Well, it happened. Five months and seven days. 212 applications, nine first interviews, three second interviews and I am now employed again...
Thankfully,
Suddenly,
Finally,
I have re-connected with the working world. I can wake up in the morning, knowing that I have a new 'purpose', a new 'reason for being', I am 'worthy' again...
But, wait a minute... I have spent the time since losing my job trying to process the whole meaning of work. From the pain of losing a job, to the empty feeling not having anything to fill the void that a job usually does, to questioning my worth as a person because I didn't have work. These reflections, and the associated time free from the confines of the 'work-day' allowed me to examine many areas of my life and to really study how 'work' fits into the overall picture.
So, now, I begin afresh, I am embarking on a new adventure into the world of employment. I have taken the advice of friends and will continue my blog and change my focus a bit to encompass the whole notion of 'work' and the role it plays in our lives.
I have several goals and motives behind this new series of posts. Some relate to my on-going personal travels through the world of work, others I hope, will serve as examples to those who may be soon entering this mysterious world for the first time (read, high school or college grads!) to those who are re-entering the work force in new positions that may be unfamiliar or where they feel they may not quite fit in, given the variety of life experience we all bring to the table as employees.
As I prepared for the first day of my new job, my MP3 player was shuffling through songs and it hit on a Beatles classic, and I stopped, shampoo stinging my eyes as I and listened to the lyrics...
Woke up, fell out of bed,
Well, I didn't quite FALL out of bed, it was more like trying to pull myself off of one of those velcro-walls. Remember, for the past five months, I have had little NEED to get up early... I look at the clock - can't see it of course without my glasses - fumbling around, finding them, I refocus on the clock. "Christ, 5:15 A.M. ... What am I THINKING!?" Sitting up, trying to wrap my sleepy mind around what will become my new schedule - Getting up before the roosters. Am I INSANE for taking this job? Do I really NEED to work THAT bad? Duh, yes. I have been without a paycheck for almost half a year, living off a slowly dwindling pension from my previous job. I have bills to pay and a kid headed to private college in less than a month. Of COURSE I need the work. Standing up, in the dark cursing at all the stuff I trip on as I head to the shower.
Dragged a comb across my head
Cleaned and dressed with a quiet house I take a few moments to assess what the new job entails. A drastic change in my 'work-day' from the last months of the 'non-work-day'. Funny that. When I was out of work, many thought that I was NOT working. Nothing could be further from the truth. Besides the work involved in a job hunt (see Phases 4, 10, 15), I was able to get to many of the things we put off on a day to day basis -- because of our 'jobs'. So, now a couple of weeks into the training period for my new job, I find that there are changes -- again, ones that I have suddenly noticed.
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup,
In what is ends up being the only cool, quiet time of my work day - between 5 and 6 A.M., I get a few moments to sit on the back porch with a cup of hot coffee, watching the dogs chase whatever mysteries nature has seen fit to place in the back yard overnight, I consider how things are changing, and to be honest, I am not really happy about many of them.
With my day starting with the trek to work at 6:00 A.M., my work done in the heat of the day - hot attic spaces, cramped crawl spaces, attacks by squadrons of hornets, travel in vehicles without air conditioning. I return most nights around 6:00 in the evening, exhausted. Too tired to do much more than shower, eat a little dinner and hit the bed by 11:00 or earlier.
I think what bothers me is that during the last few weeks I had begun to get into a 'routine' of being unemployed. I know it doesn't make much sense, but looking back, I had filled the 'work-day' with other activities, that many would consider a waste of time, my artwork for example. With time to spare, during the day I had begun to make a push towards making my artwork pay as much as a 'regular job'. I had even begun to make bigger plans than ever before. I feel I was really ready to turn a corner, and then, WHAM !! I land a job. I got a job and was not sure that I wanted one. Now, please don't read into this that I am not happy to HAVE a job, to help pay the bills, etc., but a big part of my being didn't WANT one, does that make sense? I was finally on the road to making money doing something I LOVE doing and in a couple short weeks, I am seeing this vision fade, again, as I give in to the 'real-world' employment.
And looking up I noticed I was late.
Awake, check.
Showered and dressed, check.
Breakfast and coffee, check.
Time with the dogs, check.
Crap, I am forgetting something......
... Yes, I need to make a lunch.
Where's that dang lunch box?
How come there's no lunch food left in the fridges.
I look at the clock. No more time, I gotta go...
Found my coat and grabbed my hat
Made the bus in seconds flat
Well, not the bus, but zooming along in the early dawn, the drive to my new job is not that bad. NPR on the radio, coffee in the mug beside me, all crisp and clean and eager to get working. A new job, a new day, a new phase of my life, yet I can't shake the feeling that some how this is wrong..... It's the Wooglies again (see Phase 12). They have taken over, again. This time they make me feel almost like a coin-flipping schizophrenic as I drive along the way. In my head the Wooglies fuel my confusion,
"God, it's great to have a job! I am finally whole again!" the leaf-turing Wooglies say.
"What? You're pathetic! Your a sell out! Going back to the old routine!" the recently unearthed artistic wooglies reply.
"But, I have bills to pay, and I can do this work!", the leaf-turners continue.
"You're not gonna be happy! We have seen this pattern before. WHY are you such a wimp?" reply the artistic ones.
I pull into the parking lot of my new employer, "Jeezus! Would you two shut the hell up and leave me alone!" I shout to them - to no one in particular, except my self.
I park, grab my thermos, lunch box and a pen, ready for day one of my new job.
