There’s really no other way to say it – it just f’n sucks!
Just before I was about to clock out for lunch on February
29th, I was called to the office manager’s office. This was not a normal request – in fact such
a request had only been made one other time in the nine months I worked with
the firm. To say my departure was a
surprise would be an understatement. I
was working on two projects, had another on my desk waiting for me to get to it
and I was actually excited about the two guys that were starting that day in my
department because I thought that finally meant things were going to calm down
for me a bit so that I would be able to catch up with everything.
…she had to say it twice… we’re going to have to let you go... because
I couldn’t believe it. How in the world
can she fire me – I didn’t even have the time to sit in the office right then
and there; I was falling behind as it was!
(That would have gone over well I
don’t have time for you to fire me right now, I have too much work to do!) But
then it hit me; for the first time in my life I’d been fired. Not only was I going to be escorted back to
my desk to pack up all my belongings (“are you going to need more than one
box?”) but the health insurance I’d finally qualified for (and desperately needed) and the paychecks I
worked my arse off to get were all gone just that fast.
One hundred and eighteen days later & I’m starting to
realize that compensation was not all I lost that day. It’s almost cliché to say loosing that job
(especially the way it happened) did something to my self-esteem in ways that I
was not prepared for. It’s bad enough
that I don’t have a reason to set the alarm before I go to bed anymore but it’s
something totally different when it’s because someone doesn’t think I copy,
scan and file well enough to keep me on the payroll. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to
put on a job application that you were fired from a job you only held nine
months and the only thing you did those nine months was print out documents and
put them in a three ring binder?? (Don’t
worry, I have come up with a line
worthy of our current presidential candidates: Changes in the firm required someone with a legal and engineering
background in my position.)
Recently though I’ve started to realize the worse part about
being unemployed is the loneliness; especially for someone like me who lives
alone. I can’t tell you how many times
I’ve had someone ask me about my ‘bout of unemployment’ as if it was a medical
issue that I was dealing with. “How are
you holding up?” they’ll whisper like the did in the days of black and white
tvs as if I have ‘the cancer’ or something else equally dreadful. I know they mean well (You’d think with the
economy as sluggish as it has been for the past few years we as a society would
be better at talking about this than we are.) but they don’t know what to say
to me any more than I do when someone close to me has a death in their family.
…death… you know, come to think of it, that’s exactly what
this feels like some days; a slow lingering, painful death. There’s the normal stress of not being able
to keep the lights on, the water running and/or a roof over your head (not to
mention gas in the tank in case you get that rare interview or food in the
fridge so you don’t pass out during that elusive interview) but no one talks
about the loneliness of being unemployed.
Even if you dislike everyone you work with and hate what you
do 40+ hours a week, there is always some sort of face to face interaction with
SOMEBODY. That’s something you take for
granted when you live alone and for all intents and purposes have no place to
go for weeks on end. No stopping for
coffee on your way into work, chit chatting over the water cooler about the tv
shows you watched the night before, going out to lunch with fellow cubemates
complaining about the amount of work your manager expects you to do, and no one
to call on the way home to see if you need to pick anything up for dinner. Instead when you’re unemployed (especially
for as long as I have been) you can stay in your pjs all day long while you spend 8
hours combing the job boards looking for any place to send your resume. You spend the next 4 hours calling the
utility companies begging for more time to catch up while hoping the cell phone
company won’t cut you off mid-conversation.
Sometimes you have to remember to put a bra on before walking out to get
the mail & other days you just don’t care.
You may make the effort to keep in touch with friends the first
few weeks of your “vacation” but after while you just don’t see the point. It doesn’t take long to run out of ways to
answer the “any leads yet” question and truth be told it’s pretty depressing to
listen about all the fun adventures your friends are going on. Sometimes your Facebook friends will forget
that cable was one of the things you had to give up which means you’re constantly
repeating why you aren’t following the new show that the whole world seems to
be talking about. Or one of your long
distance friends will call to catch up & you’ll hear that uncomfortable
silence on the other end of the phone when you explain that you haven’t been to
any of the festival concerts because you can’t afford the tickets anymore.
You know your friends mean well. They want the best for you; they’re pulling
for you and even sending as any opportunities your way they come across. You can’t blame them for being insensitive to
your moods because honestly you can't bring yourself to tell anyone how utterly
hopeless you’re feeling. Not only do you
not want to whine and complain every time they do make the effort to call or
send you an IM but damn it can’t they see
how miserable and scared you are right now?? They tell you to hang in there, things will
get better and assure you they are praying for you …but what you really want is
for them to take you out to dinner.
Now that’s funny – but it’s so true. Last week a friend treated me to lunch and a
movie and treated me like a person and
not someone that needed to be pitied or taken care of. Not only did she get me out of the house for
a few hours; she didn’t make me feel like a charity case. She let me keep my
dignity while she picked up the tab for everything – including picking me up at
my house so I didn’t have to use my gas.
For the first time in awhile I not only had something to look forward
to, but I had a reason to put something on other than sweat pants and an
oversized shirt (and the movie was GREAT!).
When I get out of this mess I’m in, I’m going to have to find a way to
pay her kindness forward.
By the way, please don’t think I turn down the invites for all those
street festival concerts or movies in the park, etc. because I don’t want to go
– more often than not that’s anything but the case. Keep in mind that just because the event is
free it doesn’t always mean that attending won’t cost some money (that I just
might not have at that time). Again it’s
the little things that you take for granted (can you bring your own drinks/food
to the event? what does it cost to
park? etc.) that I have to take into
consideration. Keep inviting me though
– who knows I might be able to make it happen & I’d love to have someone
else to talk to other than my dust bunnies and the spiders in the corner.
*Sigh*… Look, I meant what I said when I started this thing
– being unemployed (when you don’t want to be) royally sucks. I try to stay busy with volunteer work (Red
Cross and Cabarrus County Literacy Council) but there are still days when (even
if I stay in my pjs) it’s hard for me to come up with a good enough reason to
pull myself out of bed. In my head I
know there are other people that are in worse shape than I am, that I need to
keep plugging along as best as I can… but if you were to call me just at the
right (or wrong) moment you’d be hard pressed to convince me of that. There are some days when I have why me, I did everything right on a
continual loop in my head & I can’t get past it.
…and if you happen to call/IM/Skype me on one of those days
I wish you’d let me have those
feelings. Don’t make me feel guilty for
being terrified of having to move back to VA to live with my Dad at the age of
43 (or worse – not even being able to AFFORD to run back home). Give me 20 minutes to cry on your shoulder
about how discouraged I am at that moment in time & I promise you I’ll
change the subject back to you (if for no other reason but to get the spot
light off me).
… if you can do that for me, I promise not to put up much of
a fight when you offer to pay for a dinner once in awhile. :)
