The machine moved relentlessly for months, heads rolled, the only mercy it showed was towards pregnant women.
It danced around them, it stopped a few desks away from me, but I was informed that I would be next, so I told everyone to start using my pop mail account and not my work one. But then everything stopped and I settled into intense denial, denial that I would be okay and wouldn't lose my job.
But now it has all started again, and it's no longer possible to be cushioned by any form of denial. There is only the waiting, three weeks or less to see if I have the one-in-eight chance of keeping my job, the only ones exempt are, of course, the pregnant women -- they can't be touched, positive discrimination I think it's called.
Then you hear people talk with sympathy for the young married couple with 1.5 kids, and how their future hangs in the balance, but I, as a single homo man, seem to be far down the sympathy list. But after going through the stress of getting a mortgage on my own, and then paying a mortgage for the past two years, I stand to lose my most important thing, my home.
I don't have a partner to come home to, to share my stress with, and I don't have kids to look at in the evening and make me think it's all worthwhile. If the unthinkable does happen I won't have a partner to wake up beside every morning and tell me we can get through this. Okay, you're probably thinking I'm feeling sorry for myself but, when you are a single person, your home means as much to you -- if not more -- than it does to a couple. So I ask for sympathy for the single people who are losing their jobs and homes: they worked hard for them too and they did it on their own.