Shockingly Unemployed (AGAIN!!!)

Dad Is Home - The 'Silver Lining' of Unemployment?

2011-12-03T05:25:00.000-08:00

Alright, I have written a lot of depressing things relating to being unemployed, so as I was working on building my studio - during what the employed refer to as 'the workday' I began thinking back to my own childhood. I grew up in a two parent home with hardworking parents who did what needed to be done to pay the bills and provide for the family - overall, not much different from what my wife and I are trying to do now.

However, looking back through the lens of time at my life growing up, I realized one thing that, while amazing to me, I am SURE was frustrating to my parents, and upon retrospect, I see that it was much more stressful than they ever let on... My DAD was home - alot!

From my perspective, my Dad - a carpenter/millwright by training - was almost always around. His busy hands were always building, making, fixing, repairing things. It was amazing that he seemed to always have an answer or a solution to all manner of things within those windows of need. Our home changed in so many ways from the simple one-story ranch home we moved into in 1970 after my Mom remarried and Bud became 'Dad'.

Walls got covered with custom woodwork, the cold concrete basement took form over the years eventually containing not only my bedroom, but a family room, laundry room, storage and workshop. Outside the house we built concrete decks, installed fences, planted gardens, trees and flowers. About the only things that were beyond my Dad's reach were the massive fireplace installed in our living room, and the in ground pool in the back.

As I grew, I better understood why my Dad was around so much. Being in the construction industry, his employment ebbed and flowed with the demands of the economy. This was reflected by the many types of jobs he had over the years. He was part of crews that build homes, office complexes, the first 'malls' in our area, sewage treatment plants, and schools. When the construction jobs weren't available, he drove trucks delivering trailer related products, he drove vans for a while, taking elderly patients to doctor appointments, he even sold Amway products along the way.

For HIM, this broad spectrum of jobs was how he made money to meet the needs of his family. For ME it meant that 'Dad was HOME' Reflecting on this, it was always a bit baffling that so many of my friends fathers were not around, either do to their jobs, or due to the fact that their parents divorced and Dad was simply not part of the family anymore - something I cannot fathom.

In discussion with my Dad as I got older and became a husband, father and breadwinner (though the loaves have mostly been small!) I discovered that the interim time between jobs was the most frustrating for him. Those were the times he worried, really worried. to the point of having stomach ulcers and picking up the bottle, and for him, it was an embarrassment and a poor reflection of him self as a man and a person, whenever he was not 'employed'. These late night revelations from father to son shared over a glass of good scotch, were eye-opening to me. Either he did a GREAT job of hiding these frustrations, or maybe it was the self-filtering nature of childhood that insulates kids from these emotions, I don't know. What I do know is that he was THERE.

Dad was THERE to be a Scout Master, he was THERE to attend sports events, he was THERE to help with school projects - particularly ones that required building something! - he was THERE to open report cards that came in the mail - BEFORE I could snatch them from the mailbox and hide them like so many of my friends seemed to do....and...finally he was THERE to spank my backside and discipline me when I would stray off the path. I realize now that he was THERE so much because of UNEMPLOYMENT.

So, as I paused in my garage - becoming studio - warming my hands with a hot mug of coffee, listening to my favorite music on CD (Dad always had a reel-to-reel tape recorder going - kids reading this may have to look that one up in the Museum of Old Technology), I realized that, much like my Dad's many projects, and his nearly constant presence around the house, his busy hands was how he handled what for many people become situations that drive them down unhealthy paths, that many never seem to return from. I never used to understand the statement, 'Idle hands are the Devil's play thing.' as much as I do now. Looking back, I see that what BECAME transformative projects in our lives - from home construction projects, to homework assistance, was how he dealt with periods of unemployment.

As the landscape of MY life takes shape, and I create MY story, I realize that his presence in my life was crucial to the man that I have become, and for HIM it was a way to keep his sanity and to keep focused on the things that are really important; caring for your family, meeting their needs, doing what needs to be done to ensure their happiness as much as possible, and to keep going on, to keep struggling because despite the gaps created by unemployment made it possible for HIM to be the man, the DAD that was so crucial to us as kids. These periods allowed him to be creative and fulfilled through his craft, and to maintain a level of sanity during times in his life when things looked the darkest.

What does this mean to me? I look at my life, and while I have not been down the unemployment road as any times as he did, my struggles in the 'tween-times' has been manageable by drawing on the lessons I learned from the struggles that my Dad survived, and how I observed and absorbed his nature for 'filling the gaps' with 'meaningful work'. For me that involves taking care of our home, creating my studio space so I can create art, and I think it even fuels my love of culinary exploration! So, in the end, while none of us wants to be faced with the ugliness, fear and worry so often associated with being unemployed, we can HOPE that somewhere along the lines the kinds of people we are BETWEEN meaningful employment, reflects the kind of values we want our CHILDREN to live by.

While I make no claims to being the perfect 'unemployee' - if that makes sense - I hope that my presence can provide the same kinds of life-lessons to my kids and family, even thought they may not realize it for half-a-lifetime. On a personal note. I now better understand my propensity to 'DO' rather than 'GIVE UP' when faced with the challenge of being unemployed.

I hope, the challenge ends soon! I much prefer the challenge of work! My goal is to make my work come from my creative efforts, where my success will be measured by my efforts on my own behalf and not be dependent on the whims of a boss, a company, or even the 'economy' of the day.

Phase 32: The Scarlet Letter?..No...The Invisible Letter 'U'

2011-11-18T15:02:00.000-08:00

Day 25 of being unemployed. I could say this is a unique experience, but I know that it is not. What I can say is that it is an experience I tire of. I've mentioned a variety of emotions, feelings and impressions in other posts about this experience before, so I won't restate them -- because like bad memories -- they are still too fresh and painful, and depressing.

This time around, though it is different in so many ways. I am certain that the past almost two years have been so messed up that I don't even realize HOW much it has affected me, how much it has affected my relationships to family and friends, and how much it has changed my life.

First getting tossed from what had become the best job ever, because I got comfortable and wasn't watching my back. Fine, I think I did well with that -- though it took ten months and a lot of anguish and struggle (and help from people who care about me) to get through that period. I found a job, it was awful. I quit and found a better job, and for the first time in a long time my life seemed to be on somewhat of a positive track. I was contributing to the family, I was learning a new trade, I was getting used to a new existence. I had even rekindled my love of art and seemed to be making new progress with those ventures.

Then, about a year a go, I start getting symptoms of the cancer that would eventually take my colon and rob me of more time, more anguish, more misery and throw me right back into the well of self-doubt that I had been in after I lost my job.

Diagnosis, surgery, very long recovery. Eventually my body healed enough that I was able to return to work. Thankfully my employer held my position while I healed and I was once again able to feel a bit better about contributing to my family and was again, seemingly back on the path. Work was going fine, my cancer treatments weren't too taxing - again, my employer was very accommodating of my medical needs, and things seemed to be getting better. It even seemed like things were getting a bit better at home.

God! Damnit! Why, oh, why, do I EVER try to convince myself that I finally have made it through some kind of barrier of pain and suffering and misery, that I somehow have gotten to a point where things will be o.k.? I have never asked or expected everything to be perfect. I'd settle for o.k. with minimal disasters, just the regular stuff, you know; a flat tire once in a while, a flooded basement from a broken washer, a dog that eats a box of Brillo pads and needs surgery....you know...regular things. But, no, along comes Monday, October 24th, 2011 and I get laid off from my job -- nothing to do with me or job performance or anything... "It's the economy, stupid." and zingo, back to starting over, again.

Once again, I find myself faced with this weird deja-vu-istic feelings, reliving experiences as I went through just over a year ago... I see the same people, who tell me the same things, "One door closes...", "This too will pass...", "Gosh, you have free time again...", "At least you get unemployment this time..."blah, blah, fucking blah... I DON'T CARE! I AM FUCKING SICK OF IT! I am fully aware of how self-centered and selfish it sounds, but I am simply tired of living through the worthless shit-pile that my life has become. Sorry to be so brash with my comments, but a big part of this blog is being able to say and process what is going on in my head. So, as some people have told me ...."Get out your violins...." and play the "Woe Is Scott's Life" requiem...." here it comes.

Getting back to the title of this entry, "The Scarlet Letter?..No...The Invisible Letter 'U' ", and taking the focus off of me for a moment, we all saw in the news the whole "99%" vs "1%" thing that is being touted as what we all need to be paying attention as a nation is these economic times...well I say, BULLSHIT!!! What we NEED to be paying attention to -- as far as I am concerned is the nearly "10%" - the ten percent -that is nearly 30 MILLION PEOPLE....who are out of work...do you realize how big a number that is??? No, probably not...because that number means NOTHING until YOU are ONE of those 30 MILLION. If you can grasp the gravity of this then you can partially understand what a I am trying to get to with this blog.

Back in the day of 'Scarlet Letter' the worse thing a woman could be accused of was Adultery, and she was forced to go through life with the infamousletter 'A' sewn to her dress. Forever the scourge of her community. Fast forward four centuries and, oddly enough adultery is not even a crime, and in some circles (politics? big business? the rich and famous?) it is almost expected. I maintain that the new scourge, the new stigma, the new sin is being unemployed....

I really don't see much difference from the treatment that those with the 'A' sewn to their clothing got back then, than those of us who (ususally) through no 'sin' of their own are forced, in effect, to brandish a glowing 'U' for UNEMPLOYED, UNACCEPTABLE, UNEDUCATED, hell, even UNCLEAN on their person. For me this is EXACTLY how I feel. I have to collect (this is still hard for me to say) UNEMPLOYMENT...my hard working father would be turning over in his grave...

Speaking now, for myself only, I feel invisible...Maybe this fading has been coming for a long time. Maybe even before I lost my first job. Maybe even before I got sick. But, since I have come home from being sick, maybe I have been forced to take a closer look around me and see that the fading continues. For the first few months I needed lots of help - and I got it from family and friends. I cannot stress how important my friends have been in what healing I have accomplished. Yet, as time has gone on as I got physically better, went back to work and then lost my job a few weeks ago, the invisibility increases.

Clearly there are many things I am dealing with, but one of the anchors in our lives --- at least from what I have been forcibly been faced with discovering is that EVERYTHING stems from having a JOB. Some people say that is shallow but making a living is the root of all --- it doesn't even matter WHAT I do anymore, but having SOMETHING that brings in money and makes me a contributor gives me some value. So, I guess I struggle on. Invisibly until I can come home and announce that I have a 'job' and am worthy, once again of SOMETHING. Until then, I will try to hide the embarrassing 'U' floating above my head and just try to deal with miserable invisibility that has has become my life.

