Laid off from a newspaper -- again

Monday afternoon was very anti-climactic. I had taught my boss the ins and outs of my job that morning. I forwarded her all my contacts and stories in the can. I had already cleaned off my desk the Friday before. I spent the last two hours of my shift scanning the Web, catching up on blogs and changing site registrations to my personal e-mail instead of my work e-mail. Then, at 5:15, I stood up, said “Good bye, desk,” and walked out the door. There was no goodbye e-mail to co-workers. No applause as I walked out. No group luncheon or cake or speech or cards or funny photo signed by the staff. After watching people come and go in my nearly six years at The Bakersfield Californian, I went. Quietly. Knowing I'd be back in the morning only for my severance check.

At least I knew it was coming this time. I prepared myself emotionally. Last time I was laid off from a newspaper company, I had no clue beforehand. The tears flowed. At this point, if the list changed and I was not laid off this morning, I would be severely disappointed. With an 11 percent workforce reduction ready to go, I did not want to be one of the ones left behind in the rubble.

I came to the decision that I do not want to work in the newspaper world anymore back in December. I was on maternity leave and had a feeling my job was going to be eliminated while I was out. My gut instinct held true. Right before Christmas, The Bakersfield Californian executed a 10 percent reduction, eliminating my management position and farming out my three staff members to other departments. I agreed with their decision. For two years I had been the Contributions Editor, soliciting citizen journalism content from our readership, managing our online submission system and editing gems to run in the newspaper. My “staff” included our two news clerks and an assistant editor who led a lot of the staff blogging. We were a motley crew and only put together because our bosses didn't know what else to do with us. Luckily, I wasn't laid off at that point. Instead, I was offered to come back still as the Contributions Editor, only at the non-management level and for less pay. But a job was a job and I didn't want to spend my maternity leave searching for a new job instead of enjoying my time with my baby boy. So I decided they're going to have to escort me out the door of The Californian.

It's been three weeks since I returned from maternity leave and this morning I welcomed the escort service. Our executive editor offered me a part-time gig, but it was more economical for me to take the severance check and look for work full-time than to work part-time for a lower hourly wage and have less time to look for work. I thanked him Friday for the offer, but like on “Who Wants to be a Millionaire,” I'm going to have to walk away from the next question. God knows I don't know the answer and it seems the lifelines have been used up for newspapers. “It's been a good ride,” I told him.

More to come ...