Found my way upstairs and had a smoke,
The first few hours of my new job reveal many things. First of all, I do NOT smoke. Seemingly I am the ONLY one of my three other 'trainees' that does not. Along with this, it seems that all the the other employees I work with DO smoke. As I have discovered, smoking occupies much of their time (more on that later). So, the first day of training goes on; pages and pages of paperwork, recitation of company policy and rules, introductions around the table of my fellow trainees. Interruption seems the norm in our first day, from employees consulting our instructor, our instructor sharing 'on-the-job-anecdotes', power-point presentations on company history, and perusal of the 'Training Manual', cigarette breaks, coffee breaks and before we know it, the day is over.
Somebody spoke and I went into a dream
Driving home was a different experience than getting to work! Let's just summarize it by saying two words; road construction. I think no matter where you live it seems that the population explosion of orange barrels has the ability to turn any drive into a pressure cooker, both of temperature and emotions. Even though my first day of work was relatively peaceful - indoors, in the air conditioning, not too taxing, the drive home set me to thinking of my new situation, as a way to keep from going into a fit of heat/construction induced road rage.
Calm, down, take big drink of the Slurpee, relax.......
So, I'm employed again, I have a job. I have meaning and purpose to my life. I am part of the 'good society'. I am productive. I provide for my family. I can help pay the bills. I get up, I go to work, do my job, drive home, eat, try to spend time with the family, go to bed early, fall asleep. I can dream now, but they are fitful ones.
They involve me on some kind of raft, drifting away from something, not towards anything, but, fading away, in the distance, once again, a small part of my dream of making art for a living. A dream that had started to emerge from the fog of my life. I reached for it, really hard this time. But at least for now, due to the immediate economic needs, that seem to be only met by 'traditional employment' they drift further away, again. They are clearer and nearer than ever before.
The next part of life's journey will be to figure out how to do both, with a strong eye on my goals, while still making ends meet.
If anything at all has come from this experience it is that HOPE is REAL, and that AMBITION does not have to give way to NECESSITY. The challenge is to figure out how to do what I love and get paid for doing it.
Now, THAT would be a JOB I could live with for a while.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Phase 19: Coffee break's over - Time to get back to work.
Well, I find myself in a weird transitional time here. I've been given a bout a week to transition between the world of unemployment that I have been in for the last five months, to the world of 'traditional employment'. I define 'traditional employment' as any paying gig that occupies the 8 hour hole that we define as work.
Having had plenty of time to think about this whole notion that we 'work', I have come to some new definitions and some new conclusions.
Life, is basically divided into three periods; Education, Work and Retirement. I know this is a very 'Western' view of life and that people in other places may look at this cycle differently. But since this is where we live, let's go with it.
I'm pretty sure that my first category is true no matter what society one is born into. We are born, nurtured by parents, taught by elders and prepared for adult life, to become productive citizens who can provide for our families, and through our work, secure comfort in our later years. Seems pretty simple, eh? Well, as we know it's a wee bit more complicated than that.
The Work part is not quite so easy to define or understand. Even in the most remote societies, people are expected to contribute to the community, those that don't are often culled from the group, left as outsiders either living off the fringes of the larger group - legally or illegally. Part of the problem in more modern times is that we define those who are either unemployed or who don't work within the framework of what the collective views as 'traditional employment' as outcasts, almost untouchables - to use the term from Indian caste society.
Busy with making our own ends meet, we, my self included in past times, look past these people, shaking our heads, shrugging our shoulders, and, if we are smart, we thank our lucky stars that 'we' have not become one of 'them'. But as I have found, as a result of the current economy, the line between 'us' and 'them' is precariously thin. I used to joke about it, but some one once told me, "Most people are two paychecks away from poverty." Not to be too over dramatic, but I found that in my case, it was not too far from the truth. Had I not had a decent sized pension fun to cash in, we may not have made it this far. I can now fully understand what it means to be on the edge of disaster. If this period of unemployment had stretched too much longer, we would have been in a bad way.
So, while I looked FOR work, I began watching people AT work. An interesting experience, but not one I would recommend for the casual observer. As I have mentioned before (Phases 2, 5, 10) not having a 'job' leaves serious practical and emotional gaps in our lives. As adults in American society, like it or not, we are defined by what we 'do', and doing nothing - as in being unemployed is unacceptable.
I watched my wife and others get up, do the morning thing, go off to their job, while those of use without work, do nearly the polar opposite. The stress of this process has been evident in my posts, though usually couched in humor, believe me the stress of being jobless has been difficult to handle at times. Thankfully, I, unlike many, have been blessed with family and friends who helped get me through the toughest days, and I would be remiss if I did not give them proper thanks - thank you one and all.
In my discussions and observations of both the employed and unemployed I have found some interesting peculiarities.
First, most people that ARE employed, don't like their job. The reason they keep on keeping on is very, very, simple - it provides a paycheck, and without a paycheck things get very, ugly, very fast.
Second, for the unemployed, their mental state depends on the length of unemployment. No, big surprise there but there seems to be a cycle that develops; shock, blame, relief, pursuit. The number of times an unemployed person goes through this, I believe, more it drags on your very spirit - these are the people that become the 'long-term' unemployed, those that have given up even trying to re-enter the 'traditional workforce' and I can understand much better than I did before.
Third, and this is the one I cannot figure out, for many who have lost their jobs, when the enter the 'pursuit' phase I see them trying (at least initially) to find employment doing something that they 'like to do, something they have always dreamed of doing' but they couldn't do this because they were tied to the paycheck offered by their 'traditional' job. The other thing I noticed over the last few months that a good many of the unemployed began seeking jobs in 'alternative' or 'non-traditional' fields - particularly in the arts! Past accountants now turning into ceramic artists, auto-workers picking up an a guitar and joining a band, downsized secretaries turning a love of cooking into selling home made salsa and former Technology Directors attempting to turn my love of art into a living. Strange that! It seems that many people who have been 'un-shackled' from tradition are suddenly free to express artistic creativity as a means of making living - outside the traditional confines of how we define 'work'.