Phase 31: Writers Block of Embarrassment

2011-11-09T13:21:00.000-08:00

   Three-weeks, two days, six hours and a few odd minutes ago I was 'laid-off' a job I had been doing for just over a year. I was just settling in, getting comfortable with the flow of work, getting a handle on the new skills I had been taught. I had also recently switched divisions within the company - having studied hard and passed a state certification test for the position - and then, once again, with no indication there was an issue, I was given the 'sit-down', during which the whole nature of the economy was explained to me as being the reason that they had to 'let-me-go'....
   Why do they always say that like it is some kind of 'relief' or 'comfort' or 'reward'? What they SHOULD say is, "You know, you are doing a good job, but, we gotta kick you out on your ass! Here you go! Good luck! Hope you don't lose everything!"
   Or even better, "Say, you know what there are 40 people in our company, and GUESS WHAT! You WIN! You get to clean out your desk and go! We like you and every thing, but, you know out of all the people her, we thin YOU are the one that needs to go. Good luck.!"
   Or, this..."Come in, have a seat.... Can I get you a cup of coffee? Manager moves to the machine... you notice he gets a styrofoam cup from the drawer, NOT a nice ceramic one with the company logo on it. Pours you a cup --- not offering cream and sugar --- walks back BEHIND his desk, stretches in his leather chair, takes a deep breath and goes into a story about how he started the company...blah, blah, blah....and after 10 minutes of this crap you get the sense of where he is going....you will NOT be offered a raise and a promotion, he takes a pause and says, "Well, mmm, this is the hardest part of my job. I gotta let you go."
   So, now, like some scene out of an old west movie, another pause he looks at you....watchng, waiting, for a reaction. Maybe he is thinking, "Will he throw the coffee at me? Does he have gun, will he draw? Will he go all Hulk and flip over my desk? Will he get up and storm out?........Will he break down and cry like a little baby.....?"
   So, I sit there....staring into the awful cup of coffee in the styrofoam 'you're disposable' cup, pondering all but the gun thing....since I don't own one anyway, and I look him, dead in the. I take a deep breath, while trying to keep from either puking, or pissing my pants over suddenly losing my job, and I say, without a quiver in my voice, or a tear in my eye (proudly), "Thanks for the opportunity to work for you. Since this is a lay-off, how soon can I expect to be called back to work?" He looks at me like I just asked the dumbest question in the world, "Well, uh, mmm, er...I don't know, we will, uh, why don't you go see the HR guy they will help you get set up with unemployment." He stands, extends his hand, I give it a firm shake, and proceed to my desk, then to my van cleaning out all my stuff - watched the whole time and escorted by the HR guy --- people these days must really fear that ex-employees will either rip them off, or go 'postal'.
   Once outside in the parking lot, I stand next to the stack of 6 boxes, my brand new thermos full of hot coffee that was supposed to get me through the day, my neatly packed lunch box containing, a ham and swiss cheese sandwich - with dijon mustard - a bag of cheetos, butterscotch pudding, and a banana, I stand there, shocked and directionless, and all I can think of is .... 'fuck' what do I do now.
   Well, I won't go into all the details - I did that the LAST time I blogged, and these past few weeks have been pretty much the same as they were almost two years ago. No job, no savings to speak of, not idea what the hell I am going to do. A family that has no confidence any more in anything I attempt and a realization that I am faced once again - like so many other Americans - saying, "God, I'll do ANYTHING." This time around though things are a little less devastating than they were before... My resume needs only a couple of lines of updating, I have a bank of cover letters stored on the computer and I am at least eligible for unemployment compensation so I do have SOME income to count on sooner or later.
   During this venture into the land of unemployment I have tried to institute some kind of 'plan' in the hopes that this will yeild a job quicker than the 10 months it took me last time. So during the first week of this employment quest, I sat down at the computer and plotted out a daily plan....Get up, get dressed, see the kid and wife off to school, walk the dogs, eat some breakfast, sit at the computer and fill out on-line job aps, have some lunch, work in the studio, fill out some more job applications, pick the kid up, make dinner, spend time with family....wash, rinse, repeat.... Great idea. Great plan....it lasted about 3days. For reasons including a horrible chemo thereapy treatament (see my other blog, www.secondbattle.blogspot.com) the plan has not worked well. The following week I was exhausted. I think a combination of chemo, and mental drain from the anguish, embarrassment and uncertainty surrounding having no job, I could literally get almost nothing done.
   Nothing seemed worth it. I'd get up, do the morning thing of seeing everone off, talk about my plan for the day, then sit in the chair. The dog would crawl up into my lap and the next thing I know it was 11:30 a.m. the morning wasted. So, what. I'd let the dogs out, get some lunch and coffee, crawl back into the chair where either the dog would return to his sleeping spot, or the stupid cat would take over. I'd watch an episode of house or a movie, then fall back asleep, and then would wake up in time to get the kid from school, come home and tend to dinner.....wash rinse repeat. In essence I think I feel like I have given up. I continue to apply for jobs on the internet, hoping that SOMEONE will call me for an interview, but I hold out little hope for that, in this economy.
   What really gets me this time around is when I spend time analyzing myself as a potential 'employee', and the list of valuable assets given where we live and try to work is pretty damn, short. WARNING THIS NEXT SESSION IS RIDDLED WITH SELF-PITTY AND REGRET: I do not have a 'profession'. I never really have. When I entered the world of work as a college graduate I was in a field that was on the downswing even then - photojournalism. Sure, I worked in that field for a while, but eventually the business has changed so much that even all the experience I had amassed - nearly 15 years is fairly worthless - especially since the only real newspaper in town offering full time jobs is a UNION paper and without 5 years experience at a union paper, you don't even get an interview - trust me I know. Technology has also sapped my chances to return to photography as a career. Almost all new cameras make it fairly easy for anyone to capture the news and events of the day, and with the shrinking of physical newspapers, and explosion of digital media - the pay is worse than minimum wage and no one hires full time staffers any more anyhow.
   So that leads to my second career - teaching. My main stumbling block here is the fact that I have no 'state-teaching-license' for public schools. In my areas of training at the time, Phys-Ed and Computer Technology, none were required. I had been on a track to get a Masters in Education, but that got side tracked by a host of life issues at the time I was trying to finish my degree; deaths in the family, births in the family, home purchase, job changes. SO, I found myself plodding along on past experience and a thin layer of qualifications in Technology Education that allowed me to work in that field for another 10 years or so.
   As I should have guessed along the way, my shortcomings would catch up with me in this day of paper-trails and certifications. Everyone wants employees with lots of experience and lots of training and papertrails of proof that one can do what it says on ones resume. So, I find myself now with a three page resume covering almost 30 years, in 3 or 4 fields of employment, yet at 49, find it almost impossible to even get a job interview. Currently I seem to be either too old, too qualified or too young and not qualified enough for upper management/corporate positions that 'men-of-my-age' should be moving into.
   There is almost some humor that comes out of this. I seem to now be returning to a near fantasy world where I have almost convinced myself that I am a good enough artist and clever enough marketeer and that my artwork is valued enough on the market that I can some how make a LIVING as a working artist. SO I live this schizophrenic existence where one part of my mind is trying to convince the other that it is possible to make living as an artist...and that if I keep saying it over and over like some kind of mantra that it will happen. And the other part of me is laughing it's realistic ass off just knowing that I had better find a 'regular' job - and soon - or I will find myself out on my ass, divorced and standing in line with the guys down at the Cherry Street mission, waiting for free breakfast and lunch with all the other losers who cannot find work. Well, that is where my head is at today. Maybe tomorrow will be different, maybe tomorrow I will bet back on the ball and push a bit harder to get a job, so I can be a valuable money earning provider for the income of my household. At least at that point there will be less for people to be upset about around here.

Phase 30: "Hey, Scott. Can I see you in my office for a minute?"

2011-10-28T16:15:00.000-07:00

NOTE: I had hoped to put to and to the chapter of my life called the 'unemployment period", I really had. I you have read previous chapters of this story, then you will be familiar wit the mental, spiritual and psychological ride that it was as I struggled to find work. Ten months went by, in agony, suffering and worry, then I found a job, there was brief period, if not of joy, but of relief, that we were once again a two income trying to make ends meet like the rest of America.

This new job was peripherally similar to my old job, and once the training was through and I had reached the stage where I could be a 'Field-Agent' things went fairly well. Then as often happens after the glow and disintegration of the training wheels come of, the ugly realities of the job stand up and suddenly your realize that for a host of reasons, the job is not for you. So for the first time in my working career, 'I' was the one who was quitting ---- I am not good at quitting, it does not settle well with me. Howeve, I saw that the nature of the job I had, would have probably killed me some time in middle of the winter! I foresaw a home owner finding me frozen solid to their satelite tower, or find my froze crushed legs poking out from under a trailer or crawlspace -- good honest work -- for someone 20 years older than me, and not married, and with no kids...and oh, seemingly it was an unwritten rule that you had be a pack a day smoker.... So, not for me.

As I was moaning (go figure) about my plight and fearing slogging through snow with tools and a 30' ladder, my wife suggested that I apply at a company near her office that seemed to always have a 'We're Hiring Technicians' sign out. So, one Friday when I finished rarely early from my current job, I filled in and application and thought I'd never hear from them -after all until I got the Dish job I had applied to over 200 firms in 10 months. Alas, the following Monday, I got a call for an interview on Wednsday and was offered the job on Wednesday --- "Holly, Toledo! Batman!" I thought, that was too easy! I should have done that earlier. With great excitement at the prospect of regular 40 hour weeks, no weekeneds, no expected overtime, close proximity from my wifes work, and a descent but not great salary (better than the nothing I had coming in at that time*). I thought I was set'

Free of the finger-pain and strange management of the Dish Poeple (movie possibility), and I was thinking I had finally found a job that would last at LEAST as long a my job at Toledo School For The Arts, and would offer the chance for me to help get my family out of the holes we had been digging while I was not working (remember too that my previous employer the first time around screwed me out of ANY unemployment). But, ahhhh Grasshopper, the universe was not done lobbing wads of monkey crap at me..

There is a quote from the Movie "Balls of Fury" that makes me think of the whole cycle of jobs an unemployment.... and it makes me laugh in spite of my situation.

"Ping Pong [job hunting]... is not the macarena. It takes patience. She [the job market] is like a fine, well-aged prostitute... it takes years to learn her tricks.

"She is cruel, laughs at you when you are naked [depressed, dejected] , but you keep coming back for more, and more! Why? [because we NEED jobs] Because she is the only prostitute I can afford. [we often have to take what we can get, not what we like].

Alright, then where does this newest chapter start.

DATELINE: FALL 2010 - I am working. Things are well, I am comfortable in my new job working in the security/and fire protection industry. Over the first few months of the fall I rode along with several techs, getting trained in all elements of the job. In man, many ways this was as awesome new challenge. Through this job I was able to go places most of Toledo gets to see.. .Views of the city from atop the scrubbers at BP, seeing the sun rise and set from the top of 4 Seagate. watching storms roll in and through from the top of Hotels etc. Even the 'dusty-days' which were spent checking units on dusty duct detectors, above ceilings and in steel processing plants. Always, no matter what the job, I knew the day would almost always end around 5 P.M. and the wife and I could ride home, and end the day with an evening with the kid. By December, the weather was freezing, some outdoor jobs were uncomfortable, but we were always busy. I was making money again, feeling good about my self, less suicidal... I know it sounds dumb but I LOVE it when the snow arrives, it allow me to forget much of the 'grownup-stuff' and be a kid again...even for a moment or two. The Holidays passed, the winter got colder and it was about that time that I noticed changes in my body - to make it short here (you can see my other blog @ www.secondbattle.blogspot.com) if you want to follow that sag) I had developed colon cancer.

DATELINE JANUARY 20211 - an excerpt from my graphic novel ['Chemo-Radiation Man'] -- kinds of puts in perspective where my head was at the time;

"Once inside the room, the doctor spoke. "Reg, please have a seat."
After they had both settled, Reg in the patient chair. Warfel on the squeaky exam stool. The doctor opened the chart.
Silently he flipped several pages.
Reg, could tell this man never played poker, he could read his face before he spoke.
"The tests show conclusively that you have colon cancer. Stage II." the doctor, looked at Reg, did what he was trained to do - wait for a moment for the patient to absorb the news. He noticed Reg struggling to breathe normally.
"What?...What?... You said.... Cancer?" Reg stood, he wanted to pace, to catch his breath, to regain his composure, but there was simply no space for it in the small exam room.
The doctor went on, "Yes. Stage II colon cancer. You will need surgery, chemotherapy and radiation." more pages flipped, the doctor again trying to let the news sink in.
"We should schedule surgery and put together a plan....." the doctor couldn't finish his sentence because he saw Reg, slump against the wall and slide down to the floor, having trouble breathing.
The last thing Reg heard was, "Chemotherapy and Radiation" then his world went dark, he felt himself trying to hold himself up, but his legs gave out, then darkness.

The charcter Reg, is (Mostly based on my experiences) finds it a growing difficult balancing his hob, his life and his health.

Returning to my current situation, back in March 'I' was the one asking to "see my boss in HIS office" - kind of a turn around.
It was time to tell them that, despite having ben there only 5 months I was going to require 3 - 4 months off of work to deal with surgery, recovery and treatment. To be perfectly honest, I was fully expecting them to say, "Well, then, Mr. Lightfoot. Thanks for your services, turn in you uniform, id's tools, and badge. We hope things go well and good by...." Well, I could not have been more surprised and relieved (especially in this economy) when he said, "Wow, that will be a tough one. We want you to get healthy so you can go back to works soon." I was now confused -- not at all what I expected. Then, he followed up with, "Well, [tap-tap on his keyboard - I was STILL thinking he was looking at ways to get rid of me!] I see hear, you only have 1 vacation day built up, and unfortunately we cannot PAY you while you are off, but your JOB will be here when you can return to work. Good luck and keep us posted on your conditioned.
I walked out of this bosses office with a deferent type of confusion than when I walked out the doors to TSA. I was relived that I had a place to come back to when I was ready.

* NOTE: As an editorial note...and a critical point to those who may not have read my other posts, I MUST at this point mention the overly generous and outstanding support that my family and I received both during my 10 months of job hunting, then followed by another 6 months of support while I had surgery, radiation and now chemo. It is in no small measure that due to the continual love support (and occassional -ass kicking) that I am even here writing this, when it would have been so easy to go 'Kurt Cobain' on myself, or Jim Morrison (glad I can't afford whiskey and pills). I just had to remind people that whether your situation is losing a job, or dealing with a major illness, or losing a spouse or a business, it IS fucking difficult to stand back up, but as corny as it sounds if you let those closest to you know what is going on, and (here is the kicker) YOU must be WILLING to LET GO and LET THEM HELP YOU !!! For me this has always been the hardest part. I am learning.

DATELINE: SPRING 2011 - March 4th was the day the Surgeons in Cleveland Clinic opened me up, pluck out my cancerous colon, rectum...and uhhh anus, and sealed up the old 'Poop-Chute', 'Fart-Factory', 'Prairie Dog-hole',etc, etc,...TRUST ME I have heard them all by now. My stay in Cleveland last about 10 days more than I expected (but just as long as the doctors told me it was. ) I will sum up my time in Cleveland by saying it is not something i want to do again, and I was glad I was home again.
   Once I got home and began recovery I ventured back into my office, just a quick hello (with my stupid wound-vac gurrgling like some kind of demented coffee pot or ephasemic wheasle on my hip) I told them I would be reqady to go soon... You don't know how reassuring it was to hear the words, "Your job is here. Just bring in a doctors clearance form and you can get back to wokr." I tried skipping out the door like the dude in the 'Saftey Dance' (google them if you're under 30) -- that was a mistake...many, many parts of my abdominal anatomy screamed at me, 'Jeezus you IDIOT!!! You want to go back to the hospital?'

DATELINE: MAY 2011 - April and May were spent doing three things, Radiation treatments (2 x per day), would vac, dressing and undressing, walking the neighborhood getting my strength back and most importantly for my JOB I was studying the 300 page manual on Fire Alarm Systems so I could get certified when I went back to work. I WAS NOT about to lose THIS job because I was not properly certified!!!! So, by the end of the month I had rid myself of the would vac (I was CERTAIN it would be permanent), I had passed my TEST!!!!! YEAH!!! ON the FIRST TRY - SO THERE - 'She-who-shall-not-be-named'!!!!! Ad I returned to work as part of the Fire Testing Division and off I went into the heat of the summer, learning another aspect of our company's business.
   The summer went by, swimming in sweat - not a pool - spraying fake smoke, canned air, pushing reset buttons and setting off alarms...all in all, a lot of walking and considerable paperwork but not too bad -- compared other hobs I have had - like Digital Dish!

DATELINE: FALL 2011 - With fall, comes school, companies scaling back production, or if they are lucky cranking things up for the holiday sales season, and I have discovered that our business is almost as seasonal as farming. Our testing jobs depend on facility schedules; we can test schools (some that aren't doing massive refits) we can test factories and warehouses (same things apply), and a host of other clients during the summer. Then once people turn their calendars to August, the axe seems to fall on testing projects. I found my self with one, two or even no jobs to do -- mowing the grass, spraying weed killer, trimming shrubs. I appreciated the companty trying to get me my 40 ours, but that kind of work is for the teen agers who don't know much a bout 'man-work' NOT for us 'older guys' with arthritis in the knees and undergoing cancer treatment.
   After about a month of this I noticed that my training partner had mostly full days all the time (seniority & his Michigan Testing license help him out, I guess) and I even overheard our boss telling our scheduler, "You gotta keep Wilbur's (not his real name) schedule full first before Lightfoots." He has been there for like 12 years, so I get that. So, I started keeping an eye on the master schedule (we schedule jobs 3-4 week in advance) and noticed HUGE gaps on MY calendar for late October and early November....Plus I heard rumors that guys in our other divisions were being sent home early too - which made me feel a bit better, because I was wondering if all my Med bills had the Insurance company pushing them to get rid of me (????).

