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Based on my experience, I have decided there are four emotional stages of unemployment.
June 1st marked six months of being unemployed. In that time, I’ve applied to countless jobs. I’ve received a handful of rejection letters, had two interviews that went nowhere and heard nothing from the rest. In short, it’s frustrating.
If you go back through my winter achieves, you can probably tell I was depressed. Some days it was hard to get off the couch and when I did, it was usually to snap at Michael over something stupid, then cry. He was so good to me during that time period, remaining understanding and knowing that all I needed him to do was be there.
Then there was a shift. I began to think, “screw you” to the people not responding to me, got off the couch and started to get busy. Eventually that turned into full blown acceptance. I don’t have a job. It is what it is.
It’s no secret that I want to start trying to have children soon. Of course, having or not having a job is a factor in this. Do I find a job now, then leave in x-amount of months to raise a baby? Do I continue to try and find freelance and online jobs that allow me to work from home? (Not as easy to find as I had hoped.) Do I start working part time somewhere in the hopes of having flexible hours?
In three weeks my unemployment insurance runs out. According to the paperwork I’ve received, I MAY qualify for an extension. May. And because this state is AWESOME, they won’t tell me if I qualify until after my first round of money runs out. I’m left in the dark with a hope, but that’s about it.
If it runs out and I don’t qualify for an extension, I’m going to have to find something, probably in retail. I’m not looking down my nose at retail jobs, absolutely not. I just decided not to take one these past few months and use that time and weekly unemployment money to search for another full time job.
But it might be time to start looking.
To be honest, I wouldn’t mind starting a family and working part time. These six months have given me a lot (a LOT) of time to think and although some people might not agree with it, that drive to be a career woman is quickly fading. When I see my professional future, instead of demanding clients and busy Outlook calendars, I see a job, maybe administrative, where I can go in, do my job, and come home. Without taking the stress of the day home to me. And I see another job, that of a mother.
But in order to achieve this vision, I need a J-O-B. I just hope it doesn’t take me another six months to find one.
After a lovely lunch with a girl I haven’t seen in forever, I have a job interview secured for tomorrow.
It has absolutely nothing to do with public relations.
I am realistic — it would mean a pay cut, but could be rewarding in many other ways.
I am optimistic.
I am excited.
I have to figure out what to wear.
Updating a resume blows. I just thought I’d put it out there. Thinking back to all you’ve done in the past year and trying to make it into a concise and organized paragraph gives me a headache. Are resumes still supposed to only be one page? I’m doing my best to make it that way.
The job market looks pretty bleak…at least that’s the conclusion I’ve come to after a search this morning of monster.com. I think it’s going to be a long few months.
Last night I was watching the Hills and Whitney went on an “interview” for Diane von Furstenberg, and even though it was completely scripted and merely a formality — because hey, didn’t you know that all it takes to do PR for a major designer is to have experience styling models and appearing on a reality show? — I still felt uneasy watching her go through the interview process.
I hate interviewing. It’s probably one of the most nerve-wracking thing I can think of. And I blame my first boss for it. Well, not blame per say, but he made it too easy for me. My first interview was more like a conversation with an old friend so Mike, to you I shake my fist! I guess it’s not too surprising that he’s no longer my boss and instead he’s a great friend.
I think another problem is that I’ve had pretty good luck in this life of mine. I’ve never really not gotten anything I wanted when it comes to my career. And now I’m anticipating a lot of no’s, a lot of closed doors. I’m also shaking my fist at this economy and at the state I live in for having the highest unemployment rate in the country right now.
I’ve been reading a book where three of the main characters are pregnant. Last night I dreamt I was too and in the dream I thought how much easier it would be to just be preggers and let the hubby go off to work each day. Clearly, my dream world did not include a mortgage or a savings account or any of the other factors that mean I still have to work…at least for now.
My plan is to dedicate one to two hours a day to the job search. It needs to be a priority, but I won’t let myself burn out on it. And I should probably stop staying up past midnight reading, or I’m going to start believing I’m living in a chic lit novel and will be severely disappointed each morning I wake up to a closet not filled with designer shoes.
Well, I wake up disappointed about that most days.
I lost my job today. Just about two hours ago, actually.
I’m currently sitting on my couch with a glass of wine going through what I assume are the stages you go through when one gets laid off.
Wine. More wine. Would like some more wine.
OK, I haven’t reached acceptance yet. As a matter of fact I’m in pretty bad shape. I’m faced with finding a job in the worst economy our country as seen in a very long time.
And that scares the crap out of me.
But maybe this is an opportunity to do something I really love to do. Or at least something I really like to do.