Remember, that I said this is part of a cycle. I find myself at the end of the pursuit cycle and, realize that reaching this point has it's own dangers. I must confess that as philosophical as this discussion has been, the real and present need for immediate income is forcing me (once again) to push the more artistic dreams of making a living to the back burner. But, this time around, I understand the situation and plan on doing things a bit differently.
So, I have been offered a 'traditional job'. I start Monday. While I am excited at the prospect of earning money to pay my bills. I will work to keep sight of objectives to make a living creating and selling art work. Unlike past efforts, I don't plan on backtracking to the point where I was creating art just for fun. I, like many others in the same situation, have discovered that there is a real market for what we do creatively and that with good planning, marketing, development of networks, and etc. my vision of making money in the world of art is just as viable as employment in the 'traditional' world of work. It won't be easy, but that is the plan... today....
Having had plenty of time to think about this whole notion that we 'work', I have come to some new definitions and some new conclusions.
Life, is basically divided into three periods; Education, Work and Retirement. I know this is a very 'Western' view of life and that people in other places may look at this cycle differently. But since this is where we live, let's go with it.
I'm pretty sure that my first category is true no matter what society one is born into. We are born, nurtured by parents, taught by elders and prepared for adult life, to become productive citizens who can provide for our families, and through our work, secure comfort in our later years. Seems pretty simple, eh? Well, as we know it's a wee bit more complicated than that.
The Work part is not quite so easy to define or understand. Even in the most remote societies, people are expected to contribute to the community, those that don't are often culled from the group, left as outsiders either living off the fringes of the larger group - legally or illegally. Part of the problem in more modern times is that we define those who are either unemployed or who don't work within the framework of what the collective views as 'traditional employment' as outcasts, almost untouchables - to use the term from Indian caste society.
Busy with making our own ends meet, we, my self included in past times, look past these people, shaking our heads, shrugging our shoulders, and, if we are smart, we thank our lucky stars that 'we' have not become one of 'them'. But as I have found, as a result of the current economy, the line between 'us' and 'them' is precariously thin. I used to joke about it, but some one once told me, "Most people are two paychecks away from poverty." Not to be too over dramatic, but I found that in my case, it was not too far from the truth. Had I not had a decent sized pension fun to cash in, we may not have made it this far. I can now fully understand what it means to be on the edge of disaster. If this period of unemployment had stretched too much longer, we would have been in a bad way.
So, while I looked FOR work, I began watching people AT work. An interesting experience, but not one I would recommend for the casual observer. As I have mentioned before (Phases 2, 5, 10) not having a 'job' leaves serious practical and emotional gaps in our lives. As adults in American society, like it or not, we are defined by what we 'do', and doing nothing - as in being unemployed is unacceptable.
I watched my wife and others get up, do the morning thing, go off to their job, while those of use without work, do nearly the polar opposite. The stress of this process has been evident in my posts, though usually couched in humor, believe me the stress of being jobless has been difficult to handle at times. Thankfully, I, unlike many, have been blessed with family and friends who helped get me through the toughest days, and I would be remiss if I did not give them proper thanks - thank you one and all.
In my discussions and observations of both the employed and unemployed I have found some interesting peculiarities.
First, most people that ARE employed, don't like their job. The reason they keep on keeping on is very, very, simple - it provides a paycheck, and without a paycheck things get very, ugly, very fast.
Second, for the unemployed, their mental state depends on the length of unemployment. No, big surprise there but there seems to be a cycle that develops; shock, blame, relief, pursuit. The number of times an unemployed person goes through this, I believe, more it drags on your very spirit - these are the people that become the 'long-term' unemployed, those that have given up even trying to re-enter the 'traditional workforce' and I can understand much better than I did before.
Third, and this is the one I cannot figure out, for many who have lost their jobs, when the enter the 'pursuit' phase I see them trying (at least initially) to find employment doing something that they 'like to do, something they have always dreamed of doing' but they couldn't do this because they were tied to the paycheck offered by their 'traditional' job. The other thing I noticed over the last few months that a good many of the unemployed began seeking jobs in 'alternative' or 'non-traditional' fields - particularly in the arts! Past accountants now turning into ceramic artists, auto-workers picking up an a guitar and joining a band, downsized secretaries turning a love of cooking into selling home made salsa and former Technology Directors attempting to turn my love of art into a living. Strange that! It seems that many people who have been 'un-shackled' from tradition are suddenly free to express artistic creativity as a means of making living - outside the traditional confines of how we define 'work'.
Remember, that I said this is part of a cycle. I find myself at the end of the pursuit cycle and, realize that reaching this point has it's own dangers. I must confess that as philosophical as this discussion has been, the real and present need for immediate income is forcing me (once again) to push the more artistic dreams of making a living to the back burner. But, this time around, I understand the situation and plan on doing things a bit differently.
So, I have been offered a 'traditional job'. I start Monday. While I am excited at the prospect of earning money to pay my bills. I will work to keep sight of objectives to make a living creating and selling art work. Unlike past efforts, I don't plan on backtracking to the point where I was creating art just for fun. I, like many others in the same situation, have discovered that there is a real market for what we do creatively and that with good planning, marketing, development of networks, and etc. my vision of making money in the world of art is just as viable as employment in the 'traditional' world of work. It won't be easy, but that is the plan... today....
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Phase 18: "Good shot! You've just landed your first Newjita!"
