Fired? Yes, twice.
The first time was devastating because I didn't see it coming. Once it happens, I think you expect it to happen regardless of feedback and evaluations you receive.
I was nearing the end of year three as the Rock County Bureau reporter-photographer for WISC-TV when the news director made an appointment to see me in the office/studio that was my home base.
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| My Channel 3 mic flag. I got to keep it when this logo was dropped in favor of a new one. (dwm photo) |
Because I was a bureau reporter and could send my stories via microwave to the station, I did not make a lot of trips to the Madison-based newsroom. I was 29 and in my third reporting job out of college. I knew there were areas where I needed to improve and expected to hear about them.
The news director sat in a folding chair, I was at my desk. After small talk, he told me I was going to be let go.
I didn't take it well, tears ran down my face as my brain raced into hyper-drive wondering where the next pay-check would come from; what else could I do; and how I was going to provide for my family. I was a train wreck. My boss gave me the rest of the day off.
WISC was a union shop and I was a member of the Communications Workers of America. That meant I would receive severance pay and hold on to insurance an extra month. I was allowed to work two months before my last day. Looking back, I think the news director made that decision out of the kindness in his heart.
I did my best over those final weeks with one exception. At the time Janesville was dealing with an idiot who was trying to rally people to join the ku klux klan. As a reporter I had to interview him and covered the first rally and the protests against it. During my last weeks, I was called at home one evening and asked to go interview the local leader. I declined. My trips to the house with a tattered confederate flag out-front was more than I could handle again.
There weren't immediate job openings at other stations in the Madison or Rockford, Illinois markets, and it was just as well as those stations paid several thousand dollars less than the 18,000 I was getting.
I searched for work, not finding a reporting job that fit and striking out in attempting to catch on with a marketing or public relations firm.
I treated job-hunting like a full-time job with daily trips to the library to check out classified ads in regional newspapers. I signed up for unemployment compensation. With two young kids at home, we qualified for food stamps, heating assistance, and WIC (Women, Infants, and Children); The combination of those strands in the public safety net kept our heads above water; under a roof; and with food on the table.
As time marched on my search for work widened, it was suggested I could do well as a representative with Aid Association for Lutherans (AAL now Thrivent Financial) selling insurance and investments.
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| My name badge, which I rarely wore. dwm photo |
The local agency didn't have openings, but the man in charge gave me an interview and recommended me to a agency in Eau Claire. I was offered a position contingent on passing tests for a State Insurance License and license to sell mutual funds. Thanks to my parents, I took classes for the exams and passed. I became a District Representative with AAL in March 1993.
The second firing came a couple years after I moved on from selling insurance to get into fundraising. It was a new position, but since the organization was starting from scratch in raising donations and a promised funding source for this position fell apart after a year, there weren't enough gifts to justify the position. I was let go after my second year.
This one I saw coming, so while it hurt, it wasn't a shock. There weren't any unemployment benefits which meant relying on what was in my retirement savings. Thankfully, a new and better job came along a few months later in Indianapolis.
Through the shock, heartache, and depressing moments God provided and showed us the way. Those were growing moments, and I hope I've grown enough to not go down that road again.
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