Quickly she responded with:

IT'S OK FOR NOW R U HANGING OUT 2NITE:)

Oh no she didn’t….did she?  I quickly responded with, “Yeah... with you...”  Within a second she shot back:

WAIT A MINUTE WHAT R U TALKING ABOUT?

The switch was flipped, the light bulb flickered on, and it finally dawned on me that she meant to send all those messages to somebody else.  Now I was pretty pissed and knew I was in store for an unforgettable night, and not the good kind.  Before we started eating I took advantage of another moment alone to confront her about the messages.  Again I asked her if she was alright, and again she said yes. I then asked why she sent me the text and instead of coming clean she chose to play dumb.  I had to pull out my phone and show her the messages, complete with her name attached to them.  Her amazing response was, “Well I couldn't possibly have sent that because I'm having a good time.”  I said “okay” and that was it, I was done. There was just no point in arguing with a character like that.

Shortly thereafter, the last guy we were waiting for showed up and we headed out.  She was still awkwardly not really responding and I could tell everybody, including me, was bored.  At the party down the street, the “relationship” proceeded to circle the drain in tighter and faster circles on its inevitable way down.  After we arrived and had a couple of quick introductions, my buddy’s girlfriend takes Clarice on a tour of the apartment and Clarice took this time to unload on a woman she just met.  Instead of politely taking in the sights she decided to bitch about me to this stranger.  While that was happening I quickly filled in my friends on the texts that were exchanged.  Once word of that got around, in combination with the tour story, people were advising me to end it as soon as possible.  That was the worst introduction I’ve ever heard of.

After a painfully silent cab ride we finally arrived at the final stop for the night.  Walking in, she was directly behind me and decided to use this moment to take a shot at me.  In a baffling display of stupidity, she starts making all these motions with her hands once our group is in sight, in an attempt to convey just how awful a date I was.  This group was most definitely not hers, as a good 95% of the people in it were more my friends than hers, so why did she think she’d find support there?

Giving it one last shot, I went up to her to find out what was wrong and naturally she waited until we were in the most public place to come clean.  She said she was having a terrible time and I couldn’t even deal anymore.  I paused, laughed and walked away.  Besides that, we didn’t have any contact at all until the end of the night.  I branched off with a couple of my friends and spent the rest of the night just having a good time.

Right before close she came up to me and said, “I thought you left,” and in all honesty I could only respond with the same.  Pretty soon we were heading back to my place, only in separate cabs this time.  Liz decided to crash at her boyfriend’s that night and somehow someone came up with the idea of Clarice staying at my place, only in Liz’s room.  How this would be anything but awkward is anybody’s best guess.  My roommates were out of town, my other friends had left, so that just left me and a house full of crazy.

When I finally got up that morning, I had aspirations to run and go to the gym, but I didn't want to leave her alone in the apartment because I was convinced that she was highly unstable.  I didn’t even want to see or look at her, let alone talk to her.  Since my room was upstairs and Liz’s was downstairs, that meant I was banished to the upstairs portion of the house until she left.  We had only been on a couple of dates over the last month, so it’s not like it was anything remotely serious at that point.  For some reason she didn’t get up until about noon, and then she decided to take a shower and didn't leave until almost 1:00.

Once she was gone, panic set in as it dawned on me what was about to happen.  Valentine’s Day was the next day and being the nice guy that I am, I had arranged for flowers to be delivered to her office.  That couldn’t happen after last night, and I then realized what needed to be done.  I had to get on the phone to 1-800-FLOWERS and put an emergency stop on the pink tulips (her favorite) that were en route to her office for Valentine's Day delivery. 

Once connected, I tell the customer service rep what needs to be done, and the response was "Sorry sir, that package has already been shipped. The only way to cancel it now is if she rejects it upon delivery."  The way I saw it, if Clarice was presented with that choice, no matter what she chose, she’d have the upper hand.  Either way, I was never going to talk to her again and I wanted to go out on top. 

I started to panic and said, “No, you don't understand, she can't get those; she can't have the chance to reject them.”  After a brief pause, I delivered what turned out to be the game saving line: “Listen, I caught her in bed with my neighbor; she's not getting these flowers.”  After a moment of stunned silence, the customer rep’s response was, “Okay Sir, give me your number.  I'll call FedEx and see what I can do.”  After couple of minutes filled with nervous pacing, the rep called back, but somehow I missed the call.  I had to call back and naturally I ended up with a different rep. 

The danger I’m faced with now is that no matter what the situation is, this new rep would be in no way sympathetic to my plight.  While waiting for her to find my file to see what happened, I got a little caught up in my story and started peppering her with more “facts” like “Yeah, she slept with everyone on my street, this just isn't right.”  Finally, she came through with the answer: "Sir, we got in touch with FedEx, and the only thing they could do is destroy the package. Because the order was cancelled you'll get a full refund."

Up to that point, it was probably the best news I had ever heard in my life.  I was fully prepared to eat the sixty dollars - anything to keep her from getting those tulips.  You know, on our first date Clarice told me she speaks her mind and that she never lies... who lies about that?

My visual of the package being destroyed goes something like this: a call being placed to a FedEx driver who is out on some road in the middle of nowhere.  The truck pulls over to the side of the road with a squeal of the tires.  The door flies open and the driver sprints back down the road, with the package in one hand and a grenade in the other.  In quick, fluid motions he places the package down, tears it open and slams the now active grenade into it.  He sprints back to the truck and peels out in a cloud of dust and watches the explosion in his side mirror as he flies down the road.  It truly was a miracle.