In the meantime, I’ll take a week, drink some wine, have a good cry fest, revamp my resume and hope to God someone wants to hire me.
Any of you looking for a freelancer? I can write my ass off.
I’m going to get some more wine in the meantime.
Seriously. Flying into Denver I was surprised at how flat it is.
Other than that…
Weeeee I am tired! And my legs hurt from walking a trade show floor all day. But, I can honestly say, this is the first time I’ve actually loved this job.
Bandaid blister bandaids are a great invention.
As is Chipolte.
And a shower. Seriously, I was taking for granted the transformative power they hold.
And riding a fake cow at midnight is fun.
Back to work…
Tomorrow morning at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m. my flight will depart for Denver. I have not packed. I haven’t even remotely begun to even think about packing. I did, however, do laundry yesterday so at least I’m one step ahead of the game.
I actually considering starting to pack this weekend, but then wedding band shopping, barbecue hopping and mudslides with Oreo cookie crumbles and one really ouchy hornet sting on my stomach conveniently made me forget all about it. Until I woke up this morning and realized that I have to be at the airport when the little hand is on the four and that leaves no time for last minute packing.
The good news: during the day it will be a rotation of the same pants, shoes and work shirts (side note: work shirts never fit right, do they?) so that will be pretty simple to pack. It’s the evening events I have to really think about, all while fitting everything in one suite case. I’ll probably have to limit my shoes. Meh.
So for now, I bid you adieu. I’ve left you with three fabulous guest bloggers to keep you entertained and I’ll be back Monday, possibly drooling and mumbling something about sleep and airplane peanuts.
(PS- Happy birthday to my little sister! Nineteen today omigod. Not so little anymore.)
Posting is going to be sporadic the next two weeks, as every single moment of my work day is actually being consumed by work, work and MORE WORK. We leave next week for Denver and while the actual trip should be pretty cool, the preparation leading up to it is nothing but completely and totally draining.
Case in point, I brought lunch today, then completely forgot I did. So I bought lunch, leaving my leftover homemade Thai chicken pizza sitting sadly in the fridge. This is actually progress, because yesterday I forgot to eat entirely. Forgot. To. Eat. ME! Something is clearly wrong here.
I haven’t lined up any guest posters for next week because honestly, I have not had the time to read any of you, let alone compose a coherent email that says something along the lines of, space for rent — cheap. Box of chocolate donuts or best offer.
So if you’d like to do a guest post, shoot me an email. I’ve got four days to fill.
Also, I’ve been wearing jeans and flip flops almost every day to work for the last couple days. I can’t put the energy into getting dressed in anything decent because the only time I’m seeing the light of day, let alone any other human being, is when I run to the bathroom after not peeing for hours because OMIGOD THERE IS SO MUCH WORK GO AWAY.
Am I even making sense anymore? I have no idea.
Hopefully I will have a moment tomorrow because I have a dilemma to write about and you guys always have the best answers.
Back to the grind…
Work, what is it good for?
(Aside from paying the bills, allowing me to have a wedding, a roof over my head, a car, lots of shoes and food on a regular basis.)
(And oh yeah, I guess life experience and friendships that I wouldn’t have gained otherwise.)
(And maybe blogging too — because I started blogging on a down day at work.)
(Damn it, there goes my whole theory about working being good for nothing.)
I really don’t think I’m cut out to be a working woman. I mean yes, work is a necessary evil of life and I think I do my job pretty well, but if I really had the choice I would opt to retire like, last week, and live the life of a lady of leisure.
What, like it’s hard?
I just think I could fill my free time with much better things than sitting at a desk all day and dealing with press people. Like…
Being a dance teacher. Not any professional competition business, but teaching kids under 10. I realize that theoretically I could do that now, but unfortunately the paycheck would not be as substantial.
Professional shopper. Need an outfit for a big date? I’m your girl. Especially if you wear a size 8.5 shoe and need me to try on every pair of Jimmy Choos in the store. I mean, it’s asking a lot, but I’d take one for the team.
Professional blog writer. Oh why the hell not? Writing is actually something I enjoy more than anything and it’s much easier to spew the inner contents of my brain onto a page than write a magazine piece (which by the way, Anna, it came in the mail Friday and looks awesome!)
Miss Cleo version 2. Don’t you miss those commercials for a phone psychic? I could totally do that. And not end up with a lawsuit against me. I hope.
Ice cream taste tester. Ben & Jerry’s, I’m looking at you.
Muse. For Christian Louboutin.
What would you do if you could retire right this very minute?
You better not say be Miss Cleo version 2 because I’ve got the hold on that market thankyouverymuch.