Phase 12: "Dealing with the Wooglies" or Life without a schedule

Am I coming down with something?

    As I walk through the world of the unemployed, I have had this weird, pit-of-the-stomach feeling that has been hard to de-cypher. It usually hits me first thing in the morning. I get up - not to the alarm - my body seems to wake me about the same time of day no matter what. 
     I wander sleepily through the house. It's just after 6 A.M., my wife has already left, in the dark, for the bus stop to begin her 90 minute trip to work. I then go room to room waking the boys for school, they move much slower than I do, for some reason age has not allowed me to sleep the sleep of the dead as teen-agers seem to do. I still feel sick to my stomach. I head downstairs to make coffee. Maybe a bagel will settle what ever is going on inside. 
     I still can't quite figure what is wrong. I think about it as I warm my hands over the toaster - chasing away the morning chill of the kitchen. At first I thought it was the flu, then I thought it was some reaction to my medication, then it hit me... It's the Wooglies!


Enter the Wooglies!


     Ah, what are the Wooglies, you ask... You have had them, we all have! We call them by different names, but the feeling is the same... They are akin to the 'Butterflies' that people get when they are nervous. But the Wooglies are different...they are driven by confusion, fear, despair, and uncertainty. And, for me they are time-dependent. They seem to show up for an hour or two every morning as I go through all the awful things associated with being unemployed. Despite all the things I do, I can't seem to start the day without them.
      I've come to realize that what is missing in my in my life is the regimentation and routine that come with 'the daily grind'. The 9-to-5 that we so often bitch about is what defines the structure of our days. From the time we are born, we have been conditioned to live by the clock. Think about it. If some one came to you and said...'You're fired, go home, and don't come back.' Think about it... Think of all that would mean to you and your individual situation... Soon you will be experiencing the Wooglie moment.
The thing that is different for those of us without jobs is that we can no longer push back the Wooglies away from our consciousness as easily as those of us with jobs to do. Jobs fill the cracks in our pshche through the which the Wooglies get in and start messing with our brains.


"A schedule...is a net for catching days." - Annie Dillard


      So, I managed to get the kids to school and then back home where I, along with the dog curled up in my chair and began to ponder the day. I hadn't bothered to even turn on the television, radio or even start the coffee pot. I just sat there... in my chair... with the dog... and the ever growing mass of Wooglies invading my mind. What to do? What to do? Laundry? No. Walk the dogs? No. Hey, I could do the dishes! No. Sweep the floor? No. Every new suggestion hatched another Wooglie who did it's best to convince me to stay put, unproductive, in my chair... 'Go to sleeeeeep!' They say... 'Go to sleeeeeep!' So,  I did.
     Thankfully our bodies have needs and the call to nature woke me up about an hour later. I pushed the lump labrador of my lap. Shook off enough of the Wooglies to get up and make my way to the bathroom. As I was showering away the sleep, I realized that without a job, or without something 'productive' to do with our time...we modern humans are lost. Lost to the whim of the Wooglies. We wander aimlessly trying to fill the time with SOMETHING. 
     This experience is giving me a better understanding of two groups of people, 'housewives' (or husbands) retirees. I now see why many people who retire live short lives. God, it's so simple. Suddenly after a 20, 30, 40 (or 5!) years some one decides that it's time for you to go. Pack it in. Sail off into the sunset, or what ever descriptions you want to use, it's all the same. You leave one day, go home. And the next, you have no where to go. This expanse of empty time opens in front of you, like a cliff, and it's almost debilitating, the emptiness, suddenly your time is your own, but it's worthless...no one wants it! Man talk about food for suicide!


Again... "A schedule...is a net for catching days."


    So, it appears I need a new net. I need to create a new meaning for myself. I find this is the bane of the self-employed - possibly one of the reasons so many small businesses fail... The owners lack the ability to structure their new found 'freedom'. Why are we surprised! We are not RAISED to be independent (though we like to THINK so) we are raised to follow instructions, to grow, learn, to become good enough at something to get a job, where we are further molded into 'good workers'. Very few of us actually step completely out of the hampster-wheel of schedule dependence into the world of the independent work -- where you make your own net, one day at a time. I think this is where I am right now. I have dealt with the stuff that I am leaving behind and discover which kind of structure (schedule) I will develop as I go forward. 

