The Waters Parted and I Came Up for Air

It happened again.

Just as we seemed somewhat secure with our finances for the autumn season, one of my part time jobs suddenly dissolved.  That’s the sort of thing that happens in this economy.  It thrust me back in the job hunt with renewed intensity, and the knowledge that I had a month to get a job, any job, before the bottom fell out of our precarious little boat.  It also meant the possibility of leaving my job at the gallery, which I loved.

As readily as we found ourselves in financial distress repeatedly over the last two years, the waters parted, and a job found me.  My resume was discovered on Monster, although I don’t remember leaving it there, and I received a call and an invitation to interview.  In contrast to the many interviews that were awkward or a bad fit, this one went exceedingly well.  I was perfect for the job, down to earth, had the right skill set and knowledge … all the right things. 

I got hired.

Yesterday, I walked through San Francisco, the third day on the job, and it felt as though I’d never left.  Traffic is worse than it was two years ago, and there are just as many people on the street in the city.   I’m 140 pounds lighter than I was two years ago and more confident, and considerably lighter in spirit; yet it feels odd.  I'm certain San Francisco’s young and beautiful patronized that oyster bar at the Ferry Building whether I was working or not. 

No matter. 

I am astonished by the magic that kept us afloat, and the angels that gave us critical gifts.  I'm surprised I don't regret having to let go of some of my plans, like my tap class. All things in good time, I guess.  I am still hounded by things left undone, things I must finish, and by other things I've committed to do.  But I find myself with less time than ever. This is the trade off for financial security, I guess.  Even if it is only as secure as the current job allows. I haven't felt this tired in, well ... two and a half years.  What's more, I find myself truly missing that little gallery and the people there.  Maybe it’s because it was there for me when I needed a job.  Maybe it’s because the people I worked with are undoubtedly human and helped me get back to myself by replacing the little pieces of professional and personal confidence slowly picked away by the last full-time position I had.  

The gallery was a safe haven.

Like personal tragedy, unemployment is a dark hole that you don’t appreciate and couldn't possibly understand unless you are thrust down it.  Even under the most encouraging circumstances it does subtle and not-so-subtle things to your head. 

When it’s done, once the waters have parted, it’s like coming up for air.

Amma Must Be Due, Because I'm a Mess

Life has been moving 90 miles an hour since my unemployment ran out unexpectedly in September (yes, I’m still tripping on that).  That’s not to assume no good things have happened, because they have.  My weight loss is steady since weight loss surgery in June (84 pounds down), I've been published with a by-line more than once in the local paper, Elizabeth is doing well in school, and Leslie is still cooking up a storm.  Despite various stress related twitches, we’re all more or less healthy.  Yet, keeping on top of home finances without busting a vein has been a challenge.

Initially, I was focused on finding work, and of course, I wanted full time work.  It wasn't happening, particularly that close to the holidays.  Thanks to previously blogged guardian angels, I got two part time jobs that I continue to be very grateful for.  They are both temporary positions I expect to wrap up by the end of March, although there has always been uncertainty around one of them. 

I was determined to get through Christmas on a good note because it’s important to me.  Not because I’m religious in the conventional sense, but for other more personal reasons.  I needed to provide my family with a decent holiday, and I was anxious about it. It wasn't a materialistic one, but it was meaningful.  Both Elizabeth and Leslie were happy and appreciative, and our little tree was the most beautiful we've had in years. I totally fell in love with it.

I've done a lot of worrying over the last four months, which isn't me.  I'm not the worrier in the family.  I'm usually confident it'll turn out alright (whatever it is) and cool with waiting to see what happens.

Lately I've been unable to see that far, if you know what I mean.

Leslie, Elizabeth and I were out last Sunday evening, and, as I was walking around, I felt normal one moment and super funky, I mean really down low, the next.  I thought my hormones were acting up, as though perhaps it was “that time in a woman’s life” (and, by the way, it more or less is, although I like to think I’m being graceful about it).  The melt-down I had the end of the night was inevitable because I tried to push through it, when I should have rested.

The next morning I woke up with my muscles stuck to the mattress, sick as a dog. The whole day was about staying hydrated so I wouldn't end up in the hospital.