DATELINE: OCTOBER 24th 2011 - It was a sunny Monday morning, the smell of the overnight rain and the gas fumes of early morning works going to work or to home. We all left the house, dropped Malcom at school then Cheryl did the cross town triffic drive, and dropped me off as usual.
   I go into the office, make coffee...being the first one there I get to make the coffee the way it is SUPPOSED to be made. I hangup my coat check my calender--- EXCITING!!!! I have 4 jobs Today, Two on Tuesday, and Three on Wednesday and One on Thursday.. I have ChemoDay on Friday....so I am thinking.... "Thank GOD I have real, acutal WORK this week!!! "Makin' money boyeeeee!" SO, I go out and get my job files for the day, check them over make sure I know what I need to do for the day and as I am ready to go, I have my files, lunchbox, tool kit, company hat and coat... keys...phone...Ready to rock and roll for the day, when my boss --- from across the room no less, says,"Lightfoot, Can I see you in my office." -- I hear that from ANYONE and I get the same pee-fear thaqt I did when I was little and was going to get helled. So, go to my desk deposit all my stuff and return to his office, I am invited to sit down - not offered coffee...maybe this is just a quick thing about a cllent or something? - And then come the "SIGH", followed by the "EXECUTIVE-LEAN-BACK" in the leather chair, followed by the "PAUSE" where he looks you in the eye, like a Black Haired Sauruman. He delivers the news...."Scott, this is the hardest part of my job. The part I hate the most." Pause for drama...and for me to further wet my pants. "We simly don't have enough business to support two technicians in our Fire Testing Department...." Pause while I think he expects to see tears rolling down my face (trust me they are there...but NOT for him).
   So in the ensuing 10 minutes or so, we discuss things: No, they are not upsets with my performance, infact they thing I am doing a GREAT job, No, they cannot shift me back to the commercial division because they already have enough people, the same for the residential division....just simply not enough work to keep me around. I ask a bout a possible pay cut, NO. I ask about going part time, NO...So, no luck, other than a firm hand shake and the knowledge that when business does pick up (2 days? 2 weeks.? 2 years?) they do have qood rep for hiring back past employes...So who knows.
   There it is, unemployed again. It took me about an hour to clear my van and desk area of my tools and clohtes and knick-nacks from my desk - they were just getting the dustring of employment longevity around them too - I packed up my stuff in Cheryl's car, tried to text her with the news...she didn't answer so I sat there in the parking lot, crying like a baby, wondering, once again, how long it will take me to find my next job.
   Two pieces of advice to all of you STILL working.... 1) Keep your resume updated, keep your contacts fresh and 2) EXPECT that you will be invited to "Come in to the office..." for the 'chat' BE PREPARED...

Phase 29: "A day that will live in infamy..." (for me)

2011-02-13T11:00:00.000-08:00

You would think that 'time-heals-all', 'this-too-shall-pass' and 'water-under-the-bridge' are all things that would easily describe the year that has passed since I was fired from my position as a Technology Director. You would think.

In some ways it has, in all too many it hasn't. Reflecting on the past year has taught me many things - about myself as an employee, as a member of a family, as a member of a community of friends and as an individual. Some things have been very painful, some very liberating, some reassuring and some daunting.

I would like to be able to tell a phenomenal Hollywood-esque story of a rise from the ashes to a new position from which I could look back and say, 'Ah, well... in the end it hasn't been THAT bad.' But do do that would be to create a work of fiction - maybe a good one, but I have striven to keep this blog as 'real' as possible. Instead this past year would be more like a Lifetime-esque story of a beautiful relationship gone horribly wrong, of a union of spirits that were ripped apart by powers that they could not control - that would be more like it.

PROLOGUE: A man, having fallen out of a relationship, wanders the mean streets seeking his next great love. He struggles, anguishes and hopes for a new star to shine. Eventually he finds one, after seemingly pushed to the edge of despair. Finally, after early giving up he meets up with a new, love that makes him forget the former one.

ACT 1: Starstruck
As in any new relationship, that heady feeling of finding the perfect fit fills every waking moment, and every sleeping dream. New experiences every day. New adventures. New ways in which to explore the growing love between them. The act ends with a hand-holding walk into a seemingly brilliant sunset, with hearts swirling above their heads.

ACT 2: Growing Together
O.K. with the new love growing between them the employee and the job grow, expanding, discovering and at times struggling with each other. Always though the love between the worker and the work keeps overcoming any anxiety between them... There is nothing that seems insurmountable. Like any relationship the love ebbs and flows, yet in the end, all seems well. The act ends with the couple comfortably together, recognized by friends and colleagues as a 'good-fit'.

ACT 3: Contentment Breeds Impending Doom
The relationship has progressed to a level where both are comfortable in the day to day activities that define them in their new roles. All seems well. The employee knows his role, the employer seemingly lets the employee continue to grow. With repetition comes strength, but also with repetition comes encroaching blindness. The vigilance an employee needs to keep sharp at his job begins to dull as things seem to be cruising along with few issues. However, like a romantic relationship, if attention is not paid to grow and nurture it, the potential for disaster begins to arise. Here is where I went wrong. I forgot to stay sharp. I forgot to keep my skills fresh. I forgot to watch for those who would seek to push a wedge between employee and job. I neglected to notice the oncoming storm. Whether or not I could have avoided it is not clear, but I could have been much better prepared for the onslaught that was to come.

ACT 4: The Axe Falls
One day, the story goes, I go to work, everything seems fine. The 'love' and the 'relationship' seemingly intact, cruising along nicely. There seems to be nothing that could separate me from my love. Then, like some perverted soap-opera, I walk into a situation where, despite it all, I get the proverbial 'kick-in-the-the-crotch' (see the very first post in this blog).

EPILOGUE: Thus ends the first part of the story. How I got to the year that was and how I have been trying to move along. But, in the end, as silly as it sounds, the rending apart of my relationship with my previous job is still a very painful wound. I still long for the connection. I still hold on to every small indication that somehow the relationship can be rekindled. Despite the pain of the break-up, despite the attempts at growth and healing, I still feel that, given the proverbial 'second-chance' I could fix what was wrong and revive the relationship that I was forced out of. So, who knows. Maybe it will take another year, more reflection and better efforts to get another chance. Then too, like many real relationships, I am pining for things that can never be, and I should really just move on... Stay tuned.

Phase 28: Working For The Weekend

2010-11-19T20:04:00.000-08:00

Getting paid to do what you love. Isn't this what we all hope to be doing? For those of us who have been in the world of work, think back to the days when all the doors seemed open before you and the choices of what to do with your life seemed limitless.

Now crank the projector of time a bit, slowly now, not too fast. Take a few moments and reflect. What did you want to be? An Astronaut, a Doctor, a Race Car Drive, a Teacher, a Chef, a Carpenter, heaven forbid, a Rock Guitarist, a Painter, a Photographer, an Actor, a Dancer.

I believe that until you have experienced the sudden loss of a job, for whatever the reason, and you are left with huge spans of time in which to ponder these questions, you never really do, and in my case that has been an experience that has left me at times agonizing over past mistakes and choices, and at other times the experience has allowed me to re-awaken my creative energies and see new possibilities - even in the face of being middle age - possibilities that seem unfettered by the fact that I am almost fifty, possibilities that show me there is still much life to be lived, and that the personal pursuit of happiness will be tied to my ability to shape my life in such a way that my 'job' will open the doors to the kind of 'work' that I really want to be doing.

So, here I am, living in the work-world again, and more than ever I wake on Monday, already looking ahead to the weekend. Actually, to the next evening I can come home and get out to my studio, to pursue my artistic work. No, don't get me wrong. I really like this new job. It offers a nice combination of pay and daily challenges, more importantly it leave open the time I need to develop my art, to market my self and to work towards the time when I can support myself doing what I WANT to do instead of doing what I HAVE to do.

Things are happening. The energy is moving me in the direction I need to go. I am under no delusion that I will get there over night, but for the past 20 years I have in one regard wasted so much time in self-doubt, living in a world of compromise that has at many times pushed me nearly so far from what I want to do that it was nearly forgotten, nearly mothballed in my psyche, but yet in many ways has always been there, under the surface, waiting for me to come to my psychological senses and stand up, shake off the shackles of indecision and move ahead.

As I have never intended to be rich or famous, but realize that it IS wholly possible for me to make a living, doing the creative things I want to do and spend what ever time is left to me pursuing things I love rather than just pursuing a paycheck for the sake of a paycheck. No longer do I feel that I will spend the rest of my 'work-life' toiling just to make ends meet, doing work I don't enjoy making money for someone else.

Phase 27: "Hi Ho! Hi Ho! It's off to work I go!"

2010-11-10T19:39:00.000-08:00

So, a new day and a new job dawns a few hours from now. Recently I have been thinking more and more about work. The whys, the wherefores, the meaning, the reasons we all do what we do and have begun to redraw the picture in my head.

Work - it is defined by each person. Each of us must decide how to balance our work lives, our family lives and out social lives so that we make ongoing strides to get to where we all want to be. My goals and plan is different than anyone else's yet, we share some over arching similarities.

Work will make up about a third of our time on this earth and as prepare to enter my 4th decade of work, I look at things a bit differently with each passing year.

Work is SUPPOSED to help you reach the goals you have set. Work is supposed to provide for the needs of your family. Work is supposed to provide for the expenses of your golden years. That is the way it is supposed to be.

So, what are the answers? If I HAVE to work to the end, how can I change what and how I do it so that I can get the enjoyment out of work that I want? I think I need to continually redefine 'work' and to adjust my efforts to get to the point where I end up doing the kind of 'work' that has been newly defined.
Doing some research on the web, I found a good quote about work that I will use to pick apart a new plan...

A man at work, making something which he feels will exist because he is working at it and wills it, is exercising the energies of his mind and soul as well as of his body.

This passage pretty much hits the nail on the head. Work, for some lucky people IS just this - the feeling that what you do matters beyond the simple doing, beyond (or besides) the pay check that comes in for the doing. In fact, this kind of work would be done even if it was being done for free. And to summarize, if you are happy in what you do, you will do it better, and that results in less stress about 'work' and a hopefully healthy life. But, I maintain, that for the majority of people, this is patently NOT what 'work' means in our real lives. For most (and myself included) work has simply become away to make money to pay bills. There is little real enjoyment, there are three things that we look forward to; the end of the day, the end of the week and the paycheck. If we can somehow force ourselves to get up and repeat the process every day, we have a good chance of meeting our needs.

Memory and imagination help him as he works.

Here is where things get sticky, and here maybe a year or so ago is where I got both lazy, complacent and forgetful of what is expected, and more importantly respected by the employer. I had been at my previous position for nearly five years, and had become comfortable. Comfortable in my head thinking that I knew enough about my job, and was secure enough in my position in my company that I could expand my involvement in the company to encompass areas outside my 'job-description'. Unfortunately, my supervisor felt this was not the case. So, last winter, through a combination of lack of foresight of the changing demands of my job, and loss of perspective in the belief that I could become more than my job required, I was fired, in part for just what this quote says... having an imagination beyond my job. In fact I WAS enjoying immensely the expanding opportunities for creativity within my job, which, unbeknownst to me was perceived as 'lack-of-focus' on my 'job' and so out the door I went. Lesson learned, manage your expectations, keep an eye out for those around you who want to see you fail, work to improve your skills and never quit looking for the next opportunity.

Not only his own thoughts, but the thoughts of the men of past ages guide his hands; and, as part of the human race, he creates.

Now that I have moved from one job to the next, what kind of perspective do these last few months give me? How can I put this in some kind of context that makes sense? I am now 48. I have a kid in college. I have been married for 21 years. I have another kid working his way way towards being a teen-ager. I have a handful of aging guy medical issues. I have watched elderly relatives pass away - and friends too. I have been through the emotional wringer over employment and finances. I have begun to look ahead and fear for many aspects of my future (whether realistic or not), so how can I ground myself through this within the context of work?
My father and grandfather were both carpenters - men who worked with their hands - men who knew the same kinds of struggles, men who raised kids and grandkids. Both these men set examples for me to follow, some good, and possibly some not so good, but overall they always did the best they could for their families. They provided not only the essentials, but more importantly the intangibles that you cannot quantify.
They were also creative men - they worked with wood, leather, beads, feathers and paint, and the pride that they took in their daily work was also present in their artistic efforts, even though they would not have considered themselves 'artists' - they were certainly not recognized as such. But through them, I learned much. By watching them I saw and learned the importance of giving full effort, of completing a project from beginning to end. Maybe this is also part of the reason that was so hard for me to give up and just quit when things got ugly this past winter and spring.
As I have noted in past posts, moving on has not been easy, in fact it has been horribly humiliating and difficult at times, but I struggle on. The experience has also changed the way I look at things. The experience has changed the way I look at my future; from work, to my art work, to my health to my family, all things that we go through in life and only casually glance at, at lest I was guilty of this, casually taking advantage of each day, never really connecting with the important elements, never really grasping the things that slip by each day.
I have learned that as corny as it is, so many things matter more than work, especially when the work you do offers little beyond a paycheck.
I have learned that many things matter more than I used to believe they did:
-the simple fact that I have a wife that has stuck with me through thick and thin
-two healthy good kids that offered us no more than the typical concerns as they grew up
-I really, really, REALLY need a handful of friends that will offer their honest opinion and a sympathetic ear -- both when we need them.
-it is just as important to take an afternoon walk as it is to cash a paycheck
-I need my dogs. They listen and love unconditionally when no one else seems to care.
-a hot cup of coffee with a good friend can keep me grounded
-the creation of art is much more important than I ever realized, for a whole host of reasons.
-I do not want to live my life in the pursuit of money for moneys sake -- especially if all the money is doing is allowing me to get by and not to get ahead, not even a little.

If we work thus we shall be men, and our days will be happy and eventful.
William Morris

Phase 26: "Should I Stay, or Should I go?" Transitional Experiences

2010-10-18T08:39:00.000-07:00

Well, the 12th of October marked eight months since I lost my job. If you've been following my blog, you should understand that the experience for me has run the gamut from shock to confusion, into depression and reconstruction, and out the other end to employment. All in all, not an experience I would recommend for anyone, but one that can lead to many revelations about ones' life and a better understanding of what is important in your life.

Stepping out of the abyss that is unemployment required that I shift my thinking in many ways, and finally in July (oddly on the 12th) I was finally hired after over 200 application filings, a dozen or so interviews and lots and lots of coffee and supportive conversation with friends. As odd as it seems this experience of reentry into the job-force has set me to continued thinking about the nature of work and how it fits into our lives. As I discovered during my unemployment time (Phase 8 or 9 I think) that the thing we define as 'work' fills a 40 hour a week hole in our week, that when missing leaves us worse than empty. Oddly enough, I have discovered that simply 'filling-the-hole' with another job, is just about as bad. So, the question for me has become.... "Should I stay or should I go?"