Phase 11: T+2 months-"Of Dog Poop, Coffee & The Magic 8 Ball"

      Allrighty then, the second month anniversary of my current unemployment situation passed with little fan-fare almost a week ago. No one threw a party, no one gave me a present, nobody outside my own body even seemed to care. So I thought I would take a bit of time on this cool evening, on the porch, with just the glow of my laptop and the snoring dogs to keep me company.

Number of days without job: 62 (9 weeks)


According to the wonderful people at the Bureau of Labor Statistics (man, and I used to think janitor was a bad job) a person is not considered to be  in the category of the 'Long Term Unemployed' until you reach 27 weeks. So, while I'm not quite there yet, it doesn't seem that far off. It's a puzzlement to me that as a society we seem to value 'employment' as a validation of our existence, a way to define our worthiness to others, and to an extent our selves.... SO, why do we have programs which seem to put off helping people until they are in dire need?

NOTE: what appears below was added after I fell asleep peacefully on the front porch last night comforted by the sounds of spring in the city, birds, cars, motorcycles, sirens, thumping cadillacs, ah...city life.

Number of jobs applied for: 103 (91 on-line, 12 in person)

    As I mentioned in earlier posts, the process of job hunting can be daunting, terrifying, embarassing, humiliating even. What I have further discovered about the process is that the actual response you get as a job hunter is tantamount to watching some one step in dog poop. There are three basic responses to the poop (job hunter) that is on the shoe (or door step) of the employer. First, the employer can step in it and keep on going - this by far the easiest this is the 'no response' method where you never hear anything at all. Second is the cursory glance that the employer gives upon realizing that he actually stepped in something, and yet he just keeps on going, this is the 'electronic form letter' method). Third, the inquisitive stepper. This employer actually stops to look at what he stepped in, might even swear at the inconvenience of the event, and after some examination finds something with which to scrape the offending substance (or applicant) from his shoe before moving on. This is the employer who will have his secretary call, or pen an actual letter that is sent in the mail informing you that you are not wanted.
    The second two don't bother me near so much as the first one. I think that if a person takes the time to jump through the myriad of hoops to apply for a job - any job, the LEAST a company could to is send a letter....and in this letter they should be required BY LAW to tell you EXACTLY why you were not hired... Sometimes we forget that now more than ever employees can, in a few keystrokes find out nearly every thing about you -- stuff you may have never known, or even forgotten! So, with that kind of information, they should let you know why you were not chosen.

Number of cups of coffee consumed while trying to maintain my sanity: 240+/- (somedays are worse than others)

     For those who know me, this is one of the things that is a 'normalizer' for me. I can handle almost any crisis, situation, disaster, pain, suffering, agony, defeat or other bad thing, if, somewhere along the way I can have  cup or two of really good coffee.... Sometimes even awful coffee will fit the bill, if the company I am sharing it with is right too! I don't know why, but even when I have been up, depressed and heading for an interview for a job as a Truck Driver, Shipping Dock Clerk, Insurance Salesman (yuck!), Technology Coordinator or Fast Food Manager, (yes, these have all been done during this time) the simple act of making a fresh pot of coffee, taking the time to sit down with a cup before I leave some how armors my spirit for the next confrontation.
     Currently, too, I have begun pursuing some work-from home efforts and I find that getting in the habit of starting the day with a fresh pot of coffee in my garage/office, somehow makes me fell human, worthy, important to a degree, and seems to help me get from one unemployed moment to the next.

Number of hours spent in the company of good friends: hmmm 100 or so maybe more


    I cannot say it enough, and I am sure it is the same for many people in trying times, when it comes down to it, what matters is having people who are willing to listen...not necessarily to solve all the issues, but just to listen. I am convinced that one reason people 'go postal' is because they have no one who they think will listen to them. BELIEVE me that thought bounced around inside my skull like a B-B in a barrel many, many times in the last few months, and were it not for key people, I am sure you would have been reading about me in the paper. I feel it is important for them to know who they are...so bear with the list; Cheryl L. (of course!), Cam, Mal, Jim, Tim, Cyndi, Dave O., Dave G., Kristen D., Kristen W., Randy, Ken Z., Liz, Sarah, Paul, Olaf, Ryan, Jamie D., Josh W., Alex, Cheryl H., Tom, Jody, and not to forget the ever faithful Ginger, Hershey, Gypsy and even Gipper. Were it not for these folks, and other random people who were too kind to tell me to shut the hell up!