Yesterday, I felt much better, but not well enough to go to work.  Still, I tagged along with Leslie on an appointment to get some fresh air. I waited for her in the car. It was the first time in months I've had a quiet hour to myself.  So there I was in the van, jotting down my thoughts on a pad and watching the people go by.  

Finally, I was able to think.

All this worry I'm doing challenges me on a basic and personal level. My last experience with corporate wasn't a good one. It was more like the polar opposite of good, or like getting a root canal that lasts a year. However, despite the personal cost and the anxiety, it gave me a way to take care of my family.  Now, as it becomes increasingly difficult to live on part-time jobs, I find myself longing for the consistency of regular full-time corporate employment.  The alternative, be it writing or another part-time job, just isn't coming through, and that isn't acceptable. 

As Leslie says, "You need to jump back into it." 

How's that for ironic.

My spiritual mother, Sri Karunamayi, is due in the Bay Area in mid-March, the same general time my temporary jobs are supposed to wrap up.  I'm convinced it’s no coincidence that these insecurities around being a provider and corporate work break out of their little cages just as Amma’s visit approaches.  It’s happened this way before.  The spiritually minded believe these things happen the way they do to highlight what we most need to work on in the presence of the masters. 

Well, I definitely get the message.  

Amma must be due, because I'm a big, nervous, worried mess.

Will writing save us again?

I woke up with anxiety today, and I’m not used to this outside of Corporate. I think all the economic nonsense we’ve been through is making me gun shy. I’m still at the gallery, but the gal I’m covering for could be back in a month. And there is only one more semester of college papers before school is out.

Then what?

I called my old boss right after Christmas because I didn’t have her address and couldn’t send her a card.  I wanted to see how she was. She was let go before I was, and then in the following months her husband was laid off of his job, as well, leaving them with one quarter of their previous income.  In our conversation, she mentioned her husband went to a seminar wherein a speaker described the working landscape in Europe as being full of contractors.  People there take a succession of temporary or part-time jobs.  This, of course, eliminates both on-boarding and benefits costs to companies. 

I wonder what it’s done to the workforce.  I know what's it's doing to me.

How do you avoid worrying about where the next job will come from?

I keep hoping, wishing and hoping, that all this writing I’m doing will amount to something. My last press release was published in the Pacifica Tribune with a by-line. That’s my second by-line for the Trib. I’ve got another article coming up this week, too.  And the work I’m doing for the AGP blog gets compliments from everyone.  I’m knee deep in my novel, too, although I’ve done numerous re-writes and changed the title.  Soon, I’ll be ready for Book 2.

I love to do art, and I have a really cool idea for the next AGP exhibition, but my writing is what saves me, I think.

Wouldn’t it be nice if it saved us this time?

GUARDIAN ANGELS

Leslie at Linda Mar Beach

It's been a crazy few weeks since discovering my unemployment insurance ran out unexpectedly; a real mash up wonderful and difficult that never leaves us bored or needing something to do. I've come to the conclusion that being unemployed is a full time job, particularly when the chips are down and you're scrambling to pay the utilities and mortgage.

All financial dramas aside, I think we're in fairly good shape emotionally. Elizabeth found her groove in school and seems fully recovered from the problem she had with the Cabrillo Bullies and other Malcontents. She's got a darling new beau, one who isn't in a rush to grow up much like she, and rather than inhibiting her creative nature like she was compelled to do last year, she is more herself than ever, right down to the set of Pikachu Power Cheeks.

Leslie is hanging in there.  Being in this transitional place regarding home finances has got to be her least favorite place in the entire universe; yet to her credit, she remains poised and engaged.  There are times when, like myself, she feels like her head might explode, but rather than lighting the fireworks, she simply goes to lie down for a while. Suffice it to say this unemployment adventure has forced us to mature in many unexpected ways.  She and I, and indeed Elizabeth as well, are more a team than ever before. What buoyancy we have in the family is due to efforts by all of us to remain upbeat and positive despite the obvious.

Me?  I'm doing alright. Still losing weight although it's slowed down because I'm not working out much lately. I've been incredibly focused on getting work with little time for anything else, and some opportunities have come forward.  Without getting into details, let me say that Pacifica and it's Art Guild are peppered with Guardian Angels and a very giving spirit. Between that and the Guardian Angels residing on Facebook, I feel incredibly blessed by people who are watching out for us and contributing to our well-being in a substantial manner.

