The word “character” has been flitting around in my head the past few days. Let me start by stating that there is no platitude that will wipe away the scalding disappointment of a #1 ranked high school girls’ basketball team that loses the South Sectional Finals to a basket at the buzzer. The trite clichés like “you win some you lose some” or “guess this wasn’t their year” had to have come into being as a result of similar losses; as coaches and fans and parents groped for words designed to put positive spins on similar defeats. Witnessing our (fan) daughter’s distress, and the tears pouring down our (player) niece’s face, I grasped for any words more meaningful than those above, to help mitigate the agony of the moment. And while perhaps also a cliché, the concept that stuck with me and that I held on to while leaving the crowded gym, is that losses like these are character forming.
But what is character, after all? At our house, over the years, we added chair rails and molding and wooden valances to our aging ranch, all under the guise of adding “character.” A world traveler observing different cultures may perhaps be considered as on a mission to develop character. Volunteering for the homeless, or the sick, or the disadvantaged all enhance character. And a player, who holds her head erect, accepts disappointment gracefully, determined to move on with positive words and gestures, is clearly demonstrating character. Character is the sum of all the learned parts, the knowledge acquired through life’s depth and scope and pain and anguish. Character is when you look back ten years later and think, “Yea, it would have been great if we won that game, but I still made it here anyway.”
While I had all this in my head as we drove home from the game Friday night, I couldn’t say anything about it out loud. Because the thing about character is that you can only recognize it after you step back, when the distance of time and insight allow you to acknowledge it. What I remembered all too clearly Friday night, was my own, similar “character building” episode.
During my senior year in high school I had the potential to be ranked at a state level in springboard diving. To that end, I practiced endlessly, received extra coaching, and was hitting my peak just at the time the championships occurred. Having placed fairly well the year before, with demonstrated improvement in my diving there was a solid chance to exceed last year’s results. I daydreamed about success, visualized how the achievement would look on my college applications, of receiving write-ups in the town newspaper and the high school yearbook. For the entire fall sport season, chlorine emanated from my pores and every league competition brought us that much closer to the first championship meet, where I anticipated performing my best.
Except of course, I didn’t. Who knows whether it was nerves or lack of attention, or a focus on the wrong thing at the wrong moment, but after nailing my first dive of the competition I made such a serious mistake on the second that the judges were required to score it a zero. Perhaps I demonstrated a bit of character by getting up and scoring well on my third dive, even though I was already out of the competition, but to me at that moment, it meant nothing. Climbing out of the pool, I buried my face in my damp towel hoping that no one would notice the tears spilling from my eyes. It took months for me to reconcile myself to ending my high school diving career with that knife twisting letdown.
That’s why I knew that there was nothing we could say to our niece, or to our daughter that would alleviate the disappointment. They would both look at me like some middle-aged nutcase, if I told them that by some means that currently they can’t know, this loss is a gift. Of course they will never look back and say: Gee, I’m glad we didn’t win that game.” Nevertheless this setback will form at their core and will make them stronger, empathetic and more equipped to cope with future distresses in life.
Thankfully, the bonus that comes with years and experience is the ability to absorb these concepts more seamlessly. A loss may also be a win. That’s why, while plenty nervous, I already recognize positive aspects related to losing my job last month.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
The Week in Review (4)
Things I have learned:
Review the manual, dummy.
When it comes to self promotion, it takes guts to step forward. Apparently mine are on vacation.
Resisting the temptation of a raspberry filled chocolate cupcake and making a vegetable roll-up at home demonstrates moral (not to mention nutritional) fiber. Sigh.
Living in the present verses wishing your life away is a gratifying experience. Now, if only it could come with a paycheck.
The only redeeming aspect of a March snowstorm is how fast it melts.
Based on a 40 hour work week, and assuming an average of four weeks of time off annually, over the course of twenty-three years that converts to 2,649,600 minutes at the office. Another way of looking at it is 158,976,000 seconds. No wonder I was tired.
Review the manual, dummy.
When it comes to self promotion, it takes guts to step forward. Apparently mine are on vacation.
Resisting the temptation of a raspberry filled chocolate cupcake and making a vegetable roll-up at home demonstrates moral (not to mention nutritional) fiber. Sigh.
