“I’ve been laid off over six months now, live with my grand parents, have tattoos and a four year old boy. I’m a great catch for the next guy that comes along.”
This dripping sarcasm was said by H. who I was talking to last week. Actually, for the little, frail looking hipster woman she was, she had a better grasp of reality than most. She was right. When I found out she was living with her grand’s, I thought there was no way was I going to carry her around financially. I wasn’t about to be purchasing “good times,” laundry detergent, gasoline and the occasional winter coat for her kid.
She knew her polish is now worn off and can’t compete in the single arena with those with jobs.
What I’m stumbling across now, or running into more often, are people who are out of work. A lot more.
Unemployed. I’ve been there once. The thing about it is the incredible boredom that comes with having every day of the week off for months. I learned to clean the house, deep clean it, three times a month. I found myself painting, doing yard work and inventing inexpensive projects around the home to keep busy. Anything to have purpose for that week.
Also, you live in some sort of weird limbo even amongst your friends. You may be laid off due to no fault of your own and yet you feel “different” still. Your friends get up, work, have a goal, direction; even if it’s only for that day. While you get up and look out the window and reread the newspaper twice. You float.
Your occupation, without you knowing it really, is a huge part of who you are and at some levels, where you derive some of your pride and self esteem. Go without that work, even a chintzy job, and you’ll feel the loss.
Nowadays, I’m reminded of when I was out of work by all these new ones I keep running into. If I was out of work again, what would I do? Besides pumping out 20 resumes a week? I’d be cleaning the house, doing yard work, painting…
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