Borrowing from 'The Clash' .....

Darling you got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?

Alright, I have been reemployed for a couple months now. I have made it through my initial training period, have a grasp of the basic skills required for the job, and have ventured out on my own for a few weeks now, testing the waters in a new profession. What I have discovered is this; the job I used to have required a totally different 'kind' of work that I am doing now. The new job is exhausting in it's own ways, has it's rewards, once I look past the pains and is something I think I cold manage for a while.

But, it is not a life-filling experience, not something I see myself doing for the next phase of my working life as I approach retirement. So, as I said in my last post, I am now always keeping my eye out for something else...if not for the 'fulfillment-factor', but for the 'insurance-factor' should this current job collapse underneath me. Always looking, always making contacts, trying to have a bit of control, a bit of choice in where I end up next.

If you say that you are mine
I'll be here till the end of time

In case you are not young enough to realize, or you are old enough that you just don't care any more, we are living in an employment economy that is build (in my opinion) on shifting sands and there is no one who really knows how to shore it up or when or where the next 'collapse' will occur. For me, gone are the days where someone graduates from high school or college, enters a job at 21 or 22 and works at the same place until they retire 30 or 40 years later - people my parents age were the last generation who lived in an employment economy like this.

What I have noticed is that there seems to be a broad, almost 20 year cycle (that I have lived through at least) where the economy seems to need to re-boot or re-tool itself in order to encompass larger changes in the work economy. Looking back at the late 80's, I had just graduated college, entered the work force and was trying to establish myself as a young professional -- then came the first collapse (for my generation) and I spent several years working multiple jobs simultaneously trying to fill that 40 hour a week hole and pay my bills ---- "Welcome to the real world.." was the mantra every time I would complain.

The next phase for me included marriage, a battle of cancer, our first child, a couple more job changes, transitioning from 'apartment living' to 'home ownership', another child, transition to more (seemingly) stable employment for one or two employers, a life-schedule regulated and built around work, school and home. It seemed that life would roll smoothly from there, but it never really does.

It's always tease tease tease
You're happy when I'm on my knees
One day is fine, and next is black

Another personal discovery for me as I get older, experience more aspects of life, is that is that there is a very fine line between future planning and crushing disappointment, and often times there is nothing that one can do to stave off being run-over by the train of life. As My study of martial arts tells, no matter how good your training, no matter how many hours you put in honing your skills, you cannot avoid the sucker-punches that get thrown your way. I, at least, have spent far too many hours trying to do just that, only to discover that what is more important than preparation is how you react.

One day your economic situation is fine - the next, the gears of your transmission collapse, or your refrigerator dies, or your plumbing bursts. Even worse, illness or death enter your life... Even when you know death is imminent due to disease, it makes no difference. Likewise, when those sudden losses of friends or loved ones happen, we are all forced to put on the brakes, cope with the present, reassess the future and figure out how to move on. None of this is easy.

The same can be said for hopes and dreams. It is interesting to me, again from watching others, there seem to be only two types of people when it comes to hopes and dreams. It will seem cliche' but there are those who continue to reach, seeing their goals clearly in front of them and have (somehow) figured out how to keep focus on this -- despite the crap that gets thrown in their path. Then there are those who, at one time or another, had wonderfully outlined plans, dreams, goals and such and somewhere along the way they simply let go, maybe not all at once it may take years and years but they give up with their vision of the future and simply drift along, working, working, working, until they reach retirement, and death.

I hope that I am the type of person who is somewhere in between. If I have gained anything from my recent job loss, it is that I had become complacent. Happy to continue on and on, enjoying my job, yes, but not really growing or finding any real reward - directly - from my 'job' - other aspects of being there, yes, but my involvement in these more creative aspects were not appreciated, and in the end contributed to me losing my job.

So if you want me off your back
Well come on and let me know
Should I Stay or should I go?

So, after all this reflection and new-found vision, here is the real kicker. I am in a dilemma that I have never found myself before. I am preparing to take a step I have never done before... I am leaving a job BECAUSE I WANT TO. The job I have now does what it is supposed to, it brings in a pay check, fills that 40+ hour hole in my week, is steady, reliable, and unlikely to disappear even in this economy. So, why, after being unemployed would I even CONSIDER giving up a very tame bird in the hand to chase down another one in the proverbial bush? Trust me I have spent many sleepless hours -- and day-dreamed-hours on the road of my current job considering this, weighing the pluses and minuses.

The conclusion I have come to is that I want some control over my work-life. My current job leaves little chance to control my work, and frankly I am tired of giving over, giving in, and watching myself give up again. I have had it with back-burnering-all my plans. The new job which I am approaching, while still in the 'traditional' arena, is structured so that I can put efforts into the things I enjoy and can redirect my efforts toward an outcome where I can spend increasing amounts of time doing what I LOVE to provide for my needs and weaning away from working just for money. I will proceed with a more positive outlook and refocused mission to get to where I want to be for the next period of my 'work-life'.

Should I stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
And if I stay it will be double
So come on and let me know

O.K. I have made my decision to leap from job to job with a refocused eye towards where I want to be. It will NOT be easy. It will take planning and hard work. I have done this before, but the difference is that in the past I spent too much time listening to dissenters than to my supporters. Some times the voices that guide us come from within, but as life progress and we build relationships, parent children and strive to meet their needs, other voices take precedence.... and not always the ones we should be listening to.

I admire individuals - no matter what the field they choose who have been able to listen to their own voice and have been able to progress at their own pace, getting to where THEY want their selves to be. Maybe because I see the future a bit differently now than I did 10, 15 or 20 years ago that the drive for 'work/professional' happiness is more important than ever. My wife and I have raised up and sent off our first child to college - a feat that I can't still believe. Our second child is working his way through the schooling process and has good role models to look up to, so we expect the same thing from him down the road.

I also, with each year, become more and more aware of my own mortality - not to be morbid, but - my biological father lived to be 60, his father to 72, my grandmother to 83. I just turned 48, and depending on the day, my body (or my wife) remind me that I am no longer a 22 year old college student - the methods of their doing so vary from day to day, but I have notice that the cabinet of prescription meds I take to stay alive seems to grow by one or two bottles a year. I don't like it, but when the alternative is a quick exit, I guess I will continue to take them and hope for the best.

So, give all this, who do I turn to? Who do I listen to? Who is there to give me the kind of encouragement I need to make this final employment/work transition? I have begun to listen to and take seriously the people who, for years have been trying their best to encourage my artistic endeavors. I seem more likely to listen to those voices than to the ones that try to keep me down, keep me tied to traditional work/money/bills routine. I actually look forward to this job change with relish, the chance to expand one area of my life and to close down another without (hopefully) too much agony along the way.

This indecision's bugging me...
Exactly whom I'm supposed to be...
Don't you know which clothes even fit me?

This verse hit me rather hard...as I was working in my studio the other night... My OLD job required, dress slacks, pressed shirts, a tie, and comfy indoor shoes... My current job - a company shirt (the same uniform each day) company slacks, work boots, base-ball cap. etc. I have come to the realization that the clothes that fit me best will be ones in which I can create. For a while, I will have to continue with the 'conformity-of-a-uniform' for a while with an eye to the day when I can - like Superman or Spiderman - peel off the clothes of the norm and live life best suited to my skills and desires!

Should I stay or should I go now?

Well, I am outta-here, on to the new job, on to the next step.

Phase 25: Laboring For What? Exactly?

2010-10-05T18:34:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in my studio the other evening, working on a painting, when 'BWONG!', a message box pops up on my laptop screen... "Are you still writing your Unemployment/Employment Blog? I haven't seen anything in a while."

I had to stop and think. 'When WAS the last time I had written? Why has it been so long? Have I drifted so fully back into the 'traditional-workforce' that I no longer have the NEED to comment anymore? Does having a regular job mean I SHOULDN'T contribute to my blog anymore? Does anything I say now, have any relevant meaning to the experience of the unemployed, or newly re-employed? The more I thought about it, the more I realized that by continuing to comment I may accomplish several positive things, at least in my world.

THIS BLOG WILL FORCE ME TO BE CONSTANTLY AWARE OF THE FOLLOWING

1) In this economy, no job is as secure or as permanent as I may think. I could just as easily go in to work tomorrow and be let go after a few months as abruptly from my new job as I was dropped from my last job after five years.

2) The door of opportunity will NEVER open if I do not KNOCK! Loudly and repeatedly. I must continue to scour job placement resources for other chances to improve my lot. If I quit looking I will never find that 'perfect-job' (yeah, yeah, I know...it will probably not happen_

3) A 'job' is what I do to get by. Any position where I am doing something I don't WANT to do MUST be balanced with efforts to advanced opportunities towards what I DO WANT to do.

4) As an adult I have generally worked too hard for too little money for myself, doing things I don't enjoy, to either make money for OTHER people or to make OTHER peoples' lives easier.

The more look around me, I see this as an all too common trend in our society. We train and prepare for one career and life throws wrenches into the machines of hope we have built. When this happens we do what necessity demands - we compromise, we take what is given, wad up the anger and disappointment into that acerbic place deep inside, where it festers, sometimes for years, before it boils back to the surface.

This frustration emerges (in my opinion). ONE, you can give up, bend up and take it until you retire and die - being miserable all along the way - I have seen this happen to many, many people. TWO, you can direct this frustration towards the point where you 'work' becomes your 'passion' and your passion and effort can finally pay your bills, AND make you happy.

Yes, yes, I fully recognize that many people DO in fact have jobs they LOVE and that those jobs provide for their economic and personal happiness. But, my experience has shown me that these people are the very smallest of percentages.

So where does that leave ME in all this? I walk the line...that percarious line between the two, and I think being stuck in the middle is toughest of all. At some point in each day, I have to convince myself to stay on the line and look to the side of the work future that I WANT and not just to say 'The Heck With It.' give up, shut up, grab my gear, go with the flow, make the money, pay the bills, quit worrying about being happy or enjoying what I do, blah, blah, blah.

I have mentioned this to friends over cups of coffee, that I feel I was closer to doing what I want -- and making money doing it -- while I was unemployed! And that every day I continue working in the traditional-job, is making it that much tougher to walk the line and get to where I want to be.

Phase 24: Square Pegs & Round Holes

2010-09-16T08:06:00.000-07:00

   I am nearly two months deep into my new job. Admittedly some of the pain and agony of being unemployed dims with each paycheck, each day I wake drearily to the alarm, each day I don the new uniform, each day I head out in the dark to tackle new challenges.
   I am the peg.
   Unsure of what lies beyond the hole into which I must try to fit myself to. There is more to the circular opportunity that this job offers than meets the eye. So, there I stand, a square-pegged, fledgling trainee kicked out of the nest and on my own.
   The job is the hole.
   I don't seem to have a grasp on all the elements required to complete the tasks at hand. I seem to take for ever to do the simplest task. I feel I have to call for help far to often for me (which has ALWAYS been an issue). The days seem to stretch on forever, few are the days that don't stretch to twelve hours. And then I go home.
   I am still the peg, my home has become the circle.
   Being home is not very rewarding either. I am suddenly conscious of all the things that have been left un-done, or half completed when I switched from 'unemployed' to 'employed. My goal of finishing another quarter of house painting -- no time for that now. My goal of better tended gardens -- my roses are taken over by ivy, my lawn choked by weeds. The list goes on.
   Strive to keep my square shape...
   More importantly my vision of advancing my art work to the point where it can sustain my economic needs seems also to be fading, I can see the edges of my block chipping away. The fire I had for the handful of artistic pursuits seems to be waning... Falling back into the 'crazy-old-idea' part of my mind, back to the the point where all crazy place go...
   The economic realities I face seem bent on making me quit trying to figure out how to put the square-peg of my creative and artistic desire into the circular hole of the world of work in which we live. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to make it happen. The more I think about it, what really keeps me back from this is fear. Plain and simple fear that I may be even LESS employable-at the personal level as an artist than as a 'normal' employee at my new job. Fear - almost as bad as the first few weeks of joblessness - despite having a 'job' how will I get out from under some bills and old debts...
   Some days I dread the mail delivery. Most days I don't check the answering machine. It seems no matter how hard I work, the pile of bills never shrinks. I know my situation is not as dire as many, and that for the most part my situation is of my own doing.
   The Circle begins to wear down the Square.
I go to work. I work to pay the bills. Not to be happy, not because I like what I do, not because the job takes advantage of my skills, not because it offers wonderful benefits to myself and my family. No. I work to pay the bills. Personally, I am sick of it. If the Gods grace me with good fortune I still have a good 20 years of work-life yet, before I get to pack it in for retirement. I am DETERMIND that I will not spend these years angry, pissed off, or unhappy. I don't have all the answers to be sure, but I intend to sort out how to get there, AND figure out how to stay above the economic waterline - it seems that is how I have always spent my working life to this point - an inch or two in front of the 8-ball.
   How to keep being the peg I want to be?
   Maybe part of my state of mind relates to the fact that at this point of my 'work-life' I had always imagined I would be comfortably working - somewhere - doing what I like, building the proverbial nest-egg for the golden years - well thanks to the events of this year, the nest is empty of eggs, and has been refilled with a fresh brood of fear-birds, waiting to push all the good out of the nest. I, with the obvious help of my wife, have sent our first kid off to college - a private one no less. For his part, he has done the academic work, put in the hours for his artistic auditions, but in the end my employment situation has aided him with financial aid... aid that will be lessened next year if I maintain this current job.
   Round holes and Circular struggles.
   Do you see the dilemma? Do you see the cycle that we live with, put up with in this work-world? I know that I for one, am really tired of it. Just so you don't think I want to lie around and to nothing (trust me, I was forced to do too much if that over the past 6 months). No, I just want my work life to be meaningful and fulfilling. Is that too much to ask? I have posed this question to other people and they look at me with a mixture of confusion and anger. "Why do YOU get to do something that make you HAPPY when the rest of us have to go to jobs we HATE?" Not wanting to be condescending, I just look back at them and say. "I don't know. Maybe the question should be, 'Why do you continue to work a job that makes you unhappy, that you don't like, that you hate.' " I don't claim to have the answers for anyone else (let alone myself) but I do know that while day-to-day I have too keep my eye on my immediate economic needs, it is just as vital that I keep my eye to what I would RATHER be doing and work towards that end.
   To do this will take as much work, time and energy as any other 'job' I have had over the years. To do this will take the support and love of family and friends.
   Finally, the legacy that I leave behind will - in my case - not be a pile of money for my kids to fight over, but rather, I want my legacy to be an example of a man who works hard to meet the needs of his family, and does so while doing the things that he loves doing. I want the next 40 years (hopefylly) to be more about reshaping the hole to fit the peg, not the other way around!