Well, the inevitable happened. I landed a job. So, ends the 5 month and 2 day adventure in the world of the unemployed. To do a quick summary. During this time I have applied for 211 jobs, had 14 first interviews, 9 second interviews, one drug-test and as of yesterday afternoon, at 3:00 I was offered a job.
As much as being shockingly unemployed filled me with weird emotions, so, oddly enough, does suddenly being offered one after a long period of time also feels kind of strange. Kind of strange, like hunting with my Dad, putting my woodland skills to use and bringing down my first rabbit.
I grew up in a family of hunters. My grandfather grew up as a kid during the depression and often was given two .22 caliber bullets to bring in food for the family for a week. Boy Scouting was also part of the formation of all three generations. A good portion of being a scout is about survival, and providing for yourself and your family. Those things have been very important to me as well, and have been crucial during this time of my life when I began questioning many aspects of my situation and how I could possibly get through it.
Looking back over my posts, I realized that many of my posts related to just these situations. Survival, providing, and moving forward. Relying on what I have learned to deal with the situation. So, now on the cusp of re-entering the workforce, I have realized that, oddly enough, I was just settling in to a new survival mode. I have spent the last few months figuring out how to survive, how to provide and how to deal with the situation of being unemployed, and now, I have to adapt to a new situation.
I must admit that the day-to-day life of the unemployed person has been strange. I have no real schedule 'forced' on me by an employer, so I often stay up later than I should, and have definitely spent many mornings sleeping in later than usual. As I have mentioned in past posts, 'employment' provides structure and in the absence of structure, we are lost. With all the time on my hands, my mind has drifted like a volleyball on the ocean (see Phase 15) . Thoughts of what to do from simple to bizarre, crazy to even illegal, crossed my mind. Trying to figure out how to get by, how to provide for my family. And, to be honest, the longer this period of unemployment stretched, the more depressing it has become - full circle from the feelings I had when I first lost my job.
Yesterday, after being informed I had been hired, driving around, stuck in traffic, I began remembering how I felt the first time I actually killed an animal on a hunting trip with my Dad, Uncle and cousins.
Prior to that first kill, I had spent time as a 'flusher' as my Dad called it. A flusher works a trail, reading signs of the animals, trying to scare them out of cover, so that the guys with the guns, who were flanking us could make the kill. After a couple seasons of flushing and a couple years of proper firearms training, through the Boy Scouts, my Dad made the decision that I had earned the right to hunt with the grown ups. A moment of pride and a right of passage among the men of our family. The task of flusher was now passed on to my brother.
So, much like my discussion in a previous post (Phase 4), the hunt has been challenging. And, much like the fist time I sighted in and killed my first rabbit I have mixed feelings about the result. In the past, staring down at the fresh kill, the almost sweet smell of cordite combined with the much more muted scent of blood seeping from the rabbit at my feet, the cold, crisp December air, the post-gunfire silence that hangs like a blanket. My Dad, Uncle and friends closing the gap between me and the dead rabbit - them all smiling proudly at me! While I stood there, the adrenaline of the hunt and kill working it's way through my system, confused. My Dad reached me first, "Great shot son! You got him! He's gonna make a good stew! Now bag him and let's get going. There's more great eating out here!"
Landing a job has been very similar to this experience. I spent time preparing, learning the ropes from other successful job hunters, putting my skills to the test, beating the brush of want-ads, eventually becoming worthy enough to take the shot - make the impression and in the end, catch the elusive Newjita. Much like that first kill, I sat in my car thinking, "O.K. I got one. But why doesn't it feel right?"
One part of me is happy - finally I will be able to bring in the economic kill of a paycheck again. Man, the provider! The other part of me is, well, kind of disappointed. For the last couple of weeks I had quite enjoyed the process of being the 'flusher'. Really, it's not that hard, you crash around the job market, looking for trails that might lead to the lair of a Newjita. But, if I don't flush one out in one gully, then I just move on. I simply adjust my resume, and cover letter and crash on.
Then one day, I received a phone call for an interview - the chance to use my weapons - to prove I can bring down the Newjita and make the people around me proud.
After a warming ride for us in the cab of the pick-up, the dead rabbits became stiff, the combination of rigor and cold air, sure to quench any bit of life that may have been in them. Once home, we all shared a hot pot of coffee, each hunter detailing the events of the days kill.
Spreading the news of landing a job has been eerily similar to sharing hunting stories around the pot of coffee with the other hunters. Some hunters have had many kills, and lots of stories. Others have had only a few, and have less to add -- so they embellish their stories. I felt it just as important to share my successful 'hunt' with others, and they, like my Dad and Uncles did after I shot the rabbit, have come rushing to me with congratulations via text-message, email and phone calls. And, I still have that weird feeling. "Thanks, but, really, it's not that big of a kill."
Sitting at the stop light, texting my wife about the news, I can't help feel a bit sad, like I did looking at the freshly killed rabbit. I can't really say I enjoyed hunting. I am glad I learned the skills to do the job, but how often will I really need them? After all, we live in an age where hunting is not really necessary - at least that often. The stew made from the rabbit tasted good. The pay checks I will get will pay the bills, but honestly, in the end, much like hunting and killing rabbits, I really hope I don't have the need to do it for a long time.
As much as being shockingly unemployed filled me with weird emotions, so, oddly enough, does suddenly being offered one after a long period of time also feels kind of strange. Kind of strange, like hunting with my Dad, putting my woodland skills to use and bringing down my first rabbit.
I grew up in a family of hunters. My grandfather grew up as a kid during the depression and often was given two .22 caliber bullets to bring in food for the family for a week. Boy Scouting was also part of the formation of all three generations. A good portion of being a scout is about survival, and providing for yourself and your family. Those things have been very important to me as well, and have been crucial during this time of my life when I began questioning many aspects of my situation and how I could possibly get through it.