Living in the present verses wishing your life away is a gratifying experience. Now, if only it could come with a paycheck.
The only redeeming aspect of a March snowstorm is how fast it melts.
Based on a 40 hour work week, and assuming an average of four weeks of time off annually, over the course of twenty-three years that converts to 2,649,600 minutes at the office. Another way of looking at it is 158,976,000 seconds. No wonder I was tired.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Nine Thousand, Six Hundred Sixteen and Counting
The time space continuum gets disrupted when you’re not employed, but that’s not a bad thing. As a full time working mother my survival was based on sticking to an unwavering routine. When the routine did change as things always do, my stress-o-meter climbed regularly into the red zone. And let me be clear here, I only have one child. For you working-outside-of-the-home moms with two, three or more kids, I am in awe and you earn my total admiration every day.
Those of you who have been reading Middle Passages know that during the last month I have assigned myself a schedule, but here is a fun bit. For the most part, while I’m dedicated to the timetable, there is no requirement to stick to it. It is amazing to note how full these days have remained during this time at home, yet I wallow in the flexibility. A text message from my daughter at the last minute indicating that she needs to stay late at school doesn’t involve a boatload of Catholic guilt and three phone calls to arrange transportation. I simply go get her. A request from a friend at 9:30 (typically blog writing time) asking me to join her for a walk, receives a smiling affirmative. I’m available to help another friend with transportation related to a car issue, and to serve as a resource to my daughter’s friends requiring rides, rather than relying on their parents for a lift for her. Best of all, the work that I am accomplishing, the job search related assignments and writing these posts, occurs with zero clock-watching on my part. Yesterday, when my daughter got off the bus from school; I was so engrossed in what I was doing, that I looked at her astounded when she walked in the door.
2,649,600
Don’t get me wrong. There was a lot about my job I liked. But the figure above represents a ball-park estimate of the number of minutes that I wished away over the years, eying the end of the work day and yearning to be home with my family.
9,616 is the approximate number of minutes in the last four-plus weeks that I haven’t. To my way of thinking, each of those 9616 minutes carries approximately 100 times the weight of every moment above. I may not have caught up all the way yet, but the clock is still ticking and I’m getting there fast.
Those of you who have been reading Middle Passages know that during the last month I have assigned myself a schedule, but here is a fun bit. For the most part, while I’m dedicated to the timetable, there is no requirement to stick to it. It is amazing to note how full these days have remained during this time at home, yet I wallow in the flexibility. A text message from my daughter at the last minute indicating that she needs to stay late at school doesn’t involve a boatload of Catholic guilt and three phone calls to arrange transportation. I simply go get her. A request from a friend at 9:30 (typically blog writing time) asking me to join her for a walk, receives a smiling affirmative. I’m available to help another friend with transportation related to a car issue, and to serve as a resource to my daughter’s friends requiring rides, rather than relying on their parents for a lift for her. Best of all, the work that I am accomplishing, the job search related assignments and writing these posts, occurs with zero clock-watching on my part. Yesterday, when my daughter got off the bus from school; I was so engrossed in what I was doing, that I looked at her astounded when she walked in the door.
2,649,600
Don’t get me wrong. There was a lot about my job I liked. But the figure above represents a ball-park estimate of the number of minutes that I wished away over the years, eying the end of the work day and yearning to be home with my family.
9,616 is the approximate number of minutes in the last four-plus weeks that I haven’t. To my way of thinking, each of those 9616 minutes carries approximately 100 times the weight of every moment above. I may not have caught up all the way yet, but the clock is still ticking and I’m getting there fast.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
A Cupcake on the Side
Sometimes you need a change of scenery. The snow this week seems to have affected everyone and I’m not exempt. Even though I challenge myself not to allow the frigid temperatures to stop me, the boot shod feet are dragging. My job, pertaining to finding a job, is to develop “BAR” statements (Background, Activities, and Results) so that I can build a functional resume (the “curriculum vitae” of choice for we career changers).
This morning though, while sitting in my cold house at the computer cubby, inspiration iced up too. So I went out to breakfast (or perhaps on a reconnaissance mission) to my dream coffee/sandwich shop that may or may not be for sale (a story for a different day).
