Gone fishin'

Yesterday, I placed a call to my friendly neighborhood unemployment office to change from having federal taxes withheld from my payments, to not having them withheld, since it turns out that part of the "stimulus package" is to allow $2400 as untaxed income. I was on hold for 20 minutes, which is really not that bad, if you ask me. In the state with the highest unemployment rate in the country, I wouldn't have been surprised if the wait had been twice that long.

What did surprise me was some of the monotonous, taped drivel someone on hold has to listen to for all that time. By all means, encourage people to hang up and go online instead; remind people that after filing, it may take 6 weeks to get a response; encourage people to call some other number for such-and-such. But suggest that people "go fishin'"? Really?

Yes, one of the taped messages is provided by the state's organization for leisure activities, and that's fine. But the voice is "old-timey," like the voice used for Country Time Lemonade (which is basically poison, by the way--but perhaps I'll save that for another posting), recalling a past in which local merchants would put a sign on the door on perfect summer afternoons that said "Gone Fishin'." Uh huh.

Those of us on hold for 20 minutes, waiting to speak to someone about unemployment benefits, don't really need to hear about vacation opportunities in the area. I'm not saying we should all be working day and night to find a new job, exhausting ourselves and wallowing in despair (though I'm sure there are plenty doing that, too). I'm just wondering who the makers of the message think their audience is at that point.

I'm not even pretending to be one of the worst-off, because I absolutely am not. In fact, I'm flat-out amazed at how much money I'm going to end up getting, but I am not a single parent, nor am I the only wage-earner for my family. For me, it doesn't mean selling my house or giving my pets back to an animal shelter, or trying to find a buyer for my car. It doesn't mean living on tuna fish and macaroni and cheese. It doesnt even mean I have to sell my engagement ring or take my kids out of private school, which is the only school they've ever known.

But I'm not exactly planning vacations, either. I'm trying to work out a balance of applying for new work, spending time with my family, taking care of household chores, and figuring out exactly what I want to do with my life so maybe my next job will be longer-lasting and even more fulfilling.

Besides, I am morally opposed to fishing. Even if you throw the fish back in, it's terrifying and painful for the poor thing. So, when we are more solidly back on our feet and planning our next in-state vacation, the sign on our door will read "Gone...somewhere."

Tried and testes

Almost 20 years ago, when my husband and I were on our honeymoon in Portugal, we found a magazine printed in English, but put out by Portuguese speakers. Our favorite typo was when something that was being praised (a restaurant? a local sight?) was described as being "tried and testes."

In the last several hours, I have entertained myself by taking several career "testes." I don't know what I was expecting or hoping. I guess I had this fantasy that something would reveal itself to be a career I had never considered, but which would be identified as being just the thing for me. Maybe it would turn out that I belonged in Cirque de Soleil (which, given my lack of coordination and fear of being on a stage, would be quite a surprise, indeed) or doing voice over work for children's television. Or maybe my results would indicate a predilection for working for Homeland Security or being a plumber.

But no.

Except for one somewhat bizarre set of results that suggested dental hygienics (I am, actually, deathly afraid of dentists) along with rabbi, chaplain, minister or preacher (right up there with my fear of dentists is my distrust of organized religion), it turns out I've been looking for jobs in all the right places: working with kids, being a teacher, being a social worker/counselor/therapist, being a writer or editor. Nothing particularly glamorous or sexy or death-defying or likely to be turned into a hit TV series. (I remember, years ago, some network attempted to make a TV show about a social worker--maybe with Mary Stuart Masterson?-- and it sucked, just out-and-out sucked. I was so pissed.)

It's okay, actually. I'm not all that surprised. I thought maybe, now that I'm middle-aged and have kids, that it would turn out there's some secret part of me, just waiting to jump out, to be set free. But, for now, anyway, it's just the same old me.

Showered and dressed and nowhere to go

Today, the day immediately following my filing for unemployment, I not only got dressed, I also showered. That's more than I would have done on a normal, employed Sunday, so I'm feeling pretty proud.

