Not a Bang, but a Whimper

The ad agency I was interning at closed yesterday.

Just folded like a five-dollar suitcase.  No warning.  I walked into work yesterday, the owner and hr lady brought me into her office and said "We're closing."  Oh, and "Let everyone know to come see me when they walk in."  What a happy job that was.

I didn't turn on the music in the lobby.
I didn't think this needed a soundtrack.

The past few weeks I had noticed some money problems and I wasn't expecting a job offer from the company at the close of the internship anymore, but I was expecting another month of looking for a real job.  My dad says this is almost better, now I can focus all my energies on me and stuff I need to do to get a job, instead of doing it in between shipping things or answering phones.  Which is true.

It was so strange to be there at the close though.  People who had worked there for years and had so much shit accumulated in their offices were cleaning them out.  Taking loads out to their cars.  Like they were suddenly evicted.

These experienced, older people are now in the same boat I'm in: unemployed.  They all wished me luck, it's a small town maybe I'll see you, handshakes.  The production guy, who was easily my closest friend there, said keep in touch, if I come across any writing jobs I'll let you know.  I don't say goodbye. Good luck.  The account guy said, oh I'll be fine, you stay in touch with the creative director.  The creative director said, yes send your stuff to me and I'd be happy to take a look at it.  (Was is my imagination -did he also say, I think you're a talented writer- )  And, sure I can give you a reference.

The mood is harder to recreate.

Even though I had my issues with that place and the work I was (wasn't) doing, I was still emotionally affected by the proceedings.  The expressions exchanged: surprise, resignation... fear.  The phrase, "Well, what are you doing tomorrow?"  I had little invested here, but I was still anxious and even kinda sad.  I had points of contention with the place, but I didn't want it to go under.

They had been in business for 30 years.

Many made phone calls to loved ones, spouses, parents,,, prospective employers.  My mom called me in the morning.  In hushed tones:  they're closing.  Today.  I'll be home early.

As I got off the elevator for the last time, I thought it resembled a star in the process of dying.  But not a supernova, the other way, whatever that is.  Not an explosion, not angry, not a bang.  But a fizzle, a disintegration, a whimper.