When I arrived, there were only three patrons, regulars, dishing about current events with the owners. Even with my Boston Globe propped by my plate, it was impossible not to listen to their comments. (Did I mention that the dream may be over-the-top, but the place itself is tiny?)
While I polished off my second breakfast of the day (the first was oatmeal with raisins at 7:00), their conversation went something like this:
Owner 1: "What are you all up to today?"
Patron 1 (with a wink): "We are all looking for jobs. We hear there is a stimulus package that is going to provide them to us."
Owner 2: "I hear that most people only have enough cash reserves to cover one month of unemployment."
Patron 2: "I think I should open a diner."
In my head, utilizing spellbinding and witty repartee of course, I tossed in the following responses to their dialogue:
“Actually, I really am seeking a new career (I'd insert my personal marketing statement here). Would you have a few minutes to speak to me?”
“Even if you have cash reserves, unemployment is unnerving. Would you consider offering me a job cooking in your kitchen?”
“If you do open that diner, I’m a hard worker, a darn good cook and I make a mean London Broil. Would you consider offering me a job cooking in your kitchen?”
Putting my pipe dreams aside, I contemplated interjecting myself into their conversation for real—let’s face it; I could provide some pretty relevant, timely and personal commentary. This clearly presented an opportunity to make connections. Talk about never knowing where your next networking contact may arise—two eggs over easy with an employment discussion on the side—sounds delicious.
Well, my breakfast was flavorful and God knows I’ve spent a huge portion of my life speaking to strangers for a living. But as I mopped up the crumbs on my plate, the skills I took for granted for the last twenty years disappeared as fast as my breakfast. The thought of selling myself verses being sold to was the unsavory entree at my table. After dawdling over my second cup of coffee and depositing a large tip, I moved on.
I’m at the library now. The warmth of the Sherwood green walls and the sun streaming through the palladium windows have been conducive to several BAR statements as well as this blog entry; and the clock just struck lunchtime. At my little dream restaurant, they are selling homemade chocolate, raspberry filled cupcakes, frosted with butter cream. Just my luck--on top of everything else, unemployment is going to be fattening.
This morning though, while sitting in my cold house at the computer cubby, inspiration iced up too. So I went out to breakfast (or perhaps on a reconnaissance mission) to my dream coffee/sandwich shop that may or may not be for sale (a story for a different day).
When I arrived, there were only three patrons, regulars, dishing about current events with the owners. Even with my Boston Globe propped by my plate, it was impossible not to listen to their comments. (Did I mention that the dream may be over-the-top, but the place itself is tiny?)
While I polished off my second breakfast of the day (the first was oatmeal with raisins at 7:00), their conversation went something like this:
Owner 1: "What are you all up to today?"
Patron 1 (with a wink): "We are all looking for jobs. We hear there is a stimulus package that is going to provide them to us."
Owner 2: "I hear that most people only have enough cash reserves to cover one month of unemployment."
Patron 2: "I think I should open a diner."
In my head, utilizing spellbinding and witty repartee of course, I tossed in the following responses to their dialogue:
“Actually, I really am seeking a new career (I'd insert my personal marketing statement here). Would you have a few minutes to speak to me?”
“Even if you have cash reserves, unemployment is unnerving. Would you consider offering me a job cooking in your kitchen?”
“If you do open that diner, I’m a hard worker, a darn good cook and I make a mean London Broil. Would you consider offering me a job cooking in your kitchen?”
Putting my pipe dreams aside, I contemplated interjecting myself into their conversation for real—let’s face it; I could provide some pretty relevant, timely and personal commentary. This clearly presented an opportunity to make connections. Talk about never knowing where your next networking contact may arise—two eggs over easy with an employment discussion on the side—sounds delicious.
Well, my breakfast was flavorful and God knows I’ve spent a huge portion of my life speaking to strangers for a living. But as I mopped up the crumbs on my plate, the skills I took for granted for the last twenty years disappeared as fast as my breakfast. The thought of selling myself verses being sold to was the unsavory entree at my table. After dawdling over my second cup of coffee and depositing a large tip, I moved on.