I also sent my name and identifying characteristics to two different volunteer opportunities, one of which is a food bank-type place, the other a hospital. It was a little disheartening to check off that I am available any day of the week, any time of day. To preserve a shred of self-pride, I didn't check Saturday and Sunday nights: I'm living in hope that there will be times that my husband and I might actually have plans some Saturday nights; and Sunday nights in our household are just plain hell, and while I would love to use my volunteer work as an excuse to escape our whiny, exhausted, homework-laden children, to say nothing of all the forms that always need to be signed for upcoming field trips, blah blah blah, I adore my husband too much to leave him to fend for himself while I go off to load canned foods into boxes.

Last night, I read myself to sleep with a truly amazing book: The Nonprofit Career Guide: How to Land a Job that Makes a Difference. In fact, I didn't read myself to sleep with it, I kept myself keyed up, motivated, and inspired by it. I checked it out of the library, but I'm going to have to buy it because there are many things I want to highlight, and there are portions I know I will return to again and again.

Most of my adult professional life has been in the nonprofit sector, so it's not like this is an all-new concept. I am a knee-jerk liberal, born and bred. My children, who are 8 and 10, are more anti-W than I am and laugh derisively every time Caribou Barbie opens her mouth.

I have loved my jobs, every one of them. I have worked with children in public schools and private schools. I have had the honor and privilege of learning from them, as well as from others who work with them. It's not like I have spent my life making money by trying to convince people to buy cars they don't need or to turn a blind eye to investments that actually hurt other human beings.

But I think there might be even more out there for me. I might well have happily, successfully lived out the rest of my working years at the school from which I have been laid off. It's a wonderful school, a school that does so many more things right than any other school I have seen. But now I am presented with an opportunity to try something different, maybe to make a difference in a different way, through a different venue.

I'm showered and dressed--time for a drink.

Unemployment virgin

Today I filed for unemployment because I am unemployed. Between jobs. Out of work. On the dole. Career-challenged. I filed online, and it took about 30 or 40 minutes. Mostly stress-free, with pretty clear explanations. I have to post my resume in order to qualify and prove that I'm looking for work, but that seems a small favor to ask in return for having money deposited into my checking account. It won't be a lot of money, mind you--I worked part-time at a private school where my annual salary was less than the cost of tuition for one child for one year. But still, I appreciate the efforts the state is making on my behalf.

The facts are these: I am 44, have been married for 19 years, have two kids, a bachelor's degree in English and a master's degree in social work. Since the age of 14, the only times I have been unemployed were when I wanted to be unemployed, not because I was laid off. But the private school where I worked is experiencing a decline in enrollment, and can't afford my salary, such as it was. I have already grieved the loss of my job (not that that's a linear experience--grief might well rear its ugly head again at any time), so am trying to move on, trying to keep fear at bay, trying to keep an open mind about options without rushing into anything just for the sake of having a job. I am lucky; this is a luxury. People around me are losing their jobs, their homes, their well-being. I am in Michigan, the state with the highest rate of unemployment in the country, but we still have our house, my husband is employed, and my children are healthy. (I am knocking on wood as I write this, by the way, just in case superstititions have any basis in fact...)

I will attempt, in good faith, to keep whining to a minimum, because at an intellectual level, I am well aware of how lucky I am. On the other hand, I am also aware of how judgmental, opinionated and just plain bitchy I am. I will have resentment that there are people who clearly aren't as deserving as I am, and I will have bitterness that my kids' friends' mothers all have hired help and go on exotic vacations, but I will try to remind myself, just as I tell my sons when they ask if we are rich, that we are, indeed, rich, because that is what I call it when we have everything we truly need, and a lot of things we really want.

My goal for the coming week: to get dressed 5 out of the next 7 days. (Hey, it's important to experience success early on in the process--and believe me, this will take effort on my part.)