Phase 23: Fa-fa-fa-fading away...yeah, yeah, yeah.

2010-08-28T20:04:00.000-07:00

I'm not a song writer, but if I were that lyric would be in my song somewhere. Maybe nestled away in a chorus, or some where in verse two or three.

It kind of sums up where I'm at now.

The list of cliches is long, maybe some of them would be in the song too, you know the ones...

"One door closes, another one opens..."

"As long as you're makin' money, why worry about being happy..."

"It's not that bad, at least your're not in jail..."

As much as I hated being unemployed, the sudden journey back into the job market has been anything but rewarding, or smooth, or enjoyable.

The problem with taking this job, and for that matter for taking any job that does not allow me to do what I really want to do. My sojourn through unemployment peeled my psychological eye lids wide open. The experience allowed me to look at things I had ignored for the sake of work.

Family, friends and relationships suffer. I realized how much I had missed for the simple fact that I have to fill my day with work.

Things that matter get set aside - growing from pesky mole hills into insurmountable mounts of stuff to do. So, when do we do them....? Exactly, on the WEEKENDS. Those short 48 hour periods in which we try to cram all the things un-done from the previous week, and get them accomplished. The problem is, once again, there is little time for doing what we really love doing. What ever that is.
For some it is music, for some it is woodcarving, no matter because we are forced to work, everything else suffers.

The bigger picture, as I am discovering, is that most of us have chosen money over happiness - to The ISSUE is that we have become habitual 9-5 Zombies; get up, go to work, do the work, clock out, drive home, spend some time with the family, wait for the weekend. Wash, rise repeat.

Yes, yes, I KNOW already!!!! Insert cheesy lyrics...

"I've been working for the weekend..."
"Working, 9 to 5, It's just a way to make a living..."
"You can't always get what you want..."

I'd love nothing more than to walk in and say, "I'm done, see you later..."
But as a very wise person, "Never make an important decision when you are tired."

Tonight, I am simply that. Tired.

Maybe I'll be ready to add more later....

Phase 22: "Powdermilk Biscuits" - Do what needs to be done

2010-08-18T18:39:00.000-07:00

So, what is there to write about in a blog on unemployment, once I have attained a job? Would it make any sense to continue writing, or should I just quit and move on? Part of me says, "Sure, just stop the senseless blathering on already!". Yet, another part - the part that has me at the keyboard - says, "You should keep writing! You have a job, but are you happy?"

I think it's more about the biscuits... Powdermilk biscuits to be exact.

"Heavens they're tasty and expeditious..."

Work. Job. Career. Ar this point in life I should be a mid-career professional at SOMETHING, yes? I should, by societal standards be enjoying the tasty biscuits of my success. I should be at the mid-management phase of a job, which will be stable, and provide me steady income until I retire and enter the hopefully long walk of retirement. Instead I am transitioning, yet again to another job, so that I can pay the bills, after all I do have a son heading off to college in two days. I should be able to say, "Look at me. I have done it! I have made something of myself! See, look, this is what a normal adult has to show for 20 plus years after college."

"Made from whole wheat....by Norwegein bachelor farmers..."

But I don't really want anyone to look too closely. By most standards I have done most of the right things along the way; I graduated from high school and college. I got a job in the field that I was trained in. Pursued that until life begins to throw it's curves at me. I changed jobs, got married, changed jobs, got credit cards, got sick, paid bills, changed jobs, had kids, dealt with loss, changed jobs, paid bills, paid bills, paid bills, changed jobs... and so on. Some of life's changes we choose, some we just have to deal with, really, in that regard, I'm not that much different than anyone else I guess.

"...so you know they're not only good for you, but also pure, mostly..."

So at this point I should be looking ahead at the expected comforts of retirement - secure income, helping to provide for the needs of my children as they become parents, etc. Instead, if find myself in what seems like the same repeating loop. I have a 'job' that pays 'enough' to keep us just enough in front of the proverbial 8-ball, to pay the bills. But, I look around and see that though I have "been pure, mostly" I don't have enough to do the things parents are supposed to do - I can't pay for my kids college education, I can't take my kids on summer vacations, I can't buy my kid a car, I could go on but it gets depressing...

"...which give shy persons the strength to get up and do what needs to be done..."

I believe the question that most often gets overlooked in all this is equally simple; "Do you LOVE what you do for a living?" The sad thing is that the statistics show that the answer to this question to nearly 8 out of 10 Americans is a resounding, NO! The longer I spent unemployed, and the longer I spend at this current job, the more I begin to see the insanity of this! I don't have all the answers about how to resolve this issue, but as I see my son going off to college I have made a pact with myself to NEVER suggest he get a 'regular-job' so he can 'pay the bills' or so he can 'be a regular person'.

Personally, I think I made that mistake too many times. As P.T. Barnum has said, "There's a sucker born every minute." That is oh, so true. Very few people - no matter what their education level or job experience really have the strength to take the advice of those around us and then strike out on our own... Part of this is because we have been taught all our lives what it means to WORK, to do something that is deemed 'worthy' by the rest of the world. Very rarely do we listen to our hearts, our souls, and there fore we spend most of our WORK lives dreading what we do and looking forward to 'retirement' - that mystical time in the future when we can finally quit our 'jobs' and 'finally do what we love to do'.

"... they're tasty and expeditious."

Frankly, I'm sick and tired of this philosophy. One thing that being unemployed has taught me is that there is real, economic value to what I love to do, and I don't want to waste much more time, NOT doing it.

Yet the dilemma is this... Here I am again, do I continue making biscuits, making them the same way all the time - having taken a 'regular' job, to pay the bills, to build some kind of hope for the future - or dwo I slam my powdered hands on the table and say, "Damnit! I'm sick of biscuits! I want to make CAKE!" I I don't want to waste much more time making or doing things for someone else's profit.

Phase 21: 8 Seconds To Glory! Riding The Newjita!!!

2010-08-10T19:19:00.000-07:00

One day, a few weeks ago, when I was unemployed, I watched some rodeo action. I remember thinking, "What a stupid ass thing to do!" I almost turned the channel, but much like watching a train-wreck, I just couldn't look away. I didn't understand why until I was on my drive home today, sitting in a construction related traffic jam, enjoying the hyper-sweet goodness of ice-cold sweet tea when it hit me. I was him, he was me, the wild bucking animal with the rope around it's nads was the Newjita. I had successfully baited it, captured it and for the past three weeks I have been trying to figure out how to stay on it - to complete the ride, stay on top of this thing for the full 8 seconds (as required for a 'successful' ride).

SECOND ONE: The Newjita has been penned up in the arena; loud noises, flashing lights, screaming crowds, this will be one difficult ride. Again, I must re-iterate that my experience being unemployed has not been as lengthy as others. Yet, for some weird reason, I am overtaken by the 'wooglies' (see Phase 12). I stand there, looking at this snarling beast. Its nostrils flare with uncertainty - trying to scare me. Its eyes burn with a flame designed to make me run away from this new challenge. It scrapes its hooves on the ground, sending out vibrations, almost on a seismic scale - trying to make me crawl back the 'security blanket' that my insular world of unemployment had created...

SECOND TWO: Then I realized... I'm the Rider! Assessing my situation; boots-check, chaps-check, jeans, shirt, gloves-check, check, check. I climb up the side of the pen. I am wearing a new uniform, attempting a new ride on a Newjita that I have never seen before. As I straddle the corner of the pen, I wonder... "Am I worthy? Did I prepare well enough? Do I have the right skills? Do I really WANT this?" I grab the lifeline and wrap it around my pinkie. I think I'm ready. I nod to the gate man, "I'm ready!"...

SECOND THREE: In the world of rodeo, once the gate is open, there is no going back! So, three weeks ago I opened the gate and started my ride. Since I've been unemployed for a while, I'm not used to the demands and I realize that getting a grip on this world can be as difficult as holding on to the rope when the Newjita breaks free and takes you along for the ride. If you watch rodeo at full speed, you hardly notice all the 'work' that goes on during this intense experience, of riding into the world of employment. Like the rider, I don't have much time to think. I have to react quickly, to the moves of the new beast I am trying to tame. Like the rider, I try to relax, get in synch with the beast...

SECOND FOUR: Oblivious to those around me; family, friends, neighbors, my world has suddenly changed. Indeed, I find myself in a slow motion reality. One day I am sleeping late and getting things done around the house, the next I am dragging myself out of bed at 5:00 in the morning, getting dressed, packing a lunch, charting a new course to a new beginning. Yet, like the rider, I am in slow motion, adjusting my grip on the lifeline, spurring the animal, trying to gain some kind of control over the new situation. It's hard. It is really, really hard. The 'crowd' doesn't get it. Not really. They watch and cheer, but for what? The new job is manageable - the Newjita is rideable. I start to get back some of the confidence I had before...

SECOND FIVE: The ride has proved bumpy, but I'm adjusting to the rhythm, the Newjita not making it too easy on me. Like the rider dealing with arena dust rising, sweat from the animal getting in his eyes, making it hard to focus. So to, I discover that the new job has challenges; its been a while since I worked out all day, in the elements, doing things I'm not familiar with... I hope I can hold on... At this point in the ride, it seems like 8 seconds is forever. I feel that way too. I'm 'in training' trying to do the right things to be granted 'full-employment'. The rider feels his grip loosening. Even through the noise and dust, he feels the creak of the sweat-dampened leather as it begins to slip. My training has these moments. "Damn, this is IMPOSSIBLE!", "What WAS I thinking?", "I can't DO this!", "My God. What if I fail at THIS too?"...

SECOND SIX: At this point in the ride, it can go either way; the cowboy can hold on and get the victory, or the animal can pull that one unexpected move, the one that hasn't been accounted for in all the practice, and throw the rider off - to defeat, another hard landing in the dirt. As I near the end of my training period, I too am nearly to the point where I will be put out there, on my own, doing the job, un-assisted. Don't get me wrong, I am sure I can DO the work, but there is a part of me -- the few wooglies left inside -- that simply want to go back, back to the world of unemployment. Because... it was... easier. Somehow simpler. Somehow I was becoming USED to that world. That limbo-slow motion world, the world of uncertainty, that almost comforting feeling of the unknown. Now I have a job, I must keep a grip on it, a tight grip, finish the ride, tame the Newjita... The clock clicks on, it's movements even slower now....

SECOND SEVEN: The Newjita shifts. I feel his mighty muscles twitching underneath my grip, trying to throw me, trying to embarss me in front of the crowd. I approach each day of this new experience, fully aware of the fact that I am in control, for a change. I can make this work or I can give up, and go back... NO! I cannot do that. I have worked too long these last months, reworking resume, cover letter and wardrobe. I got a hair-cut for God's sake. I jumped through all the hoops of applications, letter writing and interviews. NO! I tighten the grip, and dig in my spurs, doing my best to move the beast in a direction that I control...

SECOND EIGHT: As the last second of the ride begins, I can see the end of the ride, the point at which I can release the lifeline, dismount and face the beast. I will be able to do the same with my ride through the unemployment experience. I will be able to look the Newjita in the eye -- at least for a moment and show HIM 'victory', show HIM what a 'winner' looks like. But only for a second. Like the rider, I know I am still vulnerable to the beast, so I look for the nearest barrel to dive into for safety -- and let the clowns distract the animal, force him down the shoot, where he will be confined again to the depths of my psyche -- where I hope to keep him.

No job is perfect, but having one to go to, does fill in many of those gaps I mentioned in earlier phases. The ones filled by 'work' that give us meaning, that shape who we are - to each other, to our families, to the world.

But, standing there, like the rider, dusting off his chaps after the ride. You can see he is sore. You can see that this hasn't REALLY been fun, but work, in and of itself. He knows - as I do - that in order to be successful, you have to be willing to get back in the pen, straddle the beast and ride gain. We can only HOPE that the time between the rides of 'unemployment' are long enough that we can recover and re-invent ourselves...

...for one more ride.

Phase 20: Suddenly RE-Employed: Or, "Why Do I Feel So Strange?"

2010-07-30T20:01:00.000-07:00

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.

Phase 19: Coffee break's over - Time to get back to work.

2010-07-16T06:25:00.000-07:00

   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....

Phase 18: "Good shot! You've just landed your first Newjita!"

2010-07-14T13:58:00.000-07:00

   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.

Phase 17: Episode 1: "...next stop, the Unemployment Zone"

2010-07-09T20:12:00.000-07:00

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.

"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)

Phase 16: Hey! I think I got one! No! Crap! It's a toilet seat!

2010-07-04T09:34:00.000-07:00

   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.

Phase 15: "Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilson!!!!!!!!" or Life as a Castaway in the Sea of Unemployment

2010-06-17T06:13:00.000-07:00

Well here I am. I have just passed the four month mark of being unemployed and if you had to ask me what direction I think things are going, to be honest, I 'd have to look at you with that blank stare a teenager gives you when you ask them why they have failed a class…. "Uh…. I don't know."

So, as I was cleaning my garage, making room for my art-studio and expanding my home office - I am finding if I have some place to 'go' I seem to be more productive - I have been trying to come up with a new way to look at things, to process the feelings into some kind of form that I can share. As I was cleaning up I came across a book that I have had for a long time, "Desperate Journeys, Abandoned Souls - True Stories of Castaways and Other Survivors" Probably not the most uplifting thing to read in my current state, but I can relate in many ways to many of the stories.

I am adrift, therefore, in the sea of unemployment and my stores of hope, and visions of a rescue are dwindling. My mental life-raft is developing leaks and the sharks are once again circling making it hard to focus on the horizon of my future, as the encroaching needs of the present creep ever closer.

Some statistics to review; to date I have applied for 211 jobs, using 6 different on-line job search engines. This effort has netted me 63 rejection letters (all email by the way), 13 phone-interviews, 8 face-to-face first interviews, 3 face-to-face second interviews and no job offers.

Not only have I been using the new tools of job hunting - the internet. I have actually dressed up in job-hunting gear and gone out and hand delivered my resume to 30 companies, filled out another 10 applications at actual business sites (but this is becoming a rarity - more on that later) and attended one totally fruitless 'job-fair' - see Phase 13. I haven't been this depressed since the initial week of this adventure.

