Often when something upsetting happens people will try to cheer you up by explaining that “it’s not personal.” Being laid off from a job is not like being dumped by a boyfriend, the thinking goes. It’s not because there is something wrong with you, it is simply a business decision.
This idea is something that figures into my novel “Identity Theft.” Candi, the central character, works in an office that is downsizing and the management is doing everything it can to try to fire people without bruising their self-esteem too much, or at least to fire them without having to feel too guilty about bruising their self-esteem.
The thing is, I’ve never really understood why “it’s not personal” was supposed to make you feel better.
Of course, the downsizing is not being done to Candi, but it is certainly happening to her. Why is it supposed to be soothing for her to know that from the perspective of the institution she’s not relevant enough to be considered personally?
Often when an “it’s not personal” argument is invoked that is precisely what is painful about the situation. It hurts because you are given a big kick in the pants that says “you are not all that important.”
When people say it’s just a business decision, what they really mean to say, I suppose, is “you are valuable, just not to them.” There is some comfort in that, but it is something that comes later, after the initial sting has worn off. It says that you have to make your own meaning– force life to mean on your own terms. That is a process, and not a quick or easy one.
People do not only work for a paycheck. We work to feel that we are doing something that matters. That it is not personal to the world at large, when it is so personal to us individually, is a source of a lot of melancholy if not outright emotional anguish.
Dealing with “it’s not personal” is the hard part, not what makes it easier.