Looking back over my posts, I realized that many of my posts related to just these situations. Survival, providing, and moving forward. Relying on what I have learned to deal with the situation. So, now on the cusp of re-entering the workforce, I have realized that, oddly enough, I was just settling in to a new survival mode. I have spent the last few months figuring out how to survive, how to provide and how to deal with the situation of being unemployed, and now, I have to adapt to a new situation.
I must admit that the day-to-day life of the unemployed person has been strange. I have no real schedule 'forced' on me by an employer, so I often stay up later than I should, and have definitely spent many mornings sleeping in later than usual. As I have mentioned in past posts, 'employment' provides structure and in the absence of structure, we are lost. With all the time on my hands, my mind has drifted like a volleyball on the ocean (see Phase 15) . Thoughts of what to do from simple to bizarre, crazy to even illegal, crossed my mind. Trying to figure out how to get by, how to provide for my family. And, to be honest, the longer this period of unemployment stretched, the more depressing it has become - full circle from the feelings I had when I first lost my job.
Yesterday, after being informed I had been hired, driving around, stuck in traffic, I began remembering how I felt the first time I actually killed an animal on a hunting trip with my Dad, Uncle and cousins.
Prior to that first kill, I had spent time as a 'flusher' as my Dad called it. A flusher works a trail, reading signs of the animals, trying to scare them out of cover, so that the guys with the guns, who were flanking us could make the kill. After a couple seasons of flushing and a couple years of proper firearms training, through the Boy Scouts, my Dad made the decision that I had earned the right to hunt with the grown ups. A moment of pride and a right of passage among the men of our family. The task of flusher was now passed on to my brother.
So, much like my discussion in a previous post (Phase 4), the hunt has been challenging. And, much like the fist time I sighted in and killed my first rabbit I have mixed feelings about the result. In the past, staring down at the fresh kill, the almost sweet smell of cordite combined with the much more muted scent of blood seeping from the rabbit at my feet, the cold, crisp December air, the post-gunfire silence that hangs like a blanket. My Dad, Uncle and friends closing the gap between me and the dead rabbit - them all smiling proudly at me! While I stood there, the adrenaline of the hunt and kill working it's way through my system, confused. My Dad reached me first, "Great shot son! You got him! He's gonna make a good stew! Now bag him and let's get going. There's more great eating out here!"
Landing a job has been very similar to this experience. I spent time preparing, learning the ropes from other successful job hunters, putting my skills to the test, beating the brush of want-ads, eventually becoming worthy enough to take the shot - make the impression and in the end, catch the elusive Newjita. Much like that first kill, I sat in my car thinking, "O.K. I got one. But why doesn't it feel right?"
One part of me is happy - finally I will be able to bring in the economic kill of a paycheck again. Man, the provider! The other part of me is, well, kind of disappointed. For the last couple of weeks I had quite enjoyed the process of being the 'flusher'. Really, it's not that hard, you crash around the job market, looking for trails that might lead to the lair of a Newjita. But, if I don't flush one out in one gully, then I just move on. I simply adjust my resume, and cover letter and crash on.
Then one day, I received a phone call for an interview - the chance to use my weapons - to prove I can bring down the Newjita and make the people around me proud.
After a warming ride for us in the cab of the pick-up, the dead rabbits became stiff, the combination of rigor and cold air, sure to quench any bit of life that may have been in them. Once home, we all shared a hot pot of coffee, each hunter detailing the events of the days kill.
Spreading the news of landing a job has been eerily similar to sharing hunting stories around the pot of coffee with the other hunters. Some hunters have had many kills, and lots of stories. Others have had only a few, and have less to add -- so they embellish their stories. I felt it just as important to share my successful 'hunt' with others, and they, like my Dad and Uncles did after I shot the rabbit, have come rushing to me with congratulations via text-message, email and phone calls. And, I still have that weird feeling. "Thanks, but, really, it's not that big of a kill."
Sitting at the stop light, texting my wife about the news, I can't help feel a bit sad, like I did looking at the freshly killed rabbit. I can't really say I enjoyed hunting. I am glad I learned the skills to do the job, but how often will I really need them? After all, we live in an age where hunting is not really necessary - at least that often. The stew made from the rabbit tasted good. The pay checks I will get will pay the bills, but honestly, in the end, much like hunting and killing rabbits, I really hope I don't have the need to do it for a long time.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Phase 17: Episode 1: "...next stop, the Unemployment Zone"
The overall effect of being unemployed has produced a variety of emotions that are not always easy to explain or to slough off, like dust on a table, or dog hair on the floor, or unfolded laundry in a basket, or dirt dishes in the sink, or dinner not ready when the spouse gets home from work, or...... Arrrrrrrgh! Wait, I am inside some kind of time warp... Being unemployed has some how shifted, phased, or altered my existence! I have some how become a character in some kind of personal Twilight Zone.
[Bring up image of Rod Serling]
NOTE: The names and facts contained in this story may vary from actual reality, but the heartfelt sentiment remains true.
NOTE: The names and facts contained in this story may vary from actual reality, but the heartfelt sentiment remains true.
"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead — your next stop, the Unemployment Zone."
SCENE 1: A man wanders around the house, moving things, touching things straightening things, over and over, sometimes the same objects, readjusting them. He goes faster and faster, getting closer and closer to the camera until his face fills the frame, staring, blinking, zombie like.