Closer to home, since I am not receiving unemployment (thanks to the way my previous employer left me hanging) so I had to cash in a retirement fund to keep things going while I continue the search. This economic store-house will not last long in my life raft, and I need to find some kind of revenue stream island to land on pretty quick or I might not last much longer out here in the Unemployment Ocean.

Much like the people in the book, as I drift, baking in the sun, with no wind to push the makeshift sail I have created with pasted together resumes, and cover letters, I have spent way too much time the past few weeks agonizing over what went wrong and how I ended up adrift in this leaky boat, floating in an unforgiving sea, and noting but fleeting glimpses of hope on the horizon. Self-pity and self-blame are two mighty strong impulses to shake.

I tire of casting the make-shift net of resumes into the water, only to continually come up empty handed. It seems like no matter which direction I cast (or how I tweak the resume or letter) it makes no difference, and of course, employers NEVER give any feedback as to WHY you were not hired, if you get any feedback at all. Yet, like the castaway, I keep trying. I wonder sometimes what would happen if I would just quit. How long does it take to tumble into despair when a person has given up? I am gaining a much better understanding of those of us who have reached the government bench mark of 27 weeks - the long-term unemployed. I am at 18 now and counting.

So, what does it feel like to be an employment castaway? Let's explore some more. As I have noted, I am past the initial period after being marooned in the ocean. The realization that someone might come to a quick rescue and reach out to me with a new job, quickly scooping me from the rough waters of unemployment has faded.

I have progressed past the point where I view this as some kind of adventure, that might last a while, I might get a good tan, and have some fun stories to tell when I get home, to the realization that I am probably screwed and am out her drifting on my own.

Realizing my plight, I have also been through the stage of 'Well, if you just sit here and do nothing, no one will ever find you!' Where I get real creative, I make a sun-shade out of an old blanket. I weave a net from threads pulled from the edges of cloth. I hoist a sail constructed out of remnants of cloths I happened to grab as I was cast away.

The time passes.

The sun gets no less intense.

The breezes of hope never come.

The storehouse of mental supplies dwindles.

…

What's that? Out there on the horizon? A flashing light of opportunity - an actual job offer? I blink, rub my sun-crusted eyes. No, it's a mirage, a fake, a come-on. So many of these false images are jobs that are available, IF you have $500 or $1000 to invest FIRST. Or, there MIGHT be a job AFTER a year of classes and training - that will cost you a huge chunk of supplies. I try very hard to understand the whole concept of PAYING to get a job OPPORTUNITY. How backward is that? So, once again, I settle back down into the leaky craft, that is slowly sinking… I know it is because I have been marking the economic waterline on the inside of my boat, trying to predict how much time I have left before I am clinging onto a single board, trying to beat away the sharks with my bare hands. I have some time, how much I'm not sure. So as the hunger for money becomes more than a pang, I must keep casting out the net, trying to grab onto something.

The time passes.

The hunger does not diminish.

The net keeps coming back empty.

The boat sinks a little deeper into the sea.

…

Well, here we are then. Yet another crossroads in the journey. Do I give up the notion that I will be 'rescued' by a ship of traditional employment? Do I spend my time now weaving a new net, casting it in a different direction - one that seems to offer me hope? Though I am adrift, I am not without SOME skills. So, with a close eye on my dwindling provisions, and a wary eye on the horizon of opportunity, I will paddle forth in the hopes that I will come ashore somewhere, soon, and be able to live on to tell the story of my journey to others…

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

2010-05-12T21:15:00.000-07:00

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"

2010-05-01T10:15:00.000-07:00

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

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….

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

2010-04-28T18:13:00.000-07:00

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"

2010-04-16T15:23:00.000-07:00

   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?

2010-04-04T14:39:00.000-07:00

   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!!!!"

Phase 9: Twisted Sister & John Locke..."What Do I Want To Do With My Life?"

2010-03-31T21:07:00.000-07:00

   There are quite moments, being unemployed, when I have been too paralyzed to get out of the chair to refill my own coffee. One part of my brain screaming at me to get up and do SOMETHING, the other part of me seeing just how few muscles I can engage without putting my self into a coma. I have found that lowest number is about 3 I think. Not being a doctor I don't know how accurate that is, but they are the fewest muscles needed to change the channel on the remote. Today, it was stuck several times. The first time it stuck was on a channel running 1980's hair band videos.
     Somehow, in the near comatose state I was in at the time, I found myself analyzing the lyrics of Twisted Sisters' 'I Wanna Rock'. For those of you out there who are too young to remember, or who spent the '80's partaking of various experimental chemicals, or the rest of us who just want to forget that we have a pair of electric blue spandex pants hanging in our closet, the music video (remember those!) began with the Twisted Sister band members in a classroom and an overbearing teacher-type screaming into the fish-eye lens of the camera.... "WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE?!?!?" Their answer, "I wan-na Rock!!!" (42 times in the song - yes, I counted).
    Reclining there, that sentence and the screaming teacher/parent face bouncing around inside my head, I found my self asking the same question. "What DO I want to do with my life?" I'm unemployed, but not dead. So, what do I do NEXT? I've had the privilege of doing many things as an adult in the working world. Laying there, with Hershey (see my earlier post about our dogs) snoring happily in my lap, I began a mental review of the jobs I have had in the past and by the time I got to my late 20's section I came to a realization.
    Instead of 'rocking-out' (read, doing what I really WANT to do - pursuing what I am really GOOD at) I have spent most of my working time doing jobs that met my immediate needs, paid the bills, made me feel worthy in the eyes of others, but, really, quite honestly were rarely if ever what I really liked, or enjoyed doing.
    Now, I could delve into further psychological self-analysis, get all Freudian and such, but let's just say that it is fair to say that I, like most in my generation, spent our formative (high school and early college years) listening to others tell us.... "You can't do THAT for a living! Are you CRAZY?", "Why on EARTH would a NORMAL person want to do THAT! You'll never make any MONEY that way!!" and my personal favorite, "We all HATE our JOBS!! You're not SUPPOSED to be HAPPY! You're just supposed to make MONEY!! That's all that matters!!" (see previous post!).
    The more I sat there, thinking about all this, I found my self wondering - out loud, to the dog, who had shifted position and was now looking at me with his half-sleeping eyes, trying to will me further into a coma - 'Why? Why CAN'T I do something I like? Why do I HAVE to be miserable? Why can't I be happy?" Why?
    I need to get this dog off my lap, get up, refill the mug and start making a plan. So, with great Herculean effort, I pushed the 70# sleeping lump of labrador out of my lap and did just that. I took a walk around the house, with coffee cup in hand, trying to make sense of this latest revelation...
....nothing....no sun-bursting through the clouds moment. I think I will walk the dogs...

   Back from the dog walking I resumed the position in my chair, and (as it seems now) apprapos, I popped in an episode of 'LOST'. For those of you not familiar with the show, John Locke begins his part of the story in a wheel chair, headed out for, of all things, a 'walk-about' adventure trip in Australia. At one point in the story he screams at the camera (like the teacher in the Twisted Sister video). "Don't TELL me what I CAN'T DO!!!!", "Don't TELL me what I CAN'T DO!!!!", "Don't TELL me what I CAN'T DO!!!!" That sentence now echos in my head. Pushing me... Challenging me to do what I WANT to do. What I LIKE to do, and to find a way to make MONEY to do that.
    Doing this will be probably the hardest thing for me to do...break with traditional expectations, traditional occupations, and listen to MYSELF for a change... I no longer believe that it is SELFISH to want to be HAPPY and ENJOY what we do for a LIVING.
    I'm 47, if I am REALLY lucky I have another 20 or so 'working' years left. I want to find a way to WORK and ENJOY it, and to make ends meet. I don't think it is impossible. It will require me to listen to my 'inner Locke'.

Phase 8: Sadly...."It's All About The Benjamins"

2010-03-22T04:43:00.000-07:00

     Well, I am now in week 6 of the unemployment experience. I have reminisced somewhat whimsically about various phases of emotions that I have been through, trying to keep an upbeat nature about things. But, being honest with myself in this situation, it does get tougher to maintain a cheerful front as I approach what I believe is a crossroads based purely on the ability to meet the economic needs of my family.
     Again, I know I must temper the fact that my period of unemployment is no where near as long or as painful (yet) as many thousands of others in this country, it is fear of the future that is worse than anything for me at this point. I feel like I am a kid again, waiting for a punishment to be administered - sitting at the edge of my bed, waiting for a spanking.
    As I sit here, in the dark, early in the morning, wrapped in a blanket, coffee at hand, at what traditionally has been my favorite time of day, I now find myself almost paralyzed with fear about what lies ahead. I have that same gut wrenching, pre-punishment fear - the bile rises in your stomach to the point of wanting to vomit.
    Every poor economic decision, or on the job decision, that has led up to this point now runs through my head like some mad Rollo-Dex of shortcomings. Every time it comes to rest it seems to reveal yet another bad decision that has led to my plight. The list in my head is too long to share here.
     In our society we are defined by what we do for a living. More to the point in the current economy it is even more basic than that - it's not WHAT you do for a living that matters, as much as it is do you have a JOB! Sitting at home, scouring the internet for job opportunities, listening to talk radio, passively watching television talk shows, examining my dwindling available finances, I find myself balancing on the edge of giving up. It's all about money.
      No job, denied unemployment, bills to pay, one kid expecting to go to college in less than half a year, the other in need of braces, a house in need of some major fix-ups. It is hard to see any light at the end of the tunnel. Heck, at this point I would even accept the light of the proverbial train - ending the thoughts that creep back into my mind.
    Rarely in my life have I felt the need to just not feel anything - I understand the allure of drugs, alcohol and even the release of suicide that many resort to. But, as I have said, those paths are not for me. The confusing thing is I don't know whether those paths demonstrate great strength of will, or complete lack of will.
   Given the fact that giving up is not on the table, moving on will not be easy. It will involve the pain and embarrassment of self-disclosure of my situation to complete strangers. I know the necessity of it, but it does not make my stomach churn any less. Until, I get another job, I must face the reality of the situation. I am now one of the masses putting out my hand for help. It's all about money.
      I am faced with calls to my mortgage company, our utility companies, college financial aid offices, and the like - forced to ask for extensions, reductions and extra help. Asking for help has never been easy for me, because I have been taught that a a man worth his salt is self sufficient and can get through anything on his own. Now I have to depend on every one just to get by. It's bad enough asking for the help of family, but it is even worse having to talk with strangers - for those of you who know me, this will seem a weird contradiction since I have been told that I never shut up. It's all about money.
   So I will just say that is increasingly difficult to push back these images, as I sit here in the dark. My coffee now cold. I have to force myself to get up and move on. One day at a time, trying to find a new source of money to keep things going. It's all about the Benjamins.

Phase 7: Hidden Wonders..."All your PETS know is that 'Dad's home'!"

2010-03-16T06:51:00.000-07:00

    Despite the thought that I could possibly use a good dose of anti-depressants, being unemployed has allowed me to look at life from many different angles. Many, though, were I to sit down with a psychiatrist, might seem a bit awkward, and possibly reveal more about what's going on in my head than might be prudent! However, I have discovered a group of beings that are more than happy that I am not working... our pets.
    We will start with the cats. One we will skip, she is older and sleeps about 20 hours a day, and could care less about humans in the house as long as they fill the food dish, water bowl and empty the cat box now and then.
    However, there is the other cat - 'The Damn Cat', a I usually name him. Even as I write this blog I have to deal with the stupid cat. He is perched atop my computer, basking in the morning sun. His stupid tail dangling down in front of my screen - forcing me to bat it out of the way every couple of seconds so I can see what the hell I am typing! But, the cat is happy.
    With me at home he has realized that there is SOMEONE who he can curl up next to and force back into sleep - exuding that special Cat-Atonic-Sleep magic that cats possess. This comes only after he is done with his 4:00 A.M. wake up call - which usually consists of knocking various objects off night stands or dressers - making sure that my wife and I are fully aware that it is cat play-time and he is not to be ignored.
     As I mentioned in an earlier post, were it not for the fact that I have to get both boys up, fed, dressed and out of the house for school, I am SURE that I would be uder the Cat Spell until probably noon each day. But. Alas. Were this the only creature I have to deal with....but oh, no... there... are... the... dogs...
    We have two dogs. Both love having me at home in their own special way. Their appreciation of me has to more with their relative age and how I can make their lives more enjoyable based, apparently on my abilities as both comforter, arbiter, or cruel task master. Here is how it works.
   Dog one, the old one, Ginger. Pushing 12 years old (which is old for a Boxer-Lab mix). Ginger has developed age based conditions, oddly similar to my own and for some reason looks at me with that special gaze that seems to say, "Dude, you, of all the humans in this hous, should understand how I feel!"
    Ginger, for the most part, only wants three things. To sleep in her bed, to sleep on the front-porch-couch next to me (now that the weather has broke) and to be allowed to go out side and chase away the various members of the bird and squirrel species that visit our back yard. Besides a good walk, and a daily massage of her bad hip, that's pretty much it from her.
    Now, on to the other dog, 'The Damn Dog' - as my wife would call him. Hershey is a rambunctious 2 year-old Chocolate Lab that has two definitions of me in his world, maybe three. One. 'He-Who-Uncages-Me, Feeds Me, and Lets me Out'. Two. 'He-Who-Must-Play-With-Me-When-Ever-He-Stands-Up-Or-Moves'. Three. 'He-Who-Must-Let-Me-Haul-My-70 pound body-Into-His-Lap-So-We-Can-Take-A-Nap.' Hey, I don't make these names up! Really. Hershey tells me this himself - - - oh, man I gotta get outside and get some air - I'm interpreting dog thought!
   So, given this understanding of our pets. How does this affect me, now that I am home?
...
...
...
...
   Sorry, I'm back. I just had to play the other role - from the pet perspective - that of 'He-Who-Breaks-Up-Slobbery-Fights-Over-Stumps-Of-Rawhide-Bones'. What did they do on the days when I WASN'T here? God, if I didn't know any better they BOTH act like a couple of two year olds! So, I broke up the tussle, freed the bone stumps from UNDER Ginger, who had them in her bed. "Grrrrrrrrrrr." Ginger, (I got the bones and YOU'RE not getting them. - human translation). "Ruh!, Ruh!, Ruh!... Ruh!, Ruh!, RUH!" Hershey, (I - Want - One! I - Want - One!. human translation).
   This goes on for a good 5 minutes before they jump up and are at each other's necks like a couple of tasmanian devils. SO, I pull my self away from my typing, grab them both by the collar, and toss them outside. Ah..... I think I have one! But wait.... Why is it so quiet outside???
    I chance a peek out the back door... Hershey is getting his vengance by dragging branches and wood from the wood pile all over the back yard, and Ginger is getter her vengance, by apparently digging to China through my tulip beds!
"God, Damn it Dogs!!!!!"
---- I gotta go....

