Every day feels like Saturday, y’all.
I feel like I’m 4. Or 94. I miss appointments. Forget which day the pool is closed. I could watch Price Is Right every day. (Not Saturday or Sunday, but I won’t know that until I try and tune it in and find Danger Rangers or This Week With George Stephanopoulos on the air instead.)
I’m not losing it, friends. I’m just, unemployed.
It’s given me time to work on my disc golf game (I shot 5-under at Mint Hill!). Play and run with the kids (they kick my butt, so I take them to a figure-8 track nearby so that the laps sort of meld into one another!).
Take a nap (such a good one that I woke up with a sore throat).
But really, being unemployed is a lot of hard work. It’s not all about daytime TV, recreation, and leisure. It’s about waiting in line at Division of Social Services. Filling out forms. Staying on hold (without great music to listen to.)
It’s about time missing with the family because you spend hours scouring the Internet for jobs.
How to stay hungry, but also not go hungry
There’s no overtime pay when you’re unemployed. Or holiday pay.
To craft the perfect cover letter that’ll your love of their company. You swallow your pride and wait your turn at the food pantry. This time when the kids say “dad, there’s nothing to eat!” it’s not because we’re out of pop tarts and root beer, but because there’s really nothing to eat.
The key to navigating this work interruption: Worry enough that you stay hungry enough to hit the job search with enthusiasm and hope, and also recognizing the opportunity to spend some time outside and getting away from it all to keep yourself optimistic.
You can hit the job search with some enthusiasm and hope.
The toughest part – oh, aside from going broke, false-hope interviews and a right-lean stance politically in a clearly Democrat situation – was when I had to tell the kids. Elise and Marie immediately thought of my previous employer, Muzak.
You have friends there, dad.
They were nice to you there, dad. You could have a messy desk there and listen to music all day there, dad. True, true, true and true, girls. Grace had few words of wisdom, but a pretty awesome gesture.
She picked out a plush toy – a Shrek baby – plopped down on the floor next to me in her room, and gave it to me.
“Here daddy,” she said. “Take this on your interviews, for good luck.” No one since the time of Jesus has not gotten the job they’ve applied for when accompanied by a Shrek baby. I definitely don’t want to be the first.