[Narrator ME] "Recently I have reflected on things, kind of like an external observer in an episode of The Twilight Zone. I'm there, I see myself, I'm doing things, going through the motions of trying to cope with no job, dwindling resources and an increasing sense of foreboding. Yet, somehow I exist outside the regular world in some kind of strange limbo.
The days seem to run together, as I have mentioned before, the lack of a 'work-day' robs us of the subliminal addiction to a schedule.
[Actual ME] (in bed, looking at the clock) "Get up. Come on. Move!"
[Narrator ME] "Each morning my body wakes me up around six - for a second - then the other part of me takes control
[Other ME] (voice over) "He you! Shut-up! He doesn't have to go to work. Go back to sleep."
[Narrator ME] Saddly the other part of me seems to take a stronger hold each day. It seems harder and harder to justify getting up in the morning. Harder and harder to find reason to do much of anything.
SCENE 2 : back to the man doing chores around the house zombie like, laundry, dishes, taking out he garbage, dusting, sweeping madly, again ending up face to face with the camera.
[Narrator ME] So, I watch myself, wander through the day, doing stuff. One day I do some laundry, the next I sweep, dust and do some yardwork. Then next day I may have an almost obsessive need to sweep and dust - attempting to collect every loose hair in the house.
SCENE 3: the man taps away on a laptop, shuffles paper, makes notes on papers, carelessly drinks coffee, stops to take a cell phone call, swearing occasionally, looking haggard.
[Narrator ME] Yesterday the obsession was job hunting. With maddening abandoned I sat, laptop on the table, web-browser whiring, resuume and cove letter open - tweaking each one to match each job like some kind of possessed demon in my personal twilight zone...Suddenly the computer dies....? The thing just shut down! I look for a reason. Dead battery. Christ! It's four in the afternoon... The entire day shot... Wait.... Where are the boys? What have they been doing all day.
SCENE 4: (the man stands, stretches, looks to the ceiling...)
[Narrator ME] I stand, stretch and move around the house to find out what has happened to my kids while I was lost in the Unemployment Zone. The youngest is at the neighbors swimming - I don't remember him even asking - the oldest, well he is GONE. I grab the cell phone and call.
[ME] (manly hysterical) "Jezus, where the hell are you?"
[OLDEST SON] (perturbed and confused at being bothered) "God, Dad. Settle down."
[ME] (calming down) "So, you just go, without asking me?"
[OLDEST SON] (best 'adult' voice) "First, I AM 18 and I KNOW how to take the bus."
[ME] (frustration returning to my voice) "So!"
[OLDEST SON] "Dad, you were so busy hunched over you computer with job adds an resumes all over, I didn't want to bother you."
[ME] (shuffling papers on the table, plugging in the computer charger) "O.K.
[OLDEST SON] "So, are you, like done? I'll be home by five."
[ME] (wanders into the kitchen, looks at the clock) "Sure. Be safe. See you then."
SCENE 5: the man moves around the kitchen, preparing dinner, cleaning up
[Narrator ME] I move lazily in the un-airconditioned heat of my house. I look at the clock - almost 5:00 P.M. , I had better get things straightened up around here and start dinner before my wife gets home...
What? Where did THAT come from? Thinking in this heat makes my head hurt...so I go to the fridge.
SCENE 6: the man stands at the open refrigerator, drinking a beer, mist flows out of the fridge around his feet. He finishes a beer and stands there.
[Narrator ME] I start asking myself how much longer I can put up with this. This existence with no structure. This life of moving from day to day seems less and less important. The ongoing effort to find a job seems more and more pointless. The confusion of what to do next, the near freezing paralysis of not being able to move forward or backward. Stuck there....frozen.
SCENE 7: YOUNGEST SON enters from the door next to the fridge. (he is wet, has a beach towel over his shoulder) Stops and stares at his dad, who is standing in front of the open fridge.
[YOUNGEST SON] "Dad? DAD! What are you doing?"
(YOUNGEST SON runs off, Dad is startled. Stands looking around)
[Narrator ME] Crap! I'm still standing in front of the open fridge, but now there are three empty beer cans on the shelf, next to the now sweating milk jug. Brother. I need to get it together.
SCENE 8: time lapse of table setting, family seating, eating dinner, cleaning up, washing dishes, one at a time they leave, the man pours coffee, sits in a recliner in the living room, grabs his lap top and starts typing.
[Narrator ME] Dinner is made, served and over. The family is tucked away in the one air conditioned room of the house, watching Dr. Who or something and I am at the keyboard, still trying to figure things out. If I was a smoker, this is the time I would light up a cigarette, and try to get lost in thought.
(fade to black)
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Phase 16: Hey! I think I got one! No! Crap! It's a toilet seat!
It's the middle of summer and I am approaching my 5th month of unemployment and many things have been bouncing around my head. First, as each day without a job passes, I gain a better understanding of the 'long-term unemployed'. By government definition, that means being unemployed for 27 weeks or more - I am at 18 now. National Public Radio aired a story that discussed that perceived improvement in the national unemployment rate does not reflect those people who have simply given up looking for work. They further noted that this population may represent nearly one to two percent of the nations actual unemployed, meaning that there has been no real turn around in employment figures at the national level.
What do do? What to do? Looking for 'regular' jobs has been a less than successful to say the least. To date I have applied to over 200 jobs. Where does that leave me? Confused, depressed, angry, lethargic, non-committal, all true to some degree. But with savings dwindling and bills that don't go away just because I don't have a job, I must do something.
So back to the drawing board. I scour the want ads, I surf the job sites and apply to anther dozen or so jobs, ant then I wait. It is during these times I return to trying to understand how all this is affecting me. Nothing seems to help. Flipping the channels on a rainy afternoon, I stopped on a fishing show. Hmmm.... fishing? Unemployment, waiting for an employer to call, hoping to get a really good job.