I’m at the library now. The warmth of the Sherwood green walls and the sun streaming through the palladium windows have been conducive to several BAR statements as well as this blog entry; and the clock just struck lunchtime. At my little dream restaurant, they are selling homemade chocolate, raspberry filled cupcakes, frosted with butter cream. Just my luck--on top of everything else, unemployment is going to be fattening.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Getting Back in Gear
While waiting in line for coffee with my recruiter friend yesterday, a voice behind me called out: “Look who’s here.” I turned to find an associate from my former employer, who worked under the same leadership “umbrella.” Upon registering her face, my immediate reaction was to give her a big hug. Seeing her was a surprise, and even better, a pleasure. We exchanged a few comments, and off she went to a work meeting after which I sat down with my friend, silently cataloging that in our brief chat, I had accomplished something huge. It was the first time that I have bumped into someone from work wherein there was no sadness, little regret, and most of all, no big lump in my throat. The dominant emotion was simply pleasure at seeing someone I know and like.
The story, however, gets better. Yesterday morning, we were all still cleaning out from the snow storm the day before. Our Jeep, thirteen years old by choice, is a manual four wheel drive vehicle, and had been left in that gear while in the garage. As I had backed out of our ice crusted driveway and down the street earlier that day, a metal on metal grinding emanated from the car. I pulled over, looked at the 4WD crank and realized that the car was in “off road driving mode” and not “snowy conditions on the road mode.” Everyone knows that you are not supposed to drive your car in 4WD-L on paved roads, don’t they? The problem was that since we’ve never been off-roading in our car; I hadn’t a clue how to get it into the correct gear, and for crying out loud, it was 6:20 a.m. and we were on our way to my daughter’s physical therapy appointment. If we were late to that she’d be late to school. On testing the forward motion, the groaning stopped, so we made our way the half mile to the appointment, at a sustained speed of about 25 MPH in a 40 MPH zone.
After her exercises, we limped to school and then I continued home. There, I searched for my recruiter friend’s cell phone to reschedule our appointment but of course, didn’t have it. Aside from the fact that I respect and admire her and sought her advice, I also didn’t fancy leaving her hanging in a coffee shop with no word from me. So, a half hour before our meeting, I got back in the car, convinced that while driving it I’d figure out how to get it into the proper gear. No luck. Apologizing out loud to the cars stacked up behind me for the entire trip, I crawled the five miles to where we were meeting, certain that after coffee, a visit from AAA would be on the schedule. When I walked into the restaurant, my heart was pounding, my hands were shaking, and caffeine wasn’t necessary for my morning adrenalin rush. That’s when my erstwhile peer saw me.
Fast forward to later that afternoon. Car issue resolved to some degree (read the manual dummy and give thanks to coaching from experienced friend) I received an email from the coordinator in my old department. Word had traveled about my chance meeting in the coffee shop that morning and the feedback was that I apparently looked “wonderful and relaxed.”
It’s all a matter of perspective I suppose. But my chuckle upon reading that email may be well worth the repair costs anticipated on the Jeep.
The story, however, gets better. Yesterday morning, we were all still cleaning out from the snow storm the day before. Our Jeep, thirteen years old by choice, is a manual four wheel drive vehicle, and had been left in that gear while in the garage. As I had backed out of our ice crusted driveway and down the street earlier that day, a metal on metal grinding emanated from the car. I pulled over, looked at the 4WD crank and realized that the car was in “off road driving mode” and not “snowy conditions on the road mode.” Everyone knows that you are not supposed to drive your car in 4WD-L on paved roads, don’t they? The problem was that since we’ve never been off-roading in our car; I hadn’t a clue how to get it into the correct gear, and for crying out loud, it was 6:20 a.m. and we were on our way to my daughter’s physical therapy appointment. If we were late to that she’d be late to school. On testing the forward motion, the groaning stopped, so we made our way the half mile to the appointment, at a sustained speed of about 25 MPH in a 40 MPH zone.
