Phase 14: “You must be layink down on ze couch, Yah?” or 3 Months and Counting

WARNING! This one is kind of long. Fill your coffee mug before beginning!

             I just returned from walking the dog in the rain – trying to burn off some of his evidently endless supply of energy, and find that I am now as physically exhausted from the walk, as I feel psychologically exhausted by being out of work for three months now.

Having changed into dry clothes, brewed a pot of coffee, I sit down and try to catch up on HOUSE on the DVR. House is talking to his shrink. My chair is comfy, the coffee hot, the blanket warm, the wet dog is snoring next to me…

 “Vee vill begin now, yes…?”

What? Where? What is this place? I look around. I’m in some kind of office. Lots of books, the smell of leather, a clock ticking in the background somewhere. I realize I’m laying on a couch. There is some guy sitting in a chair next to me, smoking a pipe, writing on a pad.

           A shrinks office? Why am I in a shrinks office? I look around, I see a name plate – in ornate script – on his desk. Dr. Met Aphore, PhD,Psychiatrist. Must be Greek or something….

“Dat vood be de restraints...” says the good doctor.

“I have given dem names… On the left hant ees ‘Shame’ ”

“On de right hant ees hees brotter ‘Embarrassment’ “

“Down here on de left foot, ve have ‘Fear’ ”

“On de otter foot ve have hees  brotter ‘Confusion’ ”

“Ant across de middle ve have de tuffist one, ‘Apathy’ ”

“Vonce you have conquered dem all, you vill be able to get

 up on your own again.”

How come I can’t get up? I lie there… paralyzed by the lot of them; Shame, Embarrassment, Fear, Confusion and Despair? I don’t understand.

“Hmmm. I see…  Tell me about von of your dreams." (scribble, scribble, scribble)

      

     “Well, doc. Can I call you, Met? That’s a strange name… anyhow. Since getting tossed out like a dog, I can’t really say I remember any dreams at all.”

“No dreamink?" (scribble) "Vhat do you remember den.”

      I'm stuck here, I guess, I may as well play along with this quack.

      "I think mornings are the worst right after the alarm goes off.  I think if I didn’t need to get my kids up and off to school, I’d have spent the first couple of weeks in bed.”

         “Recently though, dreams and many times day-dreams, have come back, some disturbing, some hilarious, some nearly too vivid to describe… I wonder if its my body and psyche’s way of resetting itself, readjusting to the current situation.

“Yes, Yes. Veedy vell, now.... Vich are you? De keety, or de puppy?”

     What the hell is this guy asking? I hate these stupid questions. It’s like many of the interviews I’ve had over the past few weeks. So I ask Dr. Aphore, 

     “What do you mean, a kitty or a puppy?

“Vell, de keety is content. Eet likes to sleep all day in de sun, ant be served eets dinner een a dainty leetle deesh.”

“Vile, de puppy, though jeest as cute as de keety, ees alvayz, runnink, ant, playink and tryink out new tings. He ees not peeky, he vill eat hees food from anythink!”

“So, I ask you again… vich von are you?”

     Damn it! Why, CAN’T, I, MOVE? I try, but the restraints don’t budge. I guess I better answer his question. I relax. No point struggling I guess. Hmm, kitten or puppy.

     “I guess, puppy.” is that the answer he is looking for?

     He scribbles on his pad…

“Eentrestink.” (scribble, scribble)

“Try movink you arms.”

     I think about the past few months. I realize that there are times when you lose a job and you really have little to do with the decision. Hey, I can move my left hand… The restraint of Shame disappears!

     "Hey, Doc! Look I can move!"

     You know, we all define ourselves – no matter what we admit to – at least partially by what those closest to us think of us, we seek validation, that we are 'worthy' beings. 
      With the help of these people, I realize that I did nothing to warrant embarrassment. I broke no rules, I did nothing intentional to harm my company or anyone there. I take a deep breath… Hey, I can move my right hand… The restraint of Embarrassment is gone too! I sit my self upright…

     "Doc! Doc! Look, my arms are free."

“Vait, Vait, Vait… Vere are you goink? Vee are not feenished yet.”, he gently taps my feet with his pen.

“You said you are de puppy. De puppy needs trainink, needs deerection. Vhere do you get deerection.”

      Well, once I decided to move ahead, things have been very confusing. ‘Life is replete with crossroads.’ as the saying goes. Many of us who have been forced into this situation, find that the sudden on-rush of decisions is mind-boggling at best, crippling at worst. So, yes, the doctor is correct I need direction.

     Being honest now, I really haven’t had much. I know I want to step out and try something I will enjoy doing (what a concept I know, working at something you LOVE), yet as my unemployment stretches in to it’s third month, the need to pull in a pay-check is rapidly ‘directing’ me to go back to the traditional workforce, just to make ends meet. I hate it, but it may be coming to that, sooner rather than later.