Fishing. A noble past-time of an age gone by? A life-skill needed to put food on the table? A hobby that is passed from grissled old-timers to the next generations? How ever you look at it fishing and being unemployed have a lot in common.
Akin to hunting (discussed in detail in several previous posts), fishing can help me understand what I am going through. Admittedly the pain of being fired has diminished over time, I now look at the job hunt like a fishing trip with my Grandpa.
Perusing the classifieds, I identify a few 'fishing-holes' that seem interesting. So, out to my office I go. I pull out my tackle box of resumes, and after carefully reading the ad, I select one that I think will work. Remembering what my Grandpa taught me.
He would tell me, "Boy, the 'bait' you choose is the most important part of fishin'. You gotta know what you're fishin' for and give it what it likes."
So I pick out a resume, scrutinize it carefully. Reworking the 'electronic fly' so that it is as attractive as possible. The fish in the unemployment lake are very, very picky, so I must pay attention to every detail of the bait before I make the first cast.
After a couple of hours of editing, copying, pasting, reformatting, font selection, etc. I rear back, try to judge the winds and flip the pole, watching the lure fly, carried by the winds of the ethernet to its destination, just...to...the...left of the 'discard-pile' and hopefully onto the desk where the Hiring Fish in the H.R. department will be.
Having finished the cast, my Grandpa leaned back in his seat on the boat, "Son, now comes the second most important part of fishin'. Ya gotta wait. Let the fish consider your bait."
So earlier this week I prepared several lures, cast lines out to likely locations where I hope some Hiring Fish takes the bait.
Now, more than then, I better understand waiting. But, now, just like then, patience has never been my strong suit. I get patient. To help settle myself down, I thought about my Grandpa.
As a kid I admired the near mystical qualities that my Grandpa possessed when ever we would go hunting or fishing. He seemed to see, hear and feel things that I could not, and that was well, just .....cool.
Back at home, I flipped between my e-mail program, my mail-box, answering machine, and cell phone, impatiently pacing, trying to be as calm as my Grandpa in fishing chair.
The phone rings.
Sitting up with a start I grab the pole, er, phone. "Hello, is Scott Lightfoot there?"
Holding onto the pole reeling in the line, "Yes, this is he."
"This is Connie, from Company X. We received your resume and would like you to come in for an interview.", the pleasant voice said.
Reeling harder now, doing my best not to lose the fish on the other end of the line. "I'd be happy to come in and talk with you."
I could hear Connie tapping on a keyboard in the back ground. "How about this Friday at 2:30 p.m.?
I recall my Grandpa's advice, "When you get one on the line, boy, you gotta feel the fishout. Let the ple and the line talk to you."
The quizzical look in my 10 year old eyes told him I didn't understand.
"Look, son, you gotta feel the pole. The fish will tell you a lot by how it feels. The tension on the line can help you guess the size of the fish, how much of a hold your hook has and you can tell if your line is strong enough to reel him in."
Back on the phone with this fish, I could tell I had a chance. I set the appointment and prepared and waited. Again with the waiting.
Again, my Grandpa's voice in my head tells me, "The challenge is to keep hold of the line until you get the fish to the edge of the boat where you can scoop him up with the net."
The day arrived, and yes, I was exhausted. I had been holding on to the pole of hope, watching the tension in line get more taught, as I began to think about what it would be like to be employed again.
The feeling I had now mirrored the youthful euphoria I had as a kid, when I felt the first fish on the end of my line. The thought of a regular paycheck, the prospect of having the void created by my job loss possibly filled by this new job. The confusion of not having a schedule made simpler by a weekly routine - what ever it would be - 'meaning' in my life restored by being able to look people in the eye and say, "I have job." I smiled ear to ear - just like in the photo of me and Grandpa.
So I show up for the interview, jump through the hoops of that process (see phases 10, 11, 13) leave the office and return home. The muscles of hope holding on to the pole burn as I wait for some kind of response about the job. Waiting, more pain. Waiting, the line gets tighter. I pull with all the strength of my psyche. Believing that THIS time, the call will be positive. One day goes by, no call. Two days go by, nothing. Then on the third day....on my computer.... my email program comes to life . BWONG!! "You've got mail!"
Now, Scott the Fisherman, standing with my feet anchored to the floor of the boat, pulling with all my might.
I click on the message from Company X.
"Dear Scott,"
I feel the fish on the other end giving up. I get excited as I see it break the surface of the water, glimmering in the sun.
"After careful review of your resume, discussion with your references, we have decided that you..."
The line goes loose and I reel in faster, faster, to make sure I have a good hold on the hope that is the fish flying in the air.
"...do not fit the qualifications required for the position to which you have applied for. Free from the line it comes hurtling right at me. I'm too stupefied to move. I can't believe this is happening again!
"We at Company X will keep your resume on file. In the event that any positions open up in the future that match your qualifications, we will let you know."
KERTHUNK!! Owwww! What the...? The damn fish hit me right in the forehead. Looking at the floor of the boat I see it's not the Hiring Fish, but ann old toilet seat. Dizzily I lean over and pick it up. I flip open the hold in the center of the boat and toss it in with my other 'catches'; the boot, the umbrella, the coffee can, the tree root, and the bucket.
Damn. I turn the other way, start the engine and go back to shore, empty handed, no job, again.
What do do? What to do? Looking for 'regular' jobs has been a less than successful to say the least. To date I have applied to over 200 jobs. Where does that leave me? Confused, depressed, angry, lethargic, non-committal, all true to some degree. But with savings dwindling and bills that don't go away just because I don't have a job, I must do something.