After her exercises, we limped to school and then I continued home. There, I searched for my recruiter friend’s cell phone to reschedule our appointment but of course, didn’t have it. Aside from the fact that I respect and admire her and sought her advice, I also didn’t fancy leaving her hanging in a coffee shop with no word from me. So, a half hour before our meeting, I got back in the car, convinced that while driving it I’d figure out how to get it into the proper gear. No luck. Apologizing out loud to the cars stacked up behind me for the entire trip, I crawled the five miles to where we were meeting, certain that after coffee, a visit from AAA would be on the schedule. When I walked into the restaurant, my heart was pounding, my hands were shaking, and caffeine wasn’t necessary for my morning adrenalin rush. That’s when my erstwhile peer saw me.
Fast forward to later that afternoon. Car issue resolved to some degree (read the manual dummy and give thanks to coaching from experienced friend) I received an email from the coordinator in my old department. Word had traveled about my chance meeting in the coffee shop that morning and the feedback was that I apparently looked “wonderful and relaxed.”
It’s all a matter of perspective I suppose. But my chuckle upon reading that email may be well worth the repair costs anticipated on the Jeep.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
The Devil in Me
You can’t hear me, but I am saying this ten times fast. “I will not pick up my book. I will not pick up my book….”
On the agenda today:
Physical therapy before school for my daughter’s healing knee injury, coffee with a friend who works for a human resources recruitment firm, a quick buzz to the grocery store for an ingredient that will transform leftovers into a sumptuous dinner, a walk (although after eight inches of new snow and temperatures hovering around 12 degrees, I’m waffling on this one), working on my functional resume, and analyzing my contact list to determine my networking resources.
Jeepers, all I’ve ever wanted in life is time to do the things I love and now, being out of work, it seems like that dream should be realized. But you know the old saying, finding (or in my case, preparing to find) employment is a full time job, so in spite of my whining, the weeks fill up rather quickly.
Today though, the book taunts me: “Read me, read me, the rest can wait.” This is the first time in my month of "unassigned time," that I have contemplated wavering from my new “routine” to pursue something more frivolous. Doing so would involve dancing around a dangerous trap though; one I don’t plan to fall into.
Some mornings I want nothing more than to pull my covers over my head when the alarm goes off, although, come to think of it, those feelings didn’t evolve with unemployment. What is different though is that now, I could, um, you know, actually stay in bed all day. So when that temptation hovers like a nasty helicopter at 5:45 each morning, I force myself up and into the shower, starting my “work” day as soon as my daughter goes to school. Self motivation is probably one of the most important parts of moving on in a career.
Yesterday was particularly hard, due to the late season snowstorm that cancelled school and delayed work for my husband. Shouldn’t I too, get some time off for good behavior? Well, no I guess not, because anxiety pertaining to the future doesn’t take a vacation day. So, while the winds blew and snow pounded the windows, I reviewed LinkedIn and Indeed.com, talked to my outplacement counselor, then started making his suggested edits to my employment biography. Meanwhile, after a disaster involving a buried newspaper and the snow blower, (no rest for him either) my husband left for work three hours late. My daughter, lucky girl, did stay in bed with her covers over her face.
Although I was up and moving early, there was a bonus to yesterday. After postponing the cat’s checkup with the vet, there was no requirement to get out in the storm—no work to stomp into stressed and frustrated as a result of this additional winter onslaught. But climbing back into bed, no, that wasn’t an option. When you face the unpredictability of how long unemployment could last, the old crystal ball theory surfaces again. Anyone I speak to who has been unexpectedly unemployed, says that if they could have seen into their future that a job would be forthcoming, they would have had a lot more fun while searching. I’m in the same predicament. At least though, I have this blog, and yes folks for me, this is fun. The book however, remains on the coffee table.
I don’t care what anyone says though. At 4:00, I’m opening it.
On the agenda today:
Physical therapy before school for my daughter’s healing knee injury, coffee with a friend who works for a human resources recruitment firm, a quick buzz to the grocery store for an ingredient that will transform leftovers into a sumptuous dinner, a walk (although after eight inches of new snow and temperatures hovering around 12 degrees, I’m waffling on this one), working on my functional resume, and analyzing my contact list to determine my networking resources.
Jeepers, all I’ve ever wanted in life is time to do the things I love and now, being out of work, it seems like that dream should be realized. But you know the old saying, finding (or in my case, preparing to find) employment is a full time job, so in spite of my whining, the weeks fill up rather quickly.