Leslie, Elizabeth & The Joker

I'm still in a holding pattern on the BIG JOB in Redwood City, the one that will pay for Elizabeth's braces at the expense of my somewhat reluctantly re-entering Private Sector servitude.    Until I am thrust back onto that Merry-Go-Round, I'll continue to enrich myself at SAC, doing what is highly rewarding intellectually.  When the irons I have in the fire grow flames, I'll have a better idea of where we stand and perhaps sleep better and have fewer disturbing dreams.

The Art Guild continues to be a source of constant pleasure, and as what I'm doing at SAC naturally intersects with it, it becomes doubly satisfying.  Some members are becoming friends in a truer sense, surpassing mere acquaintances to become something richer. I'm doing alot of writing for the Guild and had a press release with my name in the by-line printed in the Pacifica Tribune recently.  That made me so happy!  Opening night of AGP's Member Exhibition and award show was last Friday, and all three of went and had a great time.  I got a lot of compliments on my piece, and those who didn't recognize my work congratulated me on the article.  It was just what I needed.

Gonna be Pikachu for Halloween!  Woot!

I've said it before but I'll say it again.  We'll be in this place, no matter how difficult, until we are released, and in the meantime, we'll do the best we can with it.  It's a lot like surfing.  Each wave is another economic challenge.

Still, if it weren't for our Guardian Angels and their unending support, it would be so much harder.  Maybe too hard.  Offering the kind of help that my parents and extended family never did (with the exception of my maternal grandparents), they reinforce my faith in the human spirit.

If It's Not All Well, Then It's Not The End

The last time I blogged I just found out my unemployment insurance was exhausted.  Don’t ask me how something that important could possibly be unexpected, because I’m still wondering that myself.  My head absolutely exploded as Leslie and I teetered on the edge of a very precarious cliff, neither side of which guaranteed any mortgage payments in our immediate future.  Crisis mode!

Since then, a few things have changed.

Immediately after hearing the bad news mentioned above, I sent out an S.O.S. to everyone I know in Pacifica.  I sent them my professional resume and asked if they would share it with work connections, etc.  And one of those people came back with a wonderful little opportunity for part time contracted work at the local art center. This is the place where the Art Guild has most of their shows.  I’ve been attracted to this place ever since we moved to Pacifica, and the woman I’m working with is at a super busy time of the year and feels that I was sent to her.  Kismet!  I’m learning all about running a gallery, and how to keep artist studios rented and full, and how to run their non-profit business.  It’s the kind of work that is good for the spirit, but not so good for the pocket book.

Meanwhile, I’m waiting to hear on another part time opportunity brought to my attention by an old high school chum who was kind enough to respond to the post-crisis freaking out I did on Facebook.  I mean, this really touches my heart.  She’s a fun, crazy person who has raised four gorgeous, smart and talented children, but I’d sort of lost track of her.  Finding her on Facebook (actually, she found me) was a blessing, and we’ve had a lot of fun with one another on-line since. 

Then, a job I applied for in a mid-size accounting firm, one that pays very well, began to gain traction immediately after my employment insurance fiasco.  I found this position through a placement agency.  My resume was put in front of them over a month ago, but I hadn’t heard anything. I thought for sure it was a done deal.  Then, they called me in for an interview, the kind where you sit in a conference room and meet one person after another.  I prepared for two days, so my interviews went very well. I’m hoping to be called back for round two.

Leslie and I find ourselves in the uncomfortable transition between crisis and resolution. While it would be much more comfortable to know precisely where the money for the mortgage will come from, instead we must have faith that all will turn out.  What do they say?  All will be well in the end, and if it’s not well, then it’s not the end.

My Claim is Exhausted and So Am I

I last time I blogged here I wrote about worry.  I was worried (whining) about work and my unemployment benefits ending around December 31 of this year, and all sorts of other stuff.  Imagine my surprise when I found out this morning that my unemployment claim was exhausted, as in no money left … at all.

There was some weirdness going on with my most recent unemployment payment, and because I was worried about October, I had to talk to someone in the unemployment office.  I’d made a number of financial promises, and we had plans in anticipation of having a third check when usually there are only two.  October just turned out that way, giving us a chance to catch up with a few things. So, I spent the last two days dialing 1-800-300-5616 (dial 1 for English, dial 2 for Spanish, dial 3 to toss your cell phone in the garbage disposal and watch with glee as it’s torn to shreds).  I finally got through to someone this morning at about 8:50 a.m. 

