It was always going to be a long day. We were awoken on the 18th deck of the Norwegian Escape by engine noise, particularly unusual as our room was forward on the ship. In an impressive maneuver, the Escape’s captain had backed her up on the pier at St. Thomas, USVI, in front of the Enchanted Princess. We had tickets for the gondola up to Paradise Point, a scenic overlook, the base of which is about a half mile walk from the pier.
If you take this excursion, prepare for a long wait. The line to get into the gondola was over half an hour, but as a US territory our regular Verizon service kept the kids entertained (yes, we gave them THE PHONES) without any extra fees. The ride is standing room only and does indeed provide a magnificent view of the richly verdant St Thomas and the surrounding azure seas of the Caribbean and Atlantic.
Paradise Point is something of an elaborate tourist trap that aggressively markets such overpriced libations as the “Bailey’s Bushwacker [sic],” which you should skip in favor of a frosty(TM) at the recently renovated Wendy’s at the bottom of the overlook. The bushwacker is advertised as a “chocolate piña colada” which really should be an indication that you should not get it, in spite of – or maybe because of – its total lack of piña and/or colada. Numerous tchotchkes and mediocre nachos were also available for sale. It was here we met a fellow tourist who, in her 50s, had inexplicably never heard the word “tchotchke,” which bodes poorly for us as tchotchke aficionados in our late 30s who enjoy cruising. Keep the AARP card warm for me.
At any rate, tchotchkes or not, the views were worth the cost of the ticket.
The kids, either unwilling or unable to appreciate the resplendence, were satiated by an oversized game of Connect Four on the point, which they played repeatedly despite not knowing at all how the game worked. If played by certain adults, the game could have been called “tariffs,” actually. This provided precious and brief time between our 3-year-old’s meltdowns to take some pictures and continue reflecting on my decision to spend $14 on Bailey’s, ice, and Kahlua.
Literally minutes after taking this picture I received a phone call from an unknown number that I ignored. The caller left me a voicemail, it was my manager’s manager’s manager calling me with some “important information.” I had an inkling as to what this was about, but didn’t have my work phone, and I couldn’t be sure. So I called back and it was the aforementioned 3x manager, my manager’s manager (the 2x), and HR. And sure enough, drink in hand, gazing upon the magical Wendy’s of the West Indies, I was cooked, or “RIF’d” in government parlance, albeit with a fairly generous severance package considering my short tenure.
I mouthed the words “LAID OFF” to Ashley who shot me a distinct “aw shit” look. I was hired to guide strategic decision making at the IRS with regard to their cybersecurity program, which I guess is no longer an area of interest for the part of the government that collects money. In a cruel irony, I had escaped multiple rounds of layoffs at my last employer and was optimistic about the stability provided by a company like MITRE (I accepted the offer before Trump’s inauguration). It was immediately, or maybe even before, I started that I felt like I’d perhaps made a mistake in joining given yet another round of “extraordinary times.” But MITRE, much like the rest of the country, were dealt a bad hand with Trump’s election. In fact, this wasn’t entirely a surprise; when talk of layoffs was picking up the previous week, I remarked in an internal team chat that if I were in a position of leadership at MITRE or any other federal contractor, I would be looking at people like myself (new, uncleared, an unapologetic exhibitor of dad humor and 90s karaoke) if I needed to quickly cut costs.
I’m angry and disappointed – not for my own career, which will survive, but that I too was summarily DOGE’d in the service of billionaires and our current president, noted adulterer and convicted felon. To be clear, I’m not against the idea of DOGE on principle, and would have been fine with being laid off had I worked myself out of a job. Maybe I would’ve earned a commemorative tchotchke for that one, maybe a novelty headstone adorned with a Shiba Inu. “Here lies Joe. He got DOGE’d.”
As for the vacation, we had paid for it full several months ago, so we enjoyed it. Norwegian Cruise Line took good care of us, as they always do. It was truly a “there’s nothing I can do about this right now, today, tomorrow, or this week” situation, and I was grateful to not be the one in the extremely unenviable position (dear Elon: laying people off is supposed to feel bad) of making the calls. Now that I’m back, it does sting in a more tangible way, but I’m ready to move forward, because that’s all I can do. I’m grateful that I got to work at MITRE. A quote from the great sage Jimmy Buffett is apropos here: “if life gives you limes, make margaritas.”
Anyway. This too shall pass. I didn’t waste any of the Bailey’s though. Consider that bush wacked.