I am a talker.

Yesterday, I witnessed my first execution firing.

The day started off normal enough - the victim employee, Francis (I changed the name because I'm friends with people I work with and don't want to get the reputation that I'll post your business on the internet - unless you do something really horrible to me, coworkers, then the gloves are off), was as usual, the first person in the office for the day. Looking back, I feel a bit guilty because...well...let's just say Francis wasn't my favorite person ever. As he drank his cup of coffee in front of my desk, waiting for me to finish my actual job duties - I remember thinking "Is this all you have to do in the mornings?" I guess so, because after I hung up my phone Francis began to tell me how three of the big-wigs from his department were coming to our campus (we are located about an hour and a half from our main location) - and how this was how people got fired, on a Friday afternoon during a last minute meeting.

Oh Francis, did you feel it coming? Or do you just have a sixth sense I should have been capitalizing on during your time here? Because sure enough, four hours later I find Francis carting off boxes of his things and said big-wigs waiting by the door to make sure our dear Francis left the building in peace. No goodbyes, no explanations - just gone.

I hate to say it - but the thing that upsets me the most about this whole situation is that I had no one to talk to about it all. I am not an internal processor. I am not a secret keeper. I am not a "mind your own business" kind of person. If there is something juicy, exciting or scandalous going on - I want to be the first to know and the first to tell other people. When something happens to me I think is especially note-worthy - I make three phone calls - one to husband, one to mom and one to one of my two best friends (not necessarily in that order, depending on the scenario).

Also adding to my bouts of excessive taking is what my high school Spanish teacher dubbed "verbal diarrhea." If I'm nervous, upset or excited in anyway - the flood gates of my mouth magically lose their kill switch. I'm not sure if it's an unconscious belief that I can talk my way out of anything - or a need to hear my voice to gain stability when I feel out of control...either way, I talk. A lot. Most of the time it's funny and helpful, but other times it can be like watching a slow moving train wreck - with no control to put things back on the right track.

I think it comes from a fear of loneliness. I know that sounds far-fetched - but I don't want to have to go through life and it's trials alone. I want to know what my friends think, in order to find out what I think - because I want to live the kind of life where I am not the ultimate authority and my experiences and thoughts are not the only ones that matter. I realize this is a thin line to walk, between giving people healthy influence and unhealthy control - but I have found it is most rewarding to know I am supported, that people agree and share with the experiences and decisions I'm making.

I am a talker. I don't want to live my life alone. I am just leaving work if my boss, her boss and the department chair ever tells me they're coming in for a "last minute meeting."