This is not a good time to be a state employee.

Caught in a hellish tug-of-war between Gov. Lingle and our unions, we feel confused, disheartened, powerless and victimized.

I work for the Department of Business, Economic Development and Tourism. I'm 67 and have been with the state for 31 years. No, I am not a "lazy state worker." I haven't missed a full day of work on account of illness in my entire professional career. Like all state workers, I am aware of the crisis and am willing to make sacrifices.

When the governor asked us to take three furlough days off a month for two years — a 13.8 percent pay cut— many people were unhappy and felt that two days were better than three, but most were OK with this.

Then, we were told that if Plan A — the furloughs — was stopped in court, the governor would resort to Plan B — layoffs. What's more, management could ignore seniority and get rid of whomever it chose.

This announcement was met with stony silence. Because if there's any word that strikes terror into the heart of an employee, it's the word "layoff." Morale at DBEDT was sinking even lower, with anxious employees sharing the latest news of the battle.

About this time, I attended a union meeting, which was highly cantankerous and ended with a screaming match between the union representative and the rank-and-file. We told the representative that we were losing the PR battle, that the general public was seeing us as "greedy and uncaring" and unwilling to do our share to help with the enormous deficit. And those remembering the "L" word felt that we should have accepted the governor's proposal. There were grumblings about quitting the union.

Then good news: a union victory! No furloughs. What now? When the unions offered only a 5 percent pay cut and no furloughs, we felt that this would not be enough. And we were right.

We then learned that 40 out of 95.5 positions at DBEDT would be eliminated — managers included. This was a shock. The entire department would be in danger of disappearing.

Bumping rights would be observed. But it still meant that, if you wanted to keep your job, you would be forced to "fire" a possible friend and colleague. No one spoke as we headed back to our desks.

July 17 was "Bloody Friday" for state employees. The governor and her cabinet would take two furlough days, in addition to a 5 percent pay cut.

Plan B was now in effect. I visited staff of the DOA's Aquaculture Development Program. Their boss had just told them that four out of six positions would be eliminated, essentially wiping out the 30-year-old program.

Back at my desk, just before noon, the phone rang.

"Richard, it's Ted Liu (our director). I would like to see you in my office." And, a moment later: "I'm sorry, but your position has been eliminated," he told me.

Staff were reluctant to answer their phones. For some, it would not only be the end of their career, but the end of their entire branch or program.

For me, this is not a tragedy, as I had planned to retire in 2009. I could easily bump someone, but I refuse to do this. Why deprive someone much younger of a job?

An agreement may be reached, but the damage has already been done. Those people and divisions whose jobs were lost now know their value — or lack of it — to their bosses. If bumping occurs, colleagues of bumped employees are not going to easily forgive and forget.

Why didn't the governor and unions start negotiating sooner? Why weren't they holding informal discussions to reach an agreement?

I know that layoffs will be a disaster for state-worker families, and that will negatively impact our economy even further. State government will be severely impaired.

Both sides need to work night and day to put an end to this contentious debacle that is rapidly developing into one of the darkest periods in the recent history of Hawai'i.

C. Richard Fassler is an economic development specialist for the state Department of Business, Economic Development & Tourism. He wrote this commentary for The Advertiser.