After explaining my problem, I was advised that I had zero dollars left to my claim.  I even have something in writing from the EDD indicating I was good to go until the end of December, but no.  0 + 0 = 0 … you could drive a truck between the vague loopholes in communication from the EDD.  I’m a smart woman, and still I missed the difference between having an open claim and having a fully funded claim.  I was advised of this by a completely apathetic woman, and even as I began to tear up in frustration and feel a little hysterical (no act there), I thought why hadn’t anyone mentioned this?  I’d talked with someone about my problem two times previously with two separate people over the last couple of days and NO ONE bothered to mention “Hey, are you aware that you are down to your last $450?” 

My head exploded.  I mean, really.  It flew apart into a million pieces.  How would I pay the mortgage? Never mind all the other bills. Screw all that. How will we pay the mortgage was all I could think of.  Hearing all this from where she was in the living room, I could hear Leslie’s heartbeat start racing like a runaway train.  She had no chest pain, of course, but I knew the stress would be hard to bear.  How many times had we talked about how lucky we were that we had enough money to cover the mortgage even though I wasn't working?  A day ago, I thought my benefits would expire the end of December, and having a few irons in the fire, I was prepared to do so temp work if necessary.  Now, temp work is urgent.   My next thought was how do we tell Elizabeth? She’s already so good about all this, but now she has to worry about losing her home?  There is no family to call for help. It’s just the three of us and has been for years.  So, it’s up to us to make it work. She knows this.

After the initial shock, and after cleaning my exploded grey matter off the walls, I started writing, networking, to everyone I could think of who might have a tip on a job, and every temp agency I’ve ever done business with.  The opportunity at Redwood Shores ironically gained some traction today becoming a job I am uniquely qualified for. I have a phone interview in the morning. And I’ve got an appointment in the afternoon with a temp agency so I can get some income happening.  Then, we had to go to an eye doctor's appointment that took forever to get and Leslie really needed to take.  I waited for her in the lobby for over an hour, and it was the longest hour of my life.  You know how it feels when you need to be doing something, anything, and all you can do is sit?

When Elizabeth got home, we explained what happened, and she asked questions like “Do I have to worry about being homeless?” and “Do I have to be afraid?”  I explained the difference between sending in resumes over the internet for a permanent job and hearing nothing, versus getting temp work with an agency when you need it.  She understood I would get something soon. She teared up a little, but recovered quickly.  As I exclaimed about what a stressful day it was, she said, “But you’re not being mean.”  That sort of stopped me in my tracks.  She explained that when dealing with the stress of the last job, I was mean at home.  Her words really opened my eyes.  I realized how stressed out that place, my last place of permanent employment, had really made me; how difficult the enduring uncertainty and tension there, the nastiness of people’s behavior, had worn me down. It was so bad that I was angry and upset virtually all the time.  My fifteen year old opened my eyes to this in a way that hadn't occurred previously.  I told her I wouldn’t let that happen again. I'd had plenty of time to rest and bounce back from all that stress, and I told her I was sorry.  She answered, "It's okay, Nana. Can we study my French now?"  Kids.

They say it’ll be alright in the end, and if it’s not alright, it’s not the end.  Well, it’s about 10:30 p.m., and I feel like I’ve been whacked about the head hard with a reality stick.  And when the cosmic joker was done with me, he started whacking Leslie.  We were both feeling stunned, but we stuck together like glue.  Now we’re just tired.

I need to work. I don’t care what it is. If I’m capable of doing it and it’s enough to cover the bills, I’ll do it.  I have current secretarial skills, I’m a good manager, and I’m a good leader with a strong facilities background.  My resume is strong, and I have years of experience.

I’m sending out my need and desire into the ether like it’s a palpable thing. Right now it is.  I send it on Raven’s wings and dragon’s flight, and I know my intent will find its destination … and soon.

It as to.

Worry

Me looking thinner!

