1. Re-write and post your CV for the 23rd time this morning, ensuring it plays up the talents and skills you have acquired riding this little white-water raft of a venture whilst in no way associating your skills and talents with the imminent sinking of same. A tricky one, but if you don’t believe it can be done you should replace the Loftex experience with something less shameful. Like jail, for example. For shoplifting, perhaps.
2. Call the ever-diligent job agencies who chased you down with breathless urgency when you first posted your CV but haven’t, when you really think about it, actually initiated a call to you for some weeks now. You’ve been dumped, and those useless scumbags probably never had a job in the first place, they just wanted your CV to impress their would-be corporate clients of the calibre of people they could present to any given opportunity, though of course we’d be looking for someone with a better CV than this, someone with judgment that didn’t have the blemishes of a Loftex4…
3. Phone round your channels trying to establish whether they have (a) jobs for the likes of you or (b) money to buy out the likes of your so-called management team. Tricky to pull off without giving the game away, so you defer for another day. While they have even a small chance of (c) the huge deal that changes the whole shooting match, you have to carry on as if everything is OK. One day, though, the pleading call is going to give the game away, totally.
4. Do some web research on the symptoms of depression, stress, gastric ulcers, and various syndromes you think this gig might have given you. Locate and identify with various forms of psychosis. Identify most others with your work-mates. Send anonymous emails to the CEO labelled ‘Munchausen’ with no other words. Somehow feel better for that.
5. Check eBay for prices on remaining assets in the office. This doesn’t take long, so check history on other items that don’t belong to us but that the managed-service office company might take a few days to miss. Ascertain that total fire-sale will realise enough for about an eighth of your personal debt. Plot method for pulling off sale solo without any of your colleagues catching on until too late.
6. Seek the magical external funds required. All other avenues having (allegedly) been explored, you’re now limited to vegaspoker360.com or the Albanian state lottery. Fail the former’s credit check, the latter technically illegal in states banning pyramid selling. Draft the email for a 419 scam while you try and work out how the scam actually works once you have the bank details etc.
7. Weep. Not terribly useful but can be cathartic provided you keep the tears off your keyboard.
8. Swear and throw things. Again, not terribly useful and may further decrement asset base. Can feel damn good though, especially if breakages can involve electrical explosions.
9. Go through the mental rosary you’ve been going through these last few weeks – ‘Sue them, county court judgment, call in the fraud police, call the other shareholders, sue them , county….’ etc. etc. Like a lot of religious ritual, not one piece of it actually will fix anything but the fact of its repetition, and the other adherents repeating it, somehow seems to have a mystic power that may lead to fundamental change. OK, not really.
10. Blog. Actually, add to this one. New items for the list gratefully accepted. Come on, its not like you have anything useful to do, is it?
