Judging by the title, those who actually read this blog may note that work has been somewhat of a roller coaster these past couple of weeks.  First I had the happy news that I had been fast-tracked into the union and would be extended into January.  I'm feeling secure, finally, and then I arrive back to my desk after lunch last Thursday to discover a letter placed on top of my existing paperwork, reading that I had been terminated, effective November 24.  That is tomorrow folks.  Well, suffice it to say, there were many tears.  Our agency is crossing over into government territory now and this is my first taste of Department bullshit.  Our executive director didn't even have the decency of advising my supervisor before dropping the bomb.  And so a grievance has been filed by my union because I was not given 10 days notice.  And the executive director has now offered me a casual position starting Monday which is more of the same bullshit because it offers no stability.  At least I have the support of my colleagues and supervisors, and even words of encouragement from the legal field.  One of our agency lawyers even phoned to offer herself as one of my references.  Oh it is a nasty bit of business.  And the executive director is a most unpopular fellow.  One of the supervisors Rick called him Dough Boy.  And he really does resemble Pilsbury's famous spokesperson!  Nick and Rick are trying to rally my spirits, saying that they will continue to fight to keep me in the ranks because they don't want to lose me to the west.  Which by the way has already been in touch since I submitted a resume two nights ago.  Oh I will land back on my feet.  I always do.  Maybe a little worse for wear but then I always think of what my clients put up with, and that helps to put things in perspective.  Sigh.  I really do have the worst luck I think. 

Oh yes, and Ryan is no more.  Hmmmmm . . . is God trying to tell me something??

The day had to come eventually.  Apprehension.  It sounds so sinister.  Yesterday I and another colleague found ourselves parked outside of a unit on Uniacke Square.  For those of you who may not be familiar with Halifax geography, I can only describe Uniacke Square as a cesspool of violence and drugs.  Marie-Josee and I knocked on the front door several times before concluding that mom was not at home.  Marie-Josee made a couple of calls and mom and both of her children were soon located at a nearby clinic.  We pulled up to the clinic and advised her that her daughters were coming into care.  Her response was eerily calm: "Okay."  We met with her back at her unit and she packed what she could for the girls.  The oldest was sobbing, the younger toddling about, showing off a new necklace.  The details must be spared for reasons of confidentiality but suffice it to say that it was by far the most difficult thing I have ever had to do thus far in my newfound role as social worker.  I fulfilled the stereotype yesterday and that was not a good feeling.  Oh sure mom was a drug addict whose lifestyle choices were putting her children at great risk, both physically and emotionally, but how do you explain to a little one that mommy cannot take care of her and that she has to go away for a little while.  They have a lovely foster parent and I am sure they will settle in once the shock has worn off.  And we will continue to work with mom so that a reunion can be possible.  Unless you do this kind of work, I don't think you can appreciate how emotionally taxing it is. 

On a much brighter note, I have been fast tracked into the union and so I feel a bit more secure as our agency prepares to transfer over to the Department of Community Services.  And I will very shortly have benefits. 

More good news.  I have a new cat.  Her name is Becca and she is lovely and serves as a good companion.