I have so much on my mind right now.  I’ve been out of work for almost two years, despite submitting resumes every week and lowering my salary requirements.  I’ve had no more than four calls, and two were from agencies.  The most current was a job I’m perfect for, but the company is giving priority to an internal candidate. My resume hasn’t been rejected, but it’s more than two weeks.  My unemployment insurance ends on December 31, and that’s a little less than four months away, so I’m worried. 

Christmas is coming, too, and when living paycheck to paycheck, it’s more a cause for stress.  Figuring out a way to give my daughter a Christmas occupies a lot of my head space, even though I know that things will turn out alright in the end.  And if it’s not alright, then it’s not the end.

These thoughts strike me as somewhat ironic. When I was working, I had no idea how hard it could be for families out of work.  Well, I’ve learned.  Leslie and I have matured a lot over the last two years. We’ve really identified the line that exists between what we need and what we want, and we rarely cross it.  If we do, it’s for our daughter; and she’s such a team player that she asks for very little.

When I was working, I spent a lot of time pondering the difference between time and money, and realizing I seem to have one or the other. When I was working, I had very little time. Now that I’m not working, I’ve had lots, and I’ve used it wisely.  I’ve made lots of art. Done lots of blogging.  I’m working on and am half way through my first novel, and I’m having loads of fun with the Art Guild of Pacifica. There are a few shows coming up like the AGP Member’s Show (I want to make a new piece for that), and the big Galleria, which showcases open walls and a salon style show.  I really enjoy AGP.  And, of course, I had bariatric weight loss surgery in June.  I’ve lost more than 60 pounds already and am happy every day that I had it done.

At least we’ve always been able to pay the mortgage. I don’t want that to change.

I’ll end up registering with a couple of temp agencies and falling back on the secretarial skills my grandmother (rip) insisted I get coming out of high school.

Whatever it takes.

TAKING STOCK

I was born to unprepared parents whose greatest flaw was selfishness.  I was another child of the confused and self-absorbed “me” generation, and it was obvious to me even then they were more concerned with themselves than their children. I hold no ill will toward them but don’t cast pearls before swine either.  Despite their carelessness, I grew older with my self-esteem intact, and it saw me through a number of dangerous childhood traps.  These experiences left their mark, but my guardian angel was reliable.  My soul’s charter in this life did not call for rape or repeated physical abuse.  I was spared the absolute worst, and therefore a fear response is not etched indelibly in my psyche.  Rather, self-confidence was lacking, and in its place was sheer nerve, which was like spitting in the wind at times. What good is having the nerve to spit when the storm is on, if the saliva ends up blocking your vision?

Guilford Center © Leslie Faber in 2007

In my adulthood, I was “adopted” by an enlightened spiritual mother and given the gift of worthiness. This prompted self-confidence, which blossomed like a rose and manifested change quickly.  I was a vessel, and She turned me upside down.  Anger, fear and resentment were emptied from me, carrying the debris of outworn relationships with it. This was a difficult transition that lasted almost ten years, but it was poignant to my learning curve. Compassion, capability and courage rose up in its place to iron out the kinks in my life, always with a knack for pushing hot buttons.  As time went on, these buttons burned less and I learned to trust my intuition.

Now the world stands on the precipice of immense change. We live in incredible, spiritual and historic times.  I feel its winds blowing strongly. The gate is unlocked, and as I stand in the open doorway, I feel new, cathartic energy flowing in and the negative energy that rises to challenge it.  These leviathans battle on the horizon and misfortune is the global culture’s dish of the day.  When served in hearty portions, which happens frequently, this misfortune changes lives on all levels. We are prompted to embrace love or cleave desperately to fear. 

Six weeks ago, I was involuntarily separated from my job in the fall out of a financially motivated, confidence bashing, denigrating corporate merger debacle.  The year and a half process was an exercise in purging personal demons, the roots of which had grown deep into my professional worthiness. I was familiar with the purging process because it happened to me in my relationships previously, but I was nonetheless eager for it to be over.  Also. when you’re reorganized out of a job, they want you to believe it isn’t personal; but believe me, it’s completely personal.  When I was finally released, I was ready to go, and I was physically and emotionally stressed.  I was also frightened. 

The merger left me in doubt of my professional capabilities and unwilling to navigate corporate life any longer.  I wondered if it was because of my experience or in spite of it.  Obviously, the two were inexorably linked, but which came first?  Which was real? 