     In many ways, I have made some strides in this area. I know I will find something… My left foot is free of Fear.

     "God, do you do anything but scribble! See my foot's free!"

     I have a sense of direction and am making some moves to make changes… My right foot is free of Confusion.

     "See, and this one too. I'm gonna go now."

     I try to stand… I hear the doctor chuckling, that chortle that people use when they know they must point out the patently obvious to the dolt in front of them….

“Ah, ah, ah. You. Are. Not. Feenished.” he looks squarely at the remaining restraint, Apathy. He scratches more notes on his tablet.

     Fighting hard, pulling against the restraint of Apathy still holding me to the stupid couch. I start yelling at him.

     “Let me up you quack! You don’t know what the hell you are talking about!”

     “Puppies, Kittens, Shame, Embarrassment, Fear, Confusion?” 

     “What the hell! You better not be charging me for this crap.”

     Why is he just SITTING there?

“Tsk, Tsk, Tsk. Gettink angry vill not help you….”

“See, you are de puppy, who needs trainink.”        

“De real challinch you face ees that you must be your own trainer.”

“Now, you can seet dar on de couch, and beech and moan and complain all you vant…but dat vill not defeat Apathy."

     Jeezus, is this guy for real? I wonder what on-line college he got his degree from. I’m exhausted from trying to get up from his stupid couch. To get away from this agonizing introspection. I want to leave. Like all good shrinks, he just sits there, waiting, quietly, for me to come to my senses. Panting with mental effort, I look at him…with one remaining strap of limitation pulling me back.

     “What am I supposed to do?”

        

“Vell, now dat you have settled down. I vill tell you.”

“You need a plan. A training plan for your future ‘puppy’ ”

     "A plan. Wow. Now why didn’t I see that before?", a light slowly comes on. It seems to be a square shaped for some reason. I have noted in other posts that our lives are defined by cycles and schedules, the need to fill our days with worthy activity.

     I now realize that moving ahead will require more than just effort, more than just admitting weaknesses and rediscovering strengths. If I want to get back to a life where work has both personal and economic meaning, I do, indeed, need a plan. The real challenge is that I am VERY good at plans, yet not often so good at their execution.

…

…

…

     The light gets a little more defined. I wake up, in front of the TV, with an episode of House playing...on the DVR. The episode where he’s talking with his shrink.

     I also realizing that at some point Hershey the 70 pound Lab, had climbed onto my chair…. Laying squarely upon my stomach.

     Hmmm. Dream discussions with a shrink that somehow end up focusing on puppies? Once again I heave his snoring carcass to the floor, and I get up, stretching all the way.

     Maybe I need to get rid of this stupid ... or the T.V. ...., or the Dog… No, NOT the dog. He loves me no matter what kind of job I don’t have, besides where ever would he sleep unless he has a lap he can nap in…

Phase 13: The Job Fair Experience or "The Cattle Drive of The Jobless"

    Yesterday I had the chance to relive an experience that I had not had since leaving college - the Job Fair. I had forgotten what a cattle call this type of event can be. In past posts I have outlined the unemployment experience as that of the hunter of the Newjita (see Phase 4) and of the dejected and unwanted stuff on the bottom of a shoe (see Phase 11).

    So, arriving earlier than I thought necessary, I found myself leaning against the wall of the building, waiting with the growing mass of people to get into the facility. As I was aimlessly spinning through songs on my MP3 player, I discovered quite hilariously, at the lyrics from the old classic T.V. theme song ‘Rawhide’ was the perfect way to frame the day. So, here we go.

Keep moving, moving, moving

Though they're disapproving

Keep them doggies moving

    Starting with the setting for the event, let’s just say that putting several thousand unemployed job seekers together is a challenge, but they put us at the county fairgrounds! It should be noted, that they did not put us in the snazzy new downtown facility, or the downtown convention center – both of which would have handled the crowd. No. We were put where they put the cattle and hogs and other such critters. So, there I stand with the other ‘cattle’ being herded into lines, separated by those with ‘golden-tickets’ (they get to go in first) and the rest of us, waiting, waiting.

     Suddenly, a shadow passes over me, cast by something high up in the sky. A buzzard. Yes, a real actual BUZZARD! No. Not one, but a half dozen, circling over the crowd of ‘cattle’ down below. My mind began to spin images of the lot of us unemployed masses, laying bloated in the morning sun, with Buzzards plucking at our eyes… I couldn’t help but laugh – some of my fellow cattle looked at me, when I did, “What’s he got to be laughing about?” their eyes seemed to say.