If I were to look into The Magic 8 Ball what would it say?: "Outlook unclear... Ask again later."


    To summarize in 'Where am I now?' fashion I would say that I have made it to the point where I am hurt but not hurting, sad but not depressed, optimistic but not overconfident, still unsure about whether or not the light at the end of the tunnel is a train. I am sure of many things and uncertain of others. I am sure of the love of family, the support of friends, the need to be independent, the requirement to be a good role model, the necessity of being a provider and that the only way to get any where is to get up, dust-off and move on. Hopefully this journey will not continue too long, but even if it does, I know somehow I will not be allowed to pack it in and give up.

Phase 10: "No One Expects The Spanish Inquisition!" or Why does applying for a job make you feel like a criminal?

     Sitting here on Easter Sunday morning, in the quiet, trying to be thankful that, while unemployed, I am relatively healthy, still living in our home, and have a good chance of being employed, sometime in the future, I have been reflecting on the process of applying for a job, and have been wondering why, this process makes one feel like a criminal.
     As I was thinking about this I was also thinking about Monty Python, the old British comedy show that, through their well written skits, shed so much humor on many of the silly things we worry about in our day to day life. Then, quite suddenly, the connection smacked me in the mental forehead like a large mackerel swung by an armored knight from Monty Python...

"No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!!!"

    The hunt for a job these days can take two paths, electronic or physical. Which ever path you take to start your hunt, at some point you have to get cleaned up, and actually go to a potential employer, sit down at a desk, get out a pen and begin the process of filling out an application of some sort.
    This process is excruciating! For starters, think about the last time you had to write with a pen... not only write... but remember everything about your work history - in many cases going all the way back to your high school days. The process takes almost an hour and must be repeated over and over and over again, every time you apply. Painful, in oh so many ways.

"NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Amongst our weaponry are such diverse elements as: fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope, and nice red uniforms..."

     Yes, that's it! Fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency! For those of you who have not suffered this indignity in a while, I challenge you to go out and try it. Gather yourself, and go! First, scour the help-wanted ads. Find a job that seems to fit your skills. Re-write your resume to match said job. Get in your car. Fight traffic.  Get lost and finally arrive with moments to spare.
     I do al the above and walk up to the gates of the Inquisitor's castle to go in. No, it's not that easy. The door is electronically locked to keep out 'the bad people'. I push the button... "Hello. This is XYZ Incorporated. Please state your reason for being here."
     As I wait, I notice the ever blinking eye of the camera up high in the corner - where the riff-raff can't reach it - I count four blinks before the lock clicks.
     "Come in and go the counter on your right." I enter the building. I step to the counter, looking first to see if there is a line of tape on the floor reminding me to keep my distance, thankfully there is not, but it feels like there should be. I stand there, waiting, waiting. Finally the receptionist looks up at me.
"Hello, I'm here to apply for the ABC position."... And now it begins.
     The look of near-disgust,  in some cases even revulsion, from the 'Inqusitors Receptionist', like a leper had suddenly appeared in front of her desk. She rummages around her desk - clearly annoyed that I had interrupted her game of computer solitaire (that you can clearly see on the screen!) - and she hands me what appears to be a Magna-Carta-sized stack of papers... "You can go OVER THERE and fill these out." In other words.... 'Be gone!'

"Fear, surprise and most ruthless --- Oooooh! Now, Cardinal -- the rack!"