Preparing for Pacific Coast Dream Machines has directed my energies to something creative and constructive and begun to return my confidence.   Leslie and I overcome each small challenge working toward May 1, and I feel more and more like myself. Doing it together makes it sweeter. We’re investing personal finances when we should be storing nuts for a difficult economic winter, but my bones tell me the time is now. Now or never.

As I take stock of myself, I am relieved to rediscover one very significant personal fact:  I am almost fifty years old, and still, I will not succumb to fear. 

I discovered my grandmother, who’s been in a convalescent home for over 10 years, was recently put on hospice care. She’s 90 years old.  When we were in Connecticut three years ago, I was blessed with time to be with her, and it was difficult to leave, but I had to do what was best for my family. This highlights what haters out there don’t realize.  I do understand what family is, and in fact, I am fiercely devoted.  I am equally clear on people who pose as family members or friends but are uncaring, selfish, and manipulative in their rationalizations.  I have discernment, and these haters and I have spent enough time together in this life.

Thirty years ago, I was let go from my first job out of business school.  They gave me $360 in severance pay, and I used that money to print the first issue of a newsletter called “Feminine Connections”.  I was passionate about that newsletter.  Publishing “Feminine Connections” led me to a lesbian couple in San Leandro, one who wrote and the other did art. When I visited California to see them over the Fourth of July weekend in 1985, they introduced me to Leslie.

I didn’t succumb to fear when I moved out of my mother’s house at 16 because her husband hit me.  I didn’t let it hold me back at 21 when I moved from Connecticut to California the first time to be with Leslie.  I didn’t let it deter me when Leslie and I moved cross country.  And I won’t let it stop me when I’m belittled, insulted or threatened by haters.

I have a unique opportunity to pursue my creativity before economic demands assume their position once again.

I embrace this opportunity.

I am unafraid.

And  I can’t wait to see where it leads me.

Adventures in Unemployment

Hey, what are YOU doing here??!?

I saw the most amazing thing today.  Leslie and I were driving down El Camino in South City near Kaiser, and way up on top of one of the street lights sat a big raven.  It was a common raven, you know, which looks like a crow, but is at least five times bigger.  And buzzing around it like a very angry buzzing bee was a humming bird!  It was so amazing! We could only see the duo because they were set against the blue sky’s background.  That little hummer was angry with the big raven, and was diving and hovering around it, trying to drive it off.  It was very brave. And the raven sat there ignoring it.  There were trees close by, so I thought maybe the little hummer had a nest nearby. At the very least, it considered that area its turf and didn’t want the raven around.  Fascinating.

That was the first thing.

We did a bunch of errands, a whole lot, and got a lot done gearing up for our street fair on May 1.

The last thing I did was attend a mandatory workshop at the EDD, which is the California State’s unemployment training “thing”; I’m not sure what it is really, but this class was mandatory to getting my unemployment check, so I had to be there.  Stuck.  It turned out to be a two hour session with a pedantic instructor who was determined we see her superiority.  And what was covered was rudimentary.  Not sophisticated, but for people who aren’t hip to the computer and how to write a resume, I suppose it was pretty handy.  The lady in charge, I’ll call her Becky,  said that the week previous she had a group of 35 people from Sutter Health, doctors, nurses, everybody.  No one is exempt from job loss these days.
 

The folks in my group were such a cross section of the workforce, it was a trip! There was a waiter, software engineers, project managers, and a marketing manager. One lady used to be a recruiter for Planned Parenthood in the East Bay but they’ve closed all those down due to lack of funding.  The one that really stuck out was a woman who was previously the Vice President of Philanthropy for the San Francisco Zoo. She was in charge of fund raising, and enrollment is down so they let her go.  With a few exceptions, everyone there seemed really bummed out, and while I’m sure economics has a lot to do with it, the bashing each person took by their experience was right on their shirt sleeve, so apparent.  I could totally relate.

I thought “Wow, so many people in the country are in this state and no wonder people are in such a bad mood all the time!”  In fact, completely randomly and right in the midst of the class, someone started banging on the door to the training room and when Becky tried to open the door to see what was going on, held it shut, which completely freaked her out.  She looked at me with scared eyes and said, “Oh my god what is going on?”  Turned out to be a guy trying to install a sign on the door, which accounted for all the banging, and he opened the door in front of everyone and was MAD that she was interrupting his work, and actually told her off!  I had to laugh; it was pretty random, very off the wall. 