Phase 6: "I am the 1 in 10" - In Reggae Lies Hope!

2010-03-12T14:44:00.000-08:00

       Welcome to week 4 of the unemployment journey. The first few weeks were a mixture of shock, disbelief, anguish grieving and even, at one point, a feeling of relief... Then, I wake up this week, still unemployed, surrounded by the growing detritus of printed applications, verification of online applications filled out, e-mail responses of jobs not offered.
      The early mornings seem to be the toughest. The quiet moments before I drag myself out of bed. The moments when all the problems that I face come rushing full force back into my mind, like some kind of mental tidal wave that until moments before had been held at bay by sleep. I can't even recall a dream that would have countered reality. I just recall laying down at night, turning out the light, then waking to the radio. The radio. Maybe that is the issue.
      I have it set to come on to NPR, which for me, usually, is a good way to start the day, no blaring 'bleep'-'bleep'-'bleep' to wake me up, just the warm voice of people, coming in softly. But, recently, there has been little comfort in what they say. As I lay there, trying to pull myself away from the cat curled up against my shoulder, I find it increasingly difficult to do so. Each story ads more gloom to my mood, more strength to the tidal wave of uncertainty that has become my daily walk through the world of the newly unemployed.
      One statistic sticks in my mind... oddly enough the radio show used a song from UB-40, one of my favorite bands.... 'One in Ten' is the title... This is also what I have become, one in ten. One of the nearly 10% of people who are out of work. On the outside looking in... Consider this too.... the band UB-40 is named for the form that Britts must fill out when they lose their jobs! The bands members met in the unemployment line!

"I am a one in ten a number on a list,..."

     No longer am I 'Scott Lightfoot - Technology Coordinator'. I am now a Social Security Number, one of the faceless millions who must wear this badge of identification - now more similar to a number, say on a prison uniform than anything else, we are currently, mostly for reasons beyond our control 'locked-out' of gainful work. And, in this country, having 'work' defines us, makes us part of the greater whole, gives us a sense of self-worth. This may seem a bit melodramatic, but it is what it is.

"....I am a one in ten even though i don't exist."
Nobody knows me, but im always there,
A statistic a reminder of a world that doesn't care."

   Bear with me because I am looking at this from my perspective. When I talk to my 'employed' friends, they are all very sympathetic, understanding and very supportive of my plight, and I appreciate their support. But, I can almost see it - behind their caring gazes - what their thinking... "Man, that sucks for him... I'm GLAD I still have MY job. I sure hope I don't get fired." Now, this is not a judgment, because, to be honest I have had the same experience, when a good friend or two were 'let-go' over the past couple of years. Now, however, the ugliness of unemployment has caught up with me. When I get up and leave, or walk out the door... They go back to their work-world, where I don't exist.

"I'm a middle aged businessman
With chronic heart disease"

   While not yet dire, my situation is a bit complicated. I'm 47. I'm not fresh out of college with a bag full of fresh training for the new market economy. I'm not a single person with no one to care for or fend for but myself. I'm a married man, with two kids - one hoping to go to college in less than 6 months - the other in need of braces. I have a mortgage, credit card payments, medical bills, a ghetto-esque jeep that is falling apart, a 100 year old house that needs a new roof, among other things. Thank GOD my wife is working too. Still, we are now living on one full time income, instead of two. Thanks to my employer, I don't even get unemployment either. Things do not look good.

"A refugee without a home
I'm a house wife hooked on Valium
I'm a Pensioner alone"

   Now, not to put too fine a point on things, we are faced with this... I'm HOPING beyond hope that I get work soon and we won't be faced with the loss of our home. I don't PLAN on becoming an alcoholic without family or friends, wandering around the streets of Toledo. But I do know that all these possibilities have made their appearance like some kind of vampiric demons that flash in and out of conscious thought and fill nightmares causing fitful sleep. I have even gone so far as to make phone calls to lenders and utility companies, and to collegiate financial aid offices. The embarressment involved in making the calls, explaining the whys and wherfores of my pathetic situation, have left me, I'm almost certain, with an ulcer. I know I don't have much choice but to try and be prepared for the worst.

"I'm a cancer ridden spectre
Covering the earth
I'm another hungry baby
I'm an accident of birth."

    O.K. so, as is the case with most Reggae songs, has seen to end the song with a verse that is not qite what it seems - this one for example which reminds me that despite my sometimes selfish thoughts about my situation, that I really need to keep somethings in perspective. Unlike others, I am not dealing with a personal-terminal illness, not battling every day just to stay alive. I do not live in a nation shattered by earthquakes, nor threatened every day by random suicide bombers. I do not fear for the lives of my children being mistakenly killed by a misplaced missile or mortar round. And, in the end. I am fortunate to live in a country where, despite my current struggle, I at least have hope, a chance to rise-up again. Jah, luv....

Phase 5: The Waiting Game OR 'Of Dust Bunnies & Dog Poop'

2010-03-08T05:42:00.000-08:00

    Well, as week two of my unemployment saga came to a close, I began wondering about 'What next?" By this time I had been through the emotional wringer of job loss, the confusion over how to approach the hunt for a new job in an uncertain economy, and have come to the point where waiting and patience will be almost as important as the ongoing diligence of the search.
    In the past couple weeks I have put out bait for the Newjita, and now I must wait to see what it attracts. If you are not familiar with the Newjita, you need to go back to Phase 4 and discover just what it is! So, while I wait, how I deal with the almost mind-numbing amounts of free-time that I face each day.
    On the surface, to the employed people, this would seem a wonderful thing,
"Wow, man, you can just sit around all day and just chill...." a friend told me.
Looking back at him over our third cup of coffee, I say, "Uhh no, dude, it's not like that."
Alright, since I am being honest in this blog, it would be a stretch to say that I have not spent ANY time laying around a bit, catching up on some television, watching multiple episodes of HOUSE or 24 on DVD, or taking a nap with the now 70 pound labrador retriever planted heavily in my lap.
   Besides the occasional nap, not being employed has also allowed me to 'relax' a bit - in some not so pleasant ways - as is revealed by my reflection in the coffee shop window, I noticed that I hadn't stepped close enough to the razor in the last week or so.... Not a good look, even in the reflection. I was beginning to look like one of the guys I had passed in the streets last week. Gotta shave when I get home, gotta get back on track.
     Returning home after having dropped the kids off at school, and the coffee and encouraging conversation, I stopped to look around...What to do, where to start?
     I come from a family of 'list-makers' so, I grabbed a piece of paper and began walking around writing down the things I could do to fill the time as I wait for the traps I have set for the Newjita to yeild up my prey (see Phase 4 to understand the nature of the Newjita). The list grew like the 'Blob' - the old 1950's monster (yes, I have spent some time channel surfing old movies). Upon closer inspection I found that the list would quickly put me right back into 40+ hour work week in order to get every thing done. Maybe I should pare it down a bit. Here is what I came up with, in no particular order.

1) Laundry - wash, dry, fold, put away. Since I am trying to be as honest as possible with this blog, I can't say that I have done ALL the laundry, but at least the baskets are full of clean laundry now rather than dirty, though it all needs putting away!
2) Dishes - usually I push this chore onto our oldest kid. Part of me says, "Give the kid a break!, Your home all day, you can do the dishes and clean the kitchen!" Wait - that's crazy talk, next thing you know they will have me popping Zoloft! I might do SOME of the dishes, but, just because I'm not working does not mean it's a vacation for him!
3) Cleaning the House - this task would be a multi-day event, I can break it down to smaller projects, I may begin there. There are so many places to start; closets, drawers, desks, cabinets, floors, walls, basement, attic, floors! Oh, the floors! The horror! The horror. Some things don't mix well in floor-world; driveway salt, muddy dog feet and hardwood floors. Close examination reveals that the occasional spot cleaning through out the winter has not done the job! A close look at the edges and corners reveal a nightmarish collection of 'Dust-Bunnies' - why do we use this term? They do NOT resemble bunnies in the least! What they DO look like is some kind of a genetic experiment combined with one of the cats for Pet Cemetary. Being honest with myself, I can say that - when employed - I could always put off cleaning these things up. "Ahh.... It's not THAT bad, I'll do it later, when I'm not so busy." Now, however, I have nightmares of the things in the corners creeping out at night, gathering together, silently, like some kind of animal hair, dust, lint transformer that crawls onto my head in my sleep, suffocating me...Oh, wait, that was the cat!
4) Clean the Garage - ahhh, now we are talking, a truly 'manly' task, cleaning out the detritus of the winter, from dirt and salt, to empty boxes, broken stuff and all the things that seem to pile up from Novemeber to the Spring. This sounds even better.
5) Spruce up the Yard - Oh, man... walking around the yard with the dogs has become akin to walking in a mine field - of dog poo! This, I clearly see will be a race against time. I must start here. With the Spring thaw beginning each day that the temperature hits 40, reveals more winter leavings as the snow recedes like a glacier, but instead of cool remains of wooly mammoths, I find myself faced with only the piles left behind by our two lovable dogs. I need to get to this quick! Before the first of the Spring rains arrive making the task next to impossible!
Alright I have a place to start. Grab another cup of coffee, break out the French Maid outfit - no, I don't REALLY have one! Seriously, I don't! - the feather duster and the poop scooper and get to work! The sun will rise, the poop will soften and things will be a real mess!

Phase 4: The New Hunt...for the elusive 'Newjita'

2010-03-05T06:25:00.000-08:00

    A quick recap, for those just joining the game: Sudden loss of my job, followed by days of anguish, torment, fear. Taking stock of the situation reveals a group of wonderfully supportive friends and family who, whether they know it or not, have saved me from myself. Emerging from the emotional aftermath, I am, by both necessity and desire, back in the hunt.
   The prey, a new job. My quarry is unknown. I have been hunting before, but I enter this new hunt with a set of old tools that, though long trusted, may have to be abandoned in order to catch this new and elusive creature - a New Job In A Techno Age, hmmmm. I am hunting the elusive 'NEWJITA'. I love acronyms!
    Yes, the NEWJITA it is. I've identified the name of the prey, so now, how do I hunt it? What doe it look like? Where does it live? How do I track it? How do I capture it? Tame it, and make it work for me? These are the new questions as this Old-School Job Hunter enters the wilderness home of the Newjita.
    So, let's look at my hunters kit, and see what I have to work with.
1) Desire to catch my prey - check.
2) Resume - with which to bait my prey - oooh, this thing looks stale, no one would bite on this, I will have to fix that.
3) Cover Letter - this is always a bit tricky and will have to be adjusted to the individual Newjita after I find its trail.
4) Hunting Attire - oh, man, when was the last time I wore THAT suit? These shoes? What's the saying, 'you can tell a lot about a man by his shoes'? Hair cut? Yeah, get one...Oh, and that 'I'm a rebel so I'm gonna grow a beard' look... I know, as fun as the thought has been, it's gotta go before I show up for an interview.
5) Hunting Method - I haven't been on a hunt in a long time, so I need to pow-wow with some of my colleagues and friends who have and get their take on this new prey, and how to catch and tame the wild Newjita.
    Like any good hunter will tell you, you just don't throw your gear in the back of your truck and go, you must have a plan. You must understand the nature of the prey, the habitat in which it lives, how it behaves, and yes, even your limitations as a hunter.
    Here is how my plan has come together so far.
    I have updated my resume, prepared a couple different cover letters, cleaned up my suit and shoes, (scheduled) some grooming and pulled out the rollodex, no check that, the cell phone, to contact my fellow hunters.
    The first thing I worked on is re-establishing as many contacts in my current and past job areas as I could, filling them in on what I have been up to and bringing them up to speed on my current situation. This process has taken place over several coffee sessions, a couple lunches and dozens of phone calls and facebook posts (I bet you were wondering when I would start linking technology to the hunt!). The end result was this - the methodology of the hunt has changed - catching a Newjita will be challenging for someone like me, who is bridging the gap between the old-school, snail-mail method of job hunting, to the new approach, involving the instantaneous world of electronic 'tracking' of the new prey.
    I see the hunt as two pronged... My approach has been to spend several hours each day 'sniffing the winds' of the dozens (heck proably hundreds) of job-related sites on the internet. I enter information over and over, peruse the prospects that the search engines return. Next I prepare the bait -choose the right resume, include the right references, and attach the proper cover letter... I hit 'upload', and await the baited trap.
    In the past week and a half or so I have repeated this process nigh on to 40-50 times. Attempting to lure prey from three or four different areas, using a variety of tracking and baiting skills. Now the hard part for any hunter....the waiting.
    The second aspect is more old-school. Getting in my Jeep, driving around to the offices of my fellow successful hunters and putting them on the spot - I take a 'rush-the-cave' method here - put a fresh copy of my resume and business card directly in their hands.... you can't ignore, or hit the 'delete' button on a hand shake or someone standing at your office. To me that demonstrates the eagerness of the hunter, the hunger to track down the prey!
   Though my blind for waiting out the appearance of the Newjita is MUCH more comfortable than any tree stand, duck blind and all but the most opulent of ice-houses - I sit in front of the computer, with my Columbian Coffee and a fresh bagel at hand - and I wait, like any good hunter, trying to not get cramped up (cooped up in the house), trying to stay attentive (I finally have all the time I need to catch up on shows on the DVR), or trying to stay awake (there is really not much preventing me from stretching out on the couch for a nice long nap)....waiting, waiting, waiting - for the first glimpse of the Newjita...