So back to the drawing board. I scour the want ads, I surf the job sites and apply to anther dozen or so jobs, ant then I wait. It is during these times I return to trying to understand how all this is affecting me. Nothing seems to help. Flipping the channels on a rainy afternoon, I stopped on a fishing show. Hmmm.... fishing? Unemployment, waiting for an employer to call, hoping to get a really good job.
Fishing. A noble past-time of an age gone by? A life-skill needed to put food on the table? A hobby that is passed from grissled old-timers to the next generations? How ever you look at it fishing and being unemployed have a lot in common.
Akin to hunting (discussed in detail in several previous posts), fishing can help me understand what I am going through. Admittedly the pain of being fired has diminished over time, I now look at the job hunt like a fishing trip with my Grandpa.
Perusing the classifieds, I identify a few 'fishing-holes' that seem interesting. So, out to my office I go. I pull out my tackle box of resumes, and after carefully reading the ad, I select one that I think will work. Remembering what my Grandpa taught me.
He would tell me, "Boy, the 'bait' you choose is the most important part of fishin'. You gotta know what you're fishin' for and give it what it likes."
So I pick out a resume, scrutinize it carefully. Reworking the 'electronic fly' so that it is as attractive as possible. The fish in the unemployment lake are very, very picky, so I must pay attention to every detail of the bait before I make the first cast.
After a couple of hours of editing, copying, pasting, reformatting, font selection, etc. I rear back, try to judge the winds and flip the pole, watching the lure fly, carried by the winds of the ethernet to its destination, just...to...the...left of the 'discard-pile' and hopefully onto the desk where the Hiring Fish in the H.R. department will be.
Having finished the cast, my Grandpa leaned back in his seat on the boat, "Son, now comes the second most important part of fishin'. Ya gotta wait. Let the fish consider your bait."
So earlier this week I prepared several lures, cast lines out to likely locations where I hope some Hiring Fish takes the bait.
Now, more than then, I better understand waiting. But, now, just like then, patience has never been my strong suit. I get patient. To help settle myself down, I thought about my Grandpa.
As a kid I admired the near mystical qualities that my Grandpa possessed when ever we would go hunting or fishing. He seemed to see, hear and feel things that I could not, and that was well, just .....cool.
Back at home, I flipped between my e-mail program, my mail-box, answering machine, and cell phone, impatiently pacing, trying to be as calm as my Grandpa in fishing chair.
The phone rings.
Sitting up with a start I grab the pole, er, phone. "Hello, is Scott Lightfoot there?"
Holding onto the pole reeling in the line, "Yes, this is he."
"This is Connie, from Company X. We received your resume and would like you to come in for an interview.", the pleasant voice said.
Reeling harder now, doing my best not to lose the fish on the other end of the line. "I'd be happy to come in and talk with you."
I could hear Connie tapping on a keyboard in the back ground. "How about this Friday at 2:30 p.m.?
I recall my Grandpa's advice, "When you get one on the line, boy, you gotta feel the fishout. Let the ple and the line talk to you."
The quizzical look in my 10 year old eyes told him I didn't understand.
"Look, son, you gotta feel the pole. The fish will tell you a lot by how it feels. The tension on the line can help you guess the size of the fish, how much of a hold your hook has and you can tell if your line is strong enough to reel him in."
Back on the phone with this fish, I could tell I had a chance. I set the appointment and prepared and waited. Again with the waiting.
Again, my Grandpa's voice in my head tells me, "The challenge is to keep hold of the line until you get the fish to the edge of the boat where you can scoop him up with the net."
The day arrived, and yes, I was exhausted. I had been holding on to the pole of hope, watching the tension in line get more taught, as I began to think about what it would be like to be employed again.
The feeling I had now mirrored the youthful euphoria I had as a kid, when I felt the first fish on the end of my line. The thought of a regular paycheck, the prospect of having the void created by my job loss possibly filled by this new job. The confusion of not having a schedule made simpler by a weekly routine - what ever it would be - 'meaning' in my life restored by being able to look people in the eye and say, "I have job." I smiled ear to ear - just like in the photo of me and Grandpa.
So I show up for the interview, jump through the hoops of that process (see phases 10, 11, 13) leave the office and return home. The muscles of hope holding on to the pole burn as I wait for some kind of response about the job. Waiting, more pain. Waiting, the line gets tighter. I pull with all the strength of my psyche. Believing that THIS time, the call will be positive. One day goes by, no call. Two days go by, nothing. Then on the third day....on my computer.... my email program comes to life . BWONG!! "You've got mail!"
Now, Scott the Fisherman, standing with my feet anchored to the floor of the boat, pulling with all my might.
I click on the message from Company X.
"Dear Scott,"
I feel the fish on the other end giving up. I get excited as I see it break the surface of the water, glimmering in the sun.
"After careful review of your resume, discussion with your references, we have decided that you..."
The line goes loose and I reel in faster, faster, to make sure I have a good hold on the hope that is the fish flying in the air.
"...do not fit the qualifications required for the position to which you have applied for. Free from the line it comes hurtling right at me. I'm too stupefied to move. I can't believe this is happening again!
"We at Company X will keep your resume on file. In the event that any positions open up in the future that match your qualifications, we will let you know."
KERTHUNK!! Owwww! What the...? The damn fish hit me right in the forehead. Looking at the floor of the boat I see it's not the Hiring Fish, but ann old toilet seat. Dizzily I lean over and pick it up. I flip open the hold in the center of the boat and toss it in with my other 'catches'; the boot, the umbrella, the coffee can, the tree root, and the bucket.
Damn. I turn the other way, start the engine and go back to shore, empty handed, no job, again.
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