As it turns out, this mandatory training class was in the same building as welfare.  I figure if someone got angry with unemployment and told them to shove it, they could go directly to the next room and get in line for government assistance.  Becky said that no one knows where the actual Unemployment offices are because they are kept confidential.  Apparently, a few years ago, one discontented unemployment recipient went crazy and massacred a bunch of Unemployment staff.  Since then, they’ve kept those offices under wraps. 

File this experience under “Adventures in Unemployment”.

All is well.

D❤

Liberated by a Legacy Firm Drone

This morning, I woke up thinking about the dungeon that was my previous job.  I worked with some terrific people, and while the thought of that place still irritates me immensely, and I’d much rather never have to think of it again, I wonder about them from time to time.

Coincidentally, a colleague and my former counterpart in Los Angeles called to check up on me earlier today.  She’s a nice, genuinely caring individual.  Like me, she did not get the job she applied for, but the company kept her on an additional six months to do real estate work her replacement isn’t qualified to do.  Her replacement, by the way, is a secretary from the other side of the merger, and she has no operations experience.    My previous counterpart informed me that my replacement is an employee from the other side of the company, too.  So, I looked up this successful candidate on LinkedIn, and it seems she has no operations experience either.

Our perky colleague and former counterpart in Houston, a real firecracker, is still being strung along.  She began the interview process just after Christmas, about the time I did, and was informed a few weeks ago the race is on between her and one external candidate.  A man.  That external candidate was in the office she manages interviewing yesterday with a high level executive.   My perky colleague, however, was not invited to do the same.  This high level interview happened in her office, behind a closed door she could see from her desk.  It lasted about 45 minutes.  When I spoke with her today, it sounded as though she were one Tinky Winky band-aid away from flying into a billion tiny pieces.

Leslie and I were sitting in front of Peet’s coffee when I got off the phone.  I was drinking the usual afternoon latte, a habit I haven’t tried to break yet, as I considered what I’d been told.  The general consensus might be that across what was “our” geography, the position my counterparts and I applied for and didn’t get has been filled with outrageously unqualified candidates from the other side of the “merger of equals”.  In fact, the entire action looks perfectly premeditated. 

It took a moment for this new perspective to sink in.  At first I sat there, my head racing, feeling irritated and stressed out all over again.  To date, I’ve considered this a learning experience, which is what I tell myself when I’ve been intensely fucked and can’t find a hidden benefit.  Then the tears fell.  If they knew all along they would replace us with legacy firm drones, what was the point of all this?  Why tell me I’m a strong candidate only to shoot me down later?   Was it so we wouldn’t miss the pleasure of banging our heads against the confusing ambiguity they called change management or so we could enjoy being de-valued as our responsibilities were stripped slowly with little explanation?  Oh wait.  It was so we could fully imagine the terror of being unemployed in what is undoubtedly this century’s most dramatically publicized and fear inciting recession; thereby being scared shitless enough to do whatever they asked us to do and willingly overlook the strong possibility our efforts might be for absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, I realized this lets me off the hook.

Over the last three weeks, I’ve worked on living with the learning experience theory above, and wondered how long it would take my confidence to bounce back.  My outer Donna, the big girl, was aware of the set up and knew it was not to be taken personally; but inside … well, that was another story.  My inner Donna, the little girl, fretted and even obsessed over the certainty of what I did wrong.  The job was only a quarter of its previous responsibilities, and would be surrounded by rude and inconsiderate peers, but this seemed inconsequential.  What did I do that made me inadequate for this job?  Suddenly, that little, red head, freckle face Donna, the unconfident girl with buck teeth and a dorky pom-pom hat, was liberated from the burden of her self-imposed unworthiness by the knowledge that the firm hired people who weren’t even close to qualified, and probably had plans to dumb it down all along.

A company that treats support services with disdain and utter carelessness is a nightmare to work for in a post-merger environment.  The professional staffs who don’t meet their numbers won’t hang around long.  But because support services don’t generate revenue, those staff might as well wear targets and wait to be picked off, terminated due to cost savings.  As the new firm approaches its utopian state, this will increase with the integration of real estate locations and sophisticated self-service human resource, benefits, and finance systems.  Finally, the end result will be a largely automated and highly sophisticated internal services function that sits just one hop, skip, and a jump away from complete and total outsourcing.