Today though, the book taunts me: “Read me, read me, the rest can wait.” This is the first time in my month of "unassigned time," that I have contemplated wavering from my new “routine” to pursue something more frivolous. Doing so would involve dancing around a dangerous trap though; one I don’t plan to fall into.
Some mornings I want nothing more than to pull my covers over my head when the alarm goes off, although, come to think of it, those feelings didn’t evolve with unemployment. What is different though is that now, I could, um, you know, actually stay in bed all day. So when that temptation hovers like a nasty helicopter at 5:45 each morning, I force myself up and into the shower, starting my “work” day as soon as my daughter goes to school. Self motivation is probably one of the most important parts of moving on in a career.
Yesterday was particularly hard, due to the late season snowstorm that cancelled school and delayed work for my husband. Shouldn’t I too, get some time off for good behavior? Well, no I guess not, because anxiety pertaining to the future doesn’t take a vacation day. So, while the winds blew and snow pounded the windows, I reviewed LinkedIn and Indeed.com, talked to my outplacement counselor, then started making his suggested edits to my employment biography. Meanwhile, after a disaster involving a buried newspaper and the snow blower, (no rest for him either) my husband left for work three hours late. My daughter, lucky girl, did stay in bed with her covers over her face.
Although I was up and moving early, there was a bonus to yesterday. After postponing the cat’s checkup with the vet, there was no requirement to get out in the storm—no work to stomp into stressed and frustrated as a result of this additional winter onslaught. But climbing back into bed, no, that wasn’t an option. When you face the unpredictability of how long unemployment could last, the old crystal ball theory surfaces again. Anyone I speak to who has been unexpectedly unemployed, says that if they could have seen into their future that a job would be forthcoming, they would have had a lot more fun while searching. I’m in the same predicament. At least though, I have this blog, and yes folks for me, this is fun. The book however, remains on the coffee table.
I don’t care what anyone says though. At 4:00, I’m opening it.
Monday, March 2, 2009
In No Particular Order
The recession is everywhere in a “flavor of the month” manner that could force you down a rabbit hole to hide if you are not careful. Aside from reporting the “facts, M’am, and nothing but the facts,” there are newspaper and on-line features each day on all aspects of the economic crisis. Some are helpful, others exploitive, and then there are those that are purely opportunistic. To keep myself sane, I stick to the provocative items.
Among the more fascinating articles I’ve read recently, is a Boston Globe Magazine piece from yesterday called The Executioner’s Song by Kris Frieswick. According to Kris, it’s not only we affected employees that you need to worry about. Management associates who are required to communicate layoffs suffer also. “For some, living with the knowledge that they’ve disrupted and financially imperiled so many lives can result in long-lasting emotional damage. They may never find a way to move on, even after they’ve left their job or have been laid off themselves.” Ok, I’ll bite. Having lived through it on the other side, I agree that there is a packet of “survivor guilt” left behind when you have to lay someone off. And, I surely witnessed the distress of my former boss and the tears of my then current boss, who had the dubious honor of imparting the bad news to me together last month. Seven months earlier though, I had to give the same news to three of my own staff members. At that time, we were instructed by an outplacement firm that emotion was an indulgence in which we, the “executioners” were not eligible to partake. No matter how bad you feel sitting behind the desk after delivering the news, you remain sitting there. Your remorse comes with a paycheck, medical insurance, life insurance and continued contribution to your 401K. Sorry guys. I miss you all. But I hope you don’t mind if I keep my worry focused solidly on myself.
Then there is Ellen Goodman’s Op Ed piece from the Friday, February 20th Boston Globe. In her column titled Wall Street Bust a Hidden Blessing for Grads? she wonders if this recession may be an opportunity for Ivy Leaguers who, prior to this economic downturn were compelled by a “juggernaut” of recruiters, the promise of bright lights and big city, competition, prestige—[and…] money” to flock to Wall Street. She speculates whether, with the lack of employment opportunities in the financial sector, it may be “possible for students to follow their dreams and have ideals they pursue." Hmmm, I’m unemployed now. I know that for the younger set, she’s speaking more along the lines of altruism, but maybe I can pursue my dreams now too? The little sandwich shop that I have fantasized about running for the past 10 years is for sale. The reality for most people though is that whether they are selfless or not, dreams still require a paycheck, or at least enough collateral for a loan. Oops, silly me. Apparently banks aren’t too forthcoming with those these days.