Phase 3: Picking up The Pieces

2010-03-04T06:27:00.000-08:00

    Alright, so in the past we weeks I have experienced the Kick-To-The-Groin, the Shock-Reality and the Depression and Anxiety of losing a job. So, where do I go from here. There are several options.
1) Disappear - simply pack up, take what money I can, hit the road and never look back. Not a good idea.
2) Implode - I touched on that in my previous post. Crawling into a fatal addiction may make for a good movie plot, but again, for me, not a good idea.
3) Rise Again - I know, a bit biblical (and in no way am I comparing myself to Christ!), but given my upbringing (see my first post) the most likely and most sensible thing to do. But, not as easy an option as the first two may seem.
   Where to start, what to do? Getting up in the morning seems the toughest part. Were it not for the desire to talk to my wife for a few minutes before she leaves, and the fact now, more than ever I have to get the kids up and to school, I would probably find myself joining my cats in their 20 hour a day sleep habit. At least when I am asleep, I don't seem to be troubled by the issues at hand.
    O.K. so sleeping continually until a new job lands in my lap is not an option, so I had better start looking for another one.
    Holy crap! When was the LAST time I even THOUGHT about looking for a job? When was the last time I looked at my resume? How do I write a cove letter? I barely even remember what to do.
    Sitting at the computer, I realize that my resume isn't even ON this one..It's on a disc somewhere. I spend some time rummaging around my desk, find the disk, dust it off, load it and transfer the files.
    Wow... 2005... the last time I opened this file. Amazing, it seems like an eternity. Before that 1996. Really, just tow jobs in the past 16 years? Is that a good thing, or a bad thing? I can't even begin to know. Looking closer of the 6 businesses I worked with over that time period only one, my most recent employer, still exist. And, looking at my references on this old resume is even more telling one of the four is dead and two of the remaining three have changed jobs at least once. Time to start over.
     Staring out the window, wondering what to do, wondering, staring, like the CD in my computer, just spinning around - - then WHAM! I'm unemployed. The mortgage is due soon, so are the cell phone bills, the utilities... I need to do something!
     Unemployment, unemployment -- oh, my God, I have to file for unemployment. How embarrassing, yet necessary, I know. The only saving grace is that I can file from home - thanks to the internet. No embarrassing lines, no stream of unending questions, no hours of explaining my situation, well at least not face to face, with an actual real person sitting across a gray metal desk, with that ever so caring 'I hope this one is quick, because I gotta pee' look on their face. So, I sit down, sign up, log-in and fill out the forms, click the buttons and wait for the money to appear in my checking account.....which, according to the site, could take 3-5 weeks to happen.
So, the week began. An old resume infront of me and a stack of printed out forms from the Unemployment office. The building blocks of my immediate future.

Phase 2: Peering into the VOID...pulling back.

2010-03-03T08:01:00.000-08:00

    O.K. so, I recovered from the humiliating shot to the groin, dried the tears of worry and disbelief, and woke up on the other side.
    As I spent the first few days of a the 'work-week' following losing my job, it's really hard to capture all that was going on.
    The best place to start, I guess would be how feelings pop in and out of my mind, like some kind of AD/HD disorder. One second, I'm fine, the next;
    WHAM the embarrassment (of being let go), pops into my mind. I push it back by trying to be active...I do some laundry.
    WHAM the anger (at those involved in the decision). I push it back. I take the dogs for a walk.
    SNAP the guilt (maybe I could have done more to keep my job). I go have coffee with a friend.
    SMACK the worry (we still have bills to pay). I update my resume.
    CRUSH the uncertainty (what the hell am I going to do next). I call my father-in-law for encouragement.
    One thing I am discovering is that most of us, no matter how much we like or dislike our jobs, have a built in psychological tool that works both for and against us... I don't really have a name for it, but I am beginning to understand it's function. When we work, we focus on work, all the other stuff, all the concerns, problems, issues that are part of our non-work lives, disappear.
   It seems silly, but being 'in-the-zone' at the job frees our minds from all of this stuff. Now, I am not saying this is good or bad, but when someone or some event takes that away from you, no RIPS it from you, you are left with a huge void. A chasm that was filled one minute and now is a gaping hole in your life. We don't often think of our jobs in this way, or at least I hadn't, until faced with this 8-10 hour gap in your daily life.
   The funny thing is, the perception of this gap differs depending on who you talk to and what THEIR situation is. Here are a few examples of what has been said (I will change the names to proect the innocent!)
BILL - still employed at my old workplace: "Dude, you are sooo lucky. You don't have to deal with all the bull-shit anymore." - Despite everything, I LOVED working there.
MARTHA - doesn't work, her husband makes lots of money: "Wow, you must feel soooo free. You can sleep in all you want now!" - Uh, no. I still have kids to get to school, and need to hunt for a new job.
RALPH - has been unemployed for over 2 years: "It's not the end of the world, man. Now you can look around and find what you really want to do." - A nice sentiment, one that does offer some hope, but how can I do this AND pay my bills?
SALLY - mother of two, barely holding on to two jobs : "This must be awful. Do you think you'll be o.k.? How can I help?" - Suddenly I realize that the employment market in our area (and country) is pretty tight. What WILL I do?
   After a couple days of this, I stand in front of the mirror. I question my worthiness on many levels; am I a good person? Why me? Am I a good father? Am I a good husband? Do I have the skills to get another job - any job? Will we have to sell our house? Will we have to move away from Toledo? Is it all worth it? Why do I continue to try? For that matter, why bother to go on living......
.....Yes, to be honest, ending it all has flashed passed my mind. In the darkest moments, when I can no longer find anything to counter the pain, or silence the voices in my head, all the ones filled with worry and anxiety they have been there. This is probably one of the hardest things about being unemployed, the ease to which you can slip into these 'dark-zones'.
   As I spent several mornings and afternoons, driving around town, reconnecting with friends, dropping off resumes, calling in old markers, anything to try to find work. I found my self suddenly paying attention to the people on the streets. Stereotypes aside, I create mental life-stories in my head for the guy with the scraggly beard and the worn out doubled up shopping bags containing, clearly a bottle of Wild Irish Rose and what look like socks. Or, as I pass the Rescue Mission, I see an old woman and a man, sharing a cigarette, while hovering over their pile of belongings. I wonder, 'How far am I from that?'.
    In my mind, and in my heart, I can see just how easy it would be to give up. To just say, 'The hell with it!' and drop away from family and friends, and just drift away, becoming one of 'them'. I see how easy it is for people to crawl into a bottle or into a crack pipe. But I was not raised that way.
    Like it or not, for better or worse, I have the voice of my Dad in my head, and the support of family and friends, who in all honesty, probably see my situation much more clearly than I imagine. I pull away from those dark places and try to move on.
    So, I pull back into the driveway. Go in the house, tussle with the dogs for a minute, and then sit down to do one of the most personally embarrassing things I have ever done in my life - I file for unemployment.
    As I sit at the keyboard, with the image of my Dad, shaking his head as he watches me, I fill out the forms. I know this will be vital to keeping things going as I continue to look for work.
   I have spent enough time with misery and guilt, and all the other things mentioned above and now it is time to once again, stand up, shake it off and move on.
   I know now, that I am still alive! I still have people I care about and who need me. I have skills that will allow me to get a job! I still have a home to come home to, kids that still think I'm the best, a wife that understands the situation, and is my rock. And, to top it all off, two dogs and even one cat that know only that I am home, and they love me in the blind way only pets can!
   So I will pick up the leashes, grab the dogs and go take walk in the sunshine. Time to formulate a new plan. One for moving on.

Phase 1: The After Shock

2010-03-01T04:26:00.000-08:00

    Alright, what comes next in the world of the unemployed? Or at least for me? The mind-numbing moments following the delivery of the 'letter' went by in kind of a blurr.
   A mad scramble to find enough boxes to move out over 5 years of stuff from my office - all the time deciding, "Is this mine? Does this belong to the company?" While I did a good job (mostly) of holding back the tears as I dealt with the fact of being released, not, according to my employer because they were unhappy with my work, or didn't like me as a person, and not because I did anything wrong. But, rather that my 'skills no longer lived up to the needs of the position'. In effect they suddenly felt I was not smart enough to keep doing my job.
   The ridiculousness of is just too mind boggling to comprehend, particularly since not a week earlier I had passed an important certification exam, which, by its very nature, verified that, in fact, I WAS qualified to continue? Did I still need more training, sure, but again, I was SUPPOSEDLY on a professional development track - established and agreed upon between my company and I that should have filled in any perceived gaps in my ability.
   So, there I was, packing, confused, boxing up coffee maker and mugs, photographs, posters, books, papers, equipment, lamps, plants, everything that one amasses over a long employment. The way these things are handled is nearly inhuman, and at the very least degrading. Apparently ALL 'terminations' are 'immediate' - no chance to say goodbye to colleagues, no two weeks to move out... It's like a forced eviction - get your stuff out now. Period. Oh, and the whole process is watch-dogged by another employee (who is a friend - so it's not something he wanted to do either). All so that I don't walk out the door with an extra pack of sticky-notes, or hand full of pens. I guess I should be happy that they let me go on a day when there was little traffic in the building - saved even more humiliation and made for fewer conversations about what just happened.
    So, I drive home, alone, numb, having not even told my wife, or kids about the situation, wondering how the hell I was going to do that. A huge problem existed in this regard. I was let go on a Friday and our company had weekend long event that required my family to both attend and be involved in the event. I made up my mind to tell my wife, of course, right away that afternoon, but to let the kids do their part for the event and wait until the weekend before breaking the news.
    The weekend went by, it was very difficult, because all of the 'players' directly involved in my release were present. I could see the agony in my wifes' face, I could see the confusion in the faces of my co-workers (who were informed by memo Friday afternoon-they seem to have wasted no time in announcing my departure). What was hardest for me was enduring all the, comfort hugs and hand shakes, and whispers about the injustice of the situation, and well wishing and hope for the future. Sincere support, but at that time the shock just made it seem shallow - and tinged with a touch of relief that it wasn't THEM that had been released.
   This brings us to Sunday. Black Sunday, and oddly enough Valentines Day (wee-ha!). Earlier that day I had shared the news with my oldest, he took it with nearly the same shock and disbelief that I did. Sitting in our living room, surrounded by my wife, my oldest and the youngest on the couch. I broke the news. Trying to make an 11 year old understand the gravity of the situation. It was not pretty. There were tears and hugs around the room. The uncertainty of the situation was talked about. More tears. The whys and what happeneds were discussed. More tears. Finally, a long, painful, silence, punctuated with sobs. Everyone went to bed. On the way to bed, my youngest kind of summed everything up, in his own special way,
"Dad?" he said,
"Yes, what is it?" I answered.
"Why do people have to be so mean?"
"I don't know." I answered as I gave him another hug.
"Dad?"
"Yes."
"I still love you. And, don't forget you're the best Dad in the world!"
Choking back nearly as many tears as when I was released, I hugged him tighter, "Thanks, honey. Now, go to bed."
   I guess as the day ended and the situation had turned from baffling, almost ethereal disbelief that it was all a bad dream, to the cold hard smack of reality that I was now jobless. Had begun to sink in.

What the HELL just happened? (or how DOES it feel to suddenly have no job?)

2010-02-27T17:09:00.000-08:00

    How to size up the sudden loss of your job... I have been unemployed now for a couple weeks, and while I know that there are many, many people who have been out of work for a much longer time than that, this has happened to ME! So, in this case, that is all that matters, at this point, to ME! Selfish, maybe, but factual none the less.
    Someone once told me that an economic 'recession' is when your NEIGHBOR loses HIS job, and a 'depression' is when YOU lose YOUR job! Well, then welcome to my depression. It occurs on several levels.
    Let's start with, hmmmm? Pain. What does it FEEL like to be working one minute, and unemployed the next?
Take a trip with me, if you will through time, back to a different day...
   "God, it's hot! I've been behind this plate fore EVER! When will this game get ---"
   "Hey, SCOTT! Pay attention! The tying run is on third! The plays coming to YOU!", my Coach screams out.
   I glance from the pitcher, to the kid on third, the tall kid, you know, the one that for some reason, at 13 already has razor stubble, and the look in his eye like he enjoys torturing toads? He's giving me the look now.
   The pitch comes, the batter swings and short hops the ball right back to the pitcher who, as he should, flips the ball back to me... I'm protecting the plate, like I'm supposed to... The ball snaps into my mitt, I turn to the left to look back the kid on third, and all of a sudden all I see is his huge right shoe, heading toward my groin, in that special slow motion, spider-sense, that only guys experience when you know you're going to get your first real kick to the groin.
   "OH, Fu--!"
   Now, I am laying on the ground, having felt the actual kick, but that 'special' pain has not quite made it up my spinal chord to my brain. I KNOW it will. I don't WANT it to. And, I fully BELIEVE that if I don't MOVE, or BREATHE or acknowledge the fact that I will be wearing cleat prints for a month, that it some how won't be happening...Not to ME! Not like this! I made the play, I did it right, I protected the plate, I made the tag, I held onto the ball!!! But for some reason known only to God, I still got kicked in the balls!
    Snap back to reality, sitting in the chair, staring blankly at the letter that was just handed to me. Knowing that somehow, if I don't move, or breathe, that this isn't happening, surely if I sit here long enough this will all be a painless joke, some trick from and episode of 'Punked'.
    Please God, let Ashton Kutcher come jumping into the room, "Dude!!!! Ha! You should SEE the look on your face! Man, we just Punked your ass.... See the camera in the corner!"
    For a split second, I look to the door, and to the corner, then... back to the letter. That's when the crotch-shot feeling arises from my memory and descends firmly into my body once again. A real, yet phantom, pain, I can't ignore.
That, my friends, is what it felt like to me!
    After a brief conversation of the whys, the wherefores, of the situation, I realized I had been sitting, silent in the chair, not moving, waiting, waiting, for either the rush of pain, or to wake up from one of those all-too-real nightmares.
    Flash back to the dust at home plate. I'm laying there, the pain has started to reach my brain, you can't really explain it, so I will move on. I can hear the spectators (especially the Dads), exhale, that collective 'Ooooooooh' that all guys get in that situation, when they instantly feel sorry for the victim, and glad it's not happening to them all at the same time. I see my Coach (Dad), walking over to me. He leans down.
    "You've got two choices, boy. Lay there like a sissy, and have me drag you off the field like a dead animal. Or, you can get up, dust yourself off, walk over to that smiling jack-ass, give him the ball, tell him he's out, put your mask back on and get back behind the plate. Make up your mind."
   It took a minute to push enough of the pain away, but I got up and did just what my Dad said.
Flash back to the office. I pushed back the pain (and the tears), folded the letter, put it back in the envelope, stood up, took the offered hand of the director, shook it firmly. He says, "Sorry. I really didn't want to have to do this." I looked right at him and said, "Yes, I'm sorry too."
    I turned, went back to my office and started packing my things.