Don't try to understand 'em

Just rope, throw and brand 'em

Soon we'll be living high and wide

    Standing in line, waiting, waiting, it seems that about half the time spent job seeking is spent waiting – I look around at my herd mates trying to get a sense of the ‘typical’ unemployed person. In a sense, where do ‘I’ fit in to the picture. The picture is not as I had expected. About as many men as women, people of all races, and, by overheard conversations, a whole variety of backgrounds, education levels and work experience. What was troubling was the number of people my age (46) or older, many, many people I would have considered of retirement age at least. This last group, I discovered, have been forced back into the workforce out of need, not because they want to work. Many coming back out of retirement to work, just to get by.

     I know I have had my stereotypes regarding what it means to be unemployed, but one thing that jumped out to me was the presumption of poverty, and need. I NEED a job, I do NOT need any of the following (all of which were offered as we stood in line) : Section 8 housing, reduced rent apartments, free child care, food stamps, Goodwill clothing coupons. I’m not there…yet. I felt prejudged, again. All I need is a job.

Move 'em on, head' em up

Head 'em up, move' em on

Move 'em on, head' em up

     Moooo! Maaaaa! I push and shove, ever so kindly into the gaping building, very much akin to a slaughter house. I stop at the front table to get registered (branded?) and move maze like among over 100 booths, all hopeful of, of, something. An interview? A job offer? A modicum of victory over the beast of unemployment? The reality of the event is not quite what I had expected. In fact in many ways was very disappointed. Calling the event a ‘Job-Fair’ was humorous at best, a bad joke at worst.

     Let me say here that I do not fault the idea and effort of the hosts of the event, but with over 100 booths there were less than a dozen actually offering jobs. For the most part the booths filled with actual employers all made rather loud proclamations like this, "Look, people, I am not a hiring agent. In fact we do not have any openings at this time. But, please take this application, fill it out and turn it in with your resume, and we will get back to you." WHAT? Then why the heck are we HERE? Why the heck are YOU HERE!!! 

     I would have THOUGHT that in order to be part of a JOB-FAIR you (as a company) should be REQUIRED to be HIRING!!!!! Is that too much to ask? And, it just gets better, there must have been a dozen insurance companies on hand - selling their wares as much as looking for employees. Schools, training centers and a host of new junior colleges were also recruiting students (though NOT, I might add offering free education, or training). As you can  imagine this was a ripe crowd for the military to recruit and I saw everyone but the Marines and the Navy - not much help to the bulk of us over 42 (the cut-off age for military service, as I discovered).

Cut 'em out, ride 'em in

Ride 'em in, cut 'em out

Call 'em out, ride 'em in

Rawhide

     The other busy booths were not busy because they offered work, but because they had tables full of cool swag, and chocolate - we are human anyway and like free and food no matter what the excuse for drawing us cattle in!

     As I wandered here and there, I suddenly realized that my chances of ending the day with a job were about as good as had I stayed at home and surfed the job boards on the net, which oddly enough is where nearly all the businesses at the fair were directing us anyhow... "Well, we don't have a listing of current openings, but if you go to our web site....." 

     Then why the hell have a job fair! 

Rolling, rolling, rolling

Rolling, rolling, rolling

Rolling, rolling, rolling

Rolling, rolling, rolling

    After the first couple of hours of smiles and handshakes, resumes proffered, business cards accepted and swag collection. I sat down at one of the central tables where all my other cattle-friends sat dutifully scratching out over and over again; name, address, education, employment history, references…yadda, yadda, yadda. I sat there looking at the stack of similar papers in front of me and realized that the event should have been called the ‘Green-Job-Hunt’ instead of a ‘Job Fair’ because all the event seemed to do was gather companies and the unemployed, in one location, dump us together and simply exchange the same info that we would do if we were to go door to door.

     When I gave into the reality that I would leave the event just as unemployed as I had entered I began to listen and observe the experience of the others in the hall. Some comments amazed and shocked me…

Woman: “Shoot! I quit my last job ‘cause I had to drive like 20 minutes.”

Man: “I’m not taking any job that don’t pay $20 an hour, at least.”

Woman: “Man, my old boss made me work ‘till 3:00! He knows I had kids to pick up! I can’t work to no 4:30. And I ain’t paying no babysitter.”

Man: “Man, I want to apply for at least 60 jobs today, I don’t care if my fingers fall off from writing.”

Woman: “I’ll apply for anything. I’ll start right now if you want me to.”

Man: “I’m a 25 year pipe-fitter. I ain’t working at no Wendy’s.”

Woman: “I’m only here because my Momma’s gonna kick me and my kids out of her house if I don’t a a job. That just ain’t right.”

Man: “If I don’t get a job soon. I think I’ll start drinking ‘till I run out of money.”

Amen, brother! Pour me one too….