Letting go of a job

A friend of mine has been let go from his job recently. When he had his last week there, at a different section than what he used to work for, he sent me this - very descriptive - email:

I enter the corridors, gaze at the pigeon holes.
In every shelf there are piles of paper, envelopes, newspapers etc. – only not in mine. I bend down to take an extra look, perhaps there's something there, tucked in at the back?
Nothing today either. I only see the reflection of my eyes in the enamelled, unused woodwork.
I shuffle through the corridors.
Look into every office, people smile, greet me, then bury themselves in heaps of paperwork. Their shelves swell like silicon-filled bras.
Every office has a name, a title, a "private" atmosphere. Until I reach one office, naked, a desk with 4 sheets of paper on and a temporary nametag haphazardly stuck to a sign – that's where I live.

I sit down at the desk, wonder what's in todays e-mail. Stare at the folders to the very left, that bear witness of an active guy with a lot of contacts and a lot of work.
Today my mail list consists of one advertisement, showing cheap flights to Amsterdam or Armenia – no return. And that's all the mails I get on this beautiful working day!

I watch my work cell phone (to be delivered) and the permanent one. Then I check them out again, are they even connected??? Yes, they're both working, but the last time one of them called was this morning – a private call. Before that? I almost don't remember what ring tone I've got after a week at this office.

How strange, to know I'm alive, to know I exist, yet have a feeling others don't share this knowledge...............

He's now in among the last group for a different job. I so hope he'll get it!