Well, wouldn’t you know it? Just got pink-slipped from Sikorsky Aircraft at 11 AM sharp this morning. Guess even helicopters with names like “Comanche” can’t outrun Uncle Sam tightening his belt. Feels like I just got ejected from the cockpit, with only the emergency chute of unemployment to break my fall.
Next steps? Buckle up, because it’s gonna be a bumpy ride. Unemployment paperwork first, then the thrilling adventure of finding a new home (suggestions welcome, unless you want me crashing on your couch – and let’s be honest, my snoring is basically a mini-Blackhawk taking off). Speaking of crashes, gotta offload some stuff I can’t take with me – trusty computer, comfy bed (perfect for existential naps), and my mountain bike (because who wants to cry into their pillow when you can cry into the wind?). If anyone knows someone in the market for slightly used dreams and adrenaline machines, hit me up.
As for Sikorsky’s big cheese, Steve Finger, he sent us a fancy email this morning that basically said, “Sorry, folks, gotta let 100 of you go. But hey, at least 200 got lucky and just got shuffled around like deck chairs on the Titanic!” It’s like they ripped the rug out from under us, then tried to sugarcoat it with a sprinkle of “redeployment.” Newsflash, Steve, being “reassigned” to a different deck chair on a sinking ship doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.
So, yeah, that’s my life story for the next chapter. Wish me luck, folks, and maybe send some pizza my way. This unemployed pilot is gonna need some serious emotional refueling.
P.S. If anyone’s got any leads on a job that doesn’t involve flying paper airplanes or dodging budget missiles, I’m all ears (and eyes, and probably my nose at this point).
Boneshakerbike 
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