Of course, in his February 24 speech, President Obama focused on the economy too. “You don’t need to hear another list of statistics to know that our economy is in crisis,” he said in his first minutes, “because you live it every day. It’s the worry you wake up with and the source of sleepless nights. It’s the job you thought you’d retire from but now have lost; the business you built your dreams upon that’s now hanging by a thread….”
I kid you not that early in the morning of the day I lost my job, I walked to the company cafeteria for a cup of coffee feeling dispirited about the work atmosphere, as I had for the previous several weeks. Contemplating the two years before my daughter goes to college and adding for inflation, I mentally calculated whether I could possibly retire from my role in seven more years. Who knew that in seven HOURS, I’d be jobless? In the words of our President: “The impact of this recession is real, and it is everywhere.” That’s the macro economic picture right from the President’s mouth. It’s just that I never expected to be a statistic, living his speech in such a micro economic kind of way.
Among the more fascinating articles I’ve read recently, is a Boston Globe Magazine piece from yesterday called The Executioner’s Song by Kris Frieswick. According to Kris, it’s not only we affected employees that you need to worry about. Management associates who are required to communicate layoffs suffer also. “For some, living with the knowledge that they’ve disrupted and financially imperiled so many lives can result in long-lasting emotional damage. They may never find a way to move on, even after they’ve left their job or have been laid off themselves.” Ok, I’ll bite. Having lived through it on the other side, I agree that there is a packet of “survivor guilt” left behind when you have to lay someone off. And, I surely witnessed the distress of my former boss and the tears of my then current boss, who had the dubious honor of imparting the bad news to me together last month. Seven months earlier though, I had to give the same news to three of my own staff members. At that time, we were instructed by an outplacement firm that emotion was an indulgence in which we, the “executioners” were not eligible to partake. No matter how bad you feel sitting behind the desk after delivering the news, you remain sitting there. Your remorse comes with a paycheck, medical insurance, life insurance and continued contribution to your 401K. Sorry guys. I miss you all. But I hope you don’t mind if I keep my worry focused solidly on myself.
Then there is Ellen Goodman’s Op Ed piece from the Friday, February 20th Boston Globe. In her column titled Wall Street Bust a Hidden Blessing for Grads? she wonders if this recession may be an opportunity for Ivy Leaguers who, prior to this economic downturn were compelled by a “juggernaut” of recruiters, the promise of bright lights and big city, competition, prestige—[and…] money” to flock to Wall Street. She speculates whether, with the lack of employment opportunities in the financial sector, it may be “possible for students to follow their dreams and have ideals they pursue." Hmmm, I’m unemployed now. I know that for the younger set, she’s speaking more along the lines of altruism, but maybe I can pursue my dreams now too? The little sandwich shop that I have fantasized about running for the past 10 years is for sale. The reality for most people though is that whether they are selfless or not, dreams still require a paycheck, or at least enough collateral for a loan. Oops, silly me. Apparently banks aren’t too forthcoming with those these days.
Of course, in his February 24 speech, President Obama focused on the economy too. “You don’t need to hear another list of statistics to know that our economy is in crisis,” he said in his first minutes, “because you live it every day. It’s the worry you wake up with and the source of sleepless nights. It’s the job you thought you’d retire from but now have lost; the business you built your dreams upon that’s now hanging by a thread….”
I kid you not that early in the morning of the day I lost my job, I walked to the company cafeteria for a cup of coffee feeling dispirited about the work atmosphere, as I had for the previous several weeks. Contemplating the two years before my daughter goes to college and adding for inflation, I mentally calculated whether I could possibly retire from my role in seven more years. Who knew that in seven HOURS, I’d be jobless? In the words of our President: “The impact of this recession is real, and it is everywhere.” That’s the macro economic picture right from the President’s mouth. It’s just that I never expected to be a statistic, living his speech in such a micro economic kind of way.
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