Ax finally falls as word 'jobless' hits home

This week, our number came up on the roulette wheel of unemployment.

Our girls were caught off guard. They came home from school and rushed into my bedroom.

"What's going on?" they said suspiciously.

"What do you mean?"

"Dad's home. His truck is in the driveway."

"Oh," I said.

We'd been expecting this to happen for so long, I'd almost forgotten they'd left for school by the time it did.

Just then, their father appeared in the doorway.

"The office is closing," he explained. "I'll be out of a job by the end of January."

Once assured that, "No, we wouldn't be moving," and most everything in their lives would not be disrupted -- at least, not in the foreseeable future -- they went on with their day as usual.

And surprisingly, so have we.

On Monday, my husband was one of 400-plus employees of the Troy ad agency BBDO Detroit who was given notice the office would close.

For the last 13 years that Chris has worked there, the workforce of 2,000 faced perpetual rounds of layoffs.

Chrysler was the firm's biggest account, and each new owner of Chrysler -- DaimlerChrysler AG, Cerberus Capital Management LP and now, of course, the merger with Fiat -- brought new budget cuts to the office.

Every few months, a row of dominoes fell. Whole floors of the office building emptied out. Men and women carrying boxes full of personal effects to their cars became commonplace. The parking lot began to sprout weeds -- the white-collar version of a shuttered factory.

Several times, Chris came home, ashen-faced, bracing for the next morning's round of forced departures. Those with a death sentence would get an e-mail by 10 a.m. asking them to report to their supervisor. The kids started calling him James Bond for his narrow escapes from the firing squad.

Each morning, my husband would leave for work, saying, "Could be today."

So when he came home mid-day Monday, there was a surprising sense of relief, like an exhale.

Of course, there was lots of swearing. Lots of venom directed towards corporate. You can't fly in a head honcho from Manhattan to dismiss a tremendously overworked, loyal group of employees, professing, "There's nobody I'd rather go to battle with," and then not expect them to question the arrogant disregard of such a statement.

So is my husband angry? You bet. Entitled to punch his fist through the wall? Sure.

But the greater motivation to rise above this loss is probably going to win out.

In part, it's because we are so not alone. Michigan's unemployment rate was 15.4 percent as of September. A new study from the Pew Center says we're slated to lose one-quarter of all the jobs in the state before the end of the decade. It bears repeating: 25 percent of all jobs. It was bound to be our turn sooner or later.

We've only to look at what others have endured -- cancer, broken marriages, seriously ill children -- to put this into proper perspective.

Maybe it's our turn to show our mettle, to be an example for our kids. Maybe even redefine what we're capable of. Because sometimes you never know until you are forced to try.

My father was the ultimate optimist. He'd wake up every morning with boundless enthusiasm for a new day. Even well into his 80s, I'd ask, "Dad what are you doing today?" And he'd bellow, as if revving up for the enormous possibilities that lay ahead, "You never can tell!" And then he'd whistle, all the while fixing his breakfast.

So, I think that's what we're going to do -- be open to possibilities, to whatever and wherever lay ahead.

mkeenan@detnews.com">mkeenan@detnews.com (313) 222-2515