If I were still working in the Shared Services dungeon, I'd start mustering up what dignity I have left; because if the process of elimination doesn't wear you down, the ferocious job market certainly will.

Good luck.

D❤

Adventures in Decompression

Mental Clutter on the Shelf

It’s been a bit over two weeks since my last day in the office.  I was laid off on February 4 and my journey with de-stressing began. 

I guess I was very tired because I’ve done a lot of napping.  I’ve enjoyed the luxury.  At the same time, my brain still thinks it’s going back to work in two days and has to get everything done by Monday morning.  So, I’ve got four lists going on simultaneously.  One is for home projects, one is for art website changes, one is for art business, and one is for generally creative ideas.   I’ve organized my creative space including some furniture assembly, re-organized Leslie’s patio at her direction, and re-decorated Elizabeth’s room. 

There is the usual stuff.  I’m paying the bills and partnering with Leslie on financial planning going forward.  I’ve updated my resume and comb the internet for jobs daily.  I’m planning Elizabeth’s summer, which will be busy, and I’m in the middle of a series of art works.  I write a blog post whenever I’m compelled.  Lately, that’s a lot.

I’ve been through the kitchen phase.  For two weeks, the kitchen was spotless before I went to bed.  That passed. I’m still in the laundry phase.  Every single piece of laundry is done, including the piles that build up when the bulk of it is sorted in the hallway.  I sense that phase will end soon.

The days go by quickly, and although I don’t have to be, I’m just as busy as I was when working.

I hope my brain figures out what’s going on before too long.  

On the Road to the Next Chapter

"On the Road" by Liz
This is the view to the Pacific Ocean from where we live.

I arrived at work one lovely San Francisco morning six months into my last job, and a company-wide voicemail message announced a merger and public offering.  What came next was a year and a half of merger angst and position dismantling, inclusive of workplace ambiguity, a viral and almost pathological disregard for common workplace respect, intense trepidation, and then interview interrogation.  By the time they laid me off a week ago, I was relieved.  I’ve been through a merger in the past, but the difficulty I experienced here was epic, making this the most difficult period in my career.

This week has been about de-stressing and decompression, an on-going process, I’m sure.   I had no idea I was so wound up.  I’ve slept a lot as my inner workings reassemble, and the strangest thing keeps happening.  I might be standing in the hallway when I have a random office memory.  My muscles tighten up and I get a sick feeling in both my head and heart.  This is what I felt like for a year, and why I was in so much physical pain all the time.  I had to repress these feelings to work.  Then, I remind myself it’s a thing of the past , the tightening and sickness subsides, and I feel relieved and surprised; giddy even.  This gets less intense each day.

The last time I went through a period of unemployment, we were in Connecticut.   I left a job in San Francisco after 19 years because my career had stalled.   We sold our house in South City just before the real estate industry tanked and moved across country.  We had fun for a while, furnishing the house and all that, until the novelty wore off.  When it was time to go back to work, I discovered the job market had followed the housing market into the toilet, as well.  Even the market in New York City was tight.  It was a half year before I found a crappy position that paid less than half what I was making in San Francisco and was boring as hell.  I predicted we would return to the Bay Area precisely one year later, and that we did.

My job right now is to unwind, get my head together, and find my balance.  As the present evolves, I gain greater objectivity.  Looking back, I have no regrets.  I’m pleased I had the strength to stand up for myself at work when it became necessary.  I imagine kowtowing or kissing ass might have increased my chances for continued employment, but I just don’t have it in me.   Thank goodness.  Instead, I’ve completed a life cycle; a turbulent one that has created personal and professional strength in me, and I’m preparing for the next chapter.

The difference between this and Connecticut is that I’m in the place I love.  The Bay Area is beautiful and action packed.  I’m reminded of this each time I see the Pacific Ocean in the panoramic vista just down the street.  Tomorrow will take care of itself, but in the meantime, I’m going to make the most out of every moment.

There is, however, one thing I can state with absolute certainty.

The next time I hear the word “merger”, I will, without a doubt, run screaming in the opposite direction.