    So, I sit there staring at 'the forms'. Which after the typical contact information, they go into the 'Employment History' section... Most recent job...(blah), salary at start (small), salary at end (a bit bigger),  reason for leaving..... Hmmm. Here is where it starts.... I can see the 'Inquisitors' Assistant (receptionist) watching me like a dragon, her eyes just visible over the top of the counter...she glances at me, then back at her solitaire screen. How honest does one be when answering this question...
     Given the fact that you KNOW the new Inquisitors in the HR department will check it out, do you say something simple like, 'I was downsized', or 'I quit because if I had stayed I would have gone postal on someone, so I thought I'd save everyone the trouble', or 'I was terminated' (what a horrible word for losing a job - I mean after all they didn't really kill me), or because someone decided that I no longer 'fit the needs of the company'. Well, since the actual space they give me to write the story of my working life is less than that of a postage-stamp, I simply write, 'was let go'.
     'Lather, wash, rinse, repeat' -- most places I'm forced to go back at least three jobs, answering the same questions, forcing me almost certainly to do any or all of the following:
a) Make up dates, names, addresses or phone numbers of past employers whom I've long forgotten,
b) Go back to the Inquisitors Assistant and ask her for a phone book so I can look them up (I swear, at several of these jobs I actually saw a cat-o-nine-tails jutting out from her desk one time as she passed me the book),
c) Flip open my cell phone to call home to ask my kid to look up the information - at which time the Inquisitors Assistant stands, leering at me, convinced I'm some kind of terrorist calling in a bomb threat she paces, watching my every move.
      When I finally finish, I gather the forms and look them over... 'Oh, my God', my handwriting is awful! I'll never get an interview they can't possibly read all this tiny type!' Walking across the lobby I look out the window and realize that the morning has passed into afternoon, and I still have three more of these to go through today!

"Now, old man, -- you have one last chance. Confess the heinous sin of heresy, reject the works of the ungodly -- Uhh, two last chances. And you shall be free -- Uhh, three last chances. You have three last chances, the nature of which I have divulged in my previous utterance.

     O.K. so I survived the application interrogation, and was granted an 'audience' - interview. I return to the office and face the actual Inquisitor this time, who will pepper me with more questions. Again, even as I sit there, in my business-best, smelling of my  best cologne, in a well appointed office, why do I still like I have done something wrong?

"Right! If that's the way you want it -- Cardinal! Poke him with the soft cushions!"


    The questions come, mostly standard, but some, I have decided are worded purposely to throw you for a loop. Here are a few that I have experienced during the last few weeks of interrogations - err, umm, interviews. "If you were in Africa, which would you rather be, the Bengal Tiger or the Zebra?" - First, I had to stop my self from telling this brain child that Bengal Tigers are from India, not Africa, instead I asked him, "Am I a hungry Tiger or am I a fast Zebra?" - I oddly did not get called back for the job.

"Hm! He is made of harder stuff! Cardinal... Fetch... THE COMFY CHAIR..."
"... So you think you are strong because you survive the soft cushions. We shall see! Put him in the Comfy Chair!"

    This one is even better. At the end another inquisition - interview (damn, I have to stop doing that!) the interviewer slides me a paper and pen and says, "Write me a four line poem about your last job. When you finish leave it on my desk." -- this is true!!!! If you want, email me and I will share the poem with you!

"Now -- you will stay in the Comfy Chair until lunchtime, with only a cup of coffee at eleven!"
"I suppose we make it worse by shouting a lot, do we? Confess, Man! Confess! Confess!"

    As I sat in the parking lot after unfruitful interview #4, I was thinking to myself. 'Why do they make me feel this way?' Is it because as the 'unemployed' I have no control over anything? Maybe. Is it because they, the 'Employer' have the power to grant me a job? Jobs (as discussed in a previous post) that make us seem 'worthy' as part of the employed masses? Maybe. The more I think about it, I believe that employment is a cycle of madness.
    I think it goes something like this... 1) Get educated. 2) Hunt for a job. 3) Get a job. 4)Work (if you're lucky until you can retire). 5) Lose your job (become unhappy and quit, or, for some reason lose the job). Repeat Steps 2 thru 5 until you die. I know this seems pessimistic but is that all there is? If so, then there needs to be a way to make the entire process much easier.
      My coffee cup is empty.... I look around.... No Inquisitor.... I make my way back to the kitchen, refill my cup.... cross the kitchen... open the cabinet and grab two cookies.... "Hazzah! You think you have won, Inquisitor! I have coffee, cookies AND I am sitting in a VERY Comfy Chair!!!!"