The Last Supper

The Last Supper The Last Supper I had heard the gossipy tidbits that there were more cutbacks to come at Forbes, yet given that my compensation as a journalist was at the base of the newsroom chain of command, I felt certain I would not be a casualty.Further confirmation of the way that I was crucial sat on my work area: a greeting from Steve Forbes himself to a gathering for the African business analyst turned-writer Dambisa Moyo, whom I was meeting about her new book Dead Aid. It didn't bode well to welcome me to a gathering and afterward lay me off. Or on the other hand so I thought.As I sat at my work area gazing at the greeting, I fantasized that Steve would approach me at the gathering and shake my hand, adulating me for all my difficult work in the course of the most recent two years. He would express gratitude toward me for keeping the site's perusers returning for more and upgrading the Forbes brand. He would even congratulate me for my boldness despite the past December's cutbacks and would murmur not to stress - he had everything leveled out. My activity would be safe.Then the telephones begun ringing. One of the overnight editors in our group got the telephone and stated, Better believe it, I'll be there as soon as humanly possible. There had been murmurs regarding rebuilding and changes in the newsroom since the magazine and the site had combined. Still I wasn't stressed. [more]Posted by Ruthie Ackerman, RecessionWire.comRecession Briefing 4.16The Pre-Interview ChecklistLove in the Time of Layoff: Coming Home Again