Every Day is Judgment Day

Not too long ago, I wrote about rejection fatigue. How the endless dismissal of my job applications eats away at my self-confidence and yes, soul.

That is still very much true. However, I’ve realized relentless professional rejection is not the

only slight damaging my soul and psyche. When job hunting, we expect rejection as part of the process. Nobody gets every job applied for, so we know going in there is a 50/50 chance we will not be chosen.

Yet underpinning rejection is something much more sinister — judgment. Think about it: Every time we submit a resume or fill out an application, we are being judged. Sometimes that judgment is fair; we simply don’t have the requisite experience or skills for the particular job. Other times, our rejection is based on one minor miscue — a wrong answer during an interview or a misspelling in our cover letter. Those judgments are painful, but at least we understand why we were rejected and can vow to do better the next time — if there is a next time.

It’s when we believe we were judged unfairly or harshly — or given no reason for the ultimate judgment and subsequent rejection — which gives us the most psychic pain. We ruminate, we judge ourselves severely, believing we did something terrible that justified our punitive treatment. In reality, we may not have done anything wrong, but it is so easy to fall down that slippery slope of self-doubt. It’s inevitable.

Not only during job hunts are we being judged. It’s also when we are, ahem, laid off. Unless an entire company or department goes belly up, management picks who stays — and who gets kicked to the curb. That, my dear friends, is a value judgment (oh, there’s that word again!). A manager has judged you to be less valuable, less of a worker, than another co-worker. That hurts, and leads us to question our abilities, especially since layoff decisions are typically opaque and we’re given no insight into why we were picked for the dung heap of joblessness while someone else was judged superior.

Judgment and its byproduct rejection also haunt every freelance assignment I do. Will the editor like the article? Will it be published? Or will it be judged inferior and rejected? Friends extol the benefits of positive thinking, to believe in myself. Yet without external validation or even occasional positive judgment, self-doubt corrodes my soul and obliterates my self confidence.

Even more frustrating is that these are mostly subjective judgments, not a test with a definitive right or wrong answer. This maddening situation has forced me to appreciate what actors and celebrities go through daily in our nosy Internet age. Not only are they judged on their work, but how they dress and rear their children. True, they are narcissistic media hogs, but sometimes all this attention and accompanying judgment must grate on them. I'm sure they want to shout, Hey, I worked 14 hours and had to stay up all night with a kid with an earache. Can't I just get a cup of coffee in peace! Nevertheless, many simply smile or put their heads down and soldier on – as we all must do in the face of constant judgment.

In my own life, I must admit ever since the consultant I had been working with divulged his douchelagoon client said we didn’t “click” during our one and only interview, I’ve been racking my delicate psyche for reasons why: What did I say that could have possibly turned him off? (He did most of the talking!) Was my work so much shoddier than the other freelancers? Why was I given the heave-ho from the project while they were kept on? I know this isn’t healthy, but without a clear reason, I can’t help but think the worst, to internalize all the tough judgments heaped on me. One editor slammed me for — gasp! horrors! — using passive voice and wordiness. Chill out, sister. You made minor changes in the first two graphs of a 1,000-word article and untouched the rest. Yet, even minor judgments carry harsh consequences.

Especially to my self esteem. Though I continue to look for a job and attempt to drum up freelance assignments, I have lost all confidence in my ability. Every article I write I judge as rotten.

If we are fortunate, we’re told why we were judged in a certain manner and can take positive steps to improve for the next opportunity. Unfortunately, sometimes we don’t get a second chance. A harsh, unfair and unexplained judgment stands.

I have yet to hear from that editorial consultant. Meanwhile, he has bestowed more assignments on those other two freelancers. One offhand comment was all it took for me to be judged inferior and unworthy of another chance. 

Life Hacks for Unemployed Losers

Instead of my usual whiny rants against unfair layoffs, nasty bosses, douchey clients, and blatant ageism in hiring practices, I’d like to discuss another favorite topic: How to save

money when you are unemployed and have no steady income.

I’ve touched on this topic previously, detailing how you can convert credit card points and frequent flyer miles for gifts and trips. I’ll spare you the obvious money-saving tips like coupon clipping (which you should be doing whether employed or not) and seeking out discounts whenever possible.

When you are a long-term unemployed loser, you must be more resourceful than that. Just this week, I used some creativity to save myself an enormous amount of money on a hair cut and color.

It had been almost two years since my last visit to a hair salon, and, frankly, my hair was getting unruly. It had grown to waist-length, and to be honest, I’m well past the age when flower-child, long, flowing locks are appropriate. It was a tangled mess, and oof — the gray! But I avoided the hair salon because paying rent and buying food took priority.

Yet it got to the point where I could no longer ignore the matted mishmash at my crown. It was weighing me down — literally and figuratively. I have thick, wavy hair — the kind everyone thinks they want until they realize it means a five-minute blow-dry every morning, gets knotted easily when too long, and frizzes like a Brillo pad in the humidity.

What could I do? My regular hairdresser charges $140 for a cut and color. Too expensive. Heck, that’s too pricey even when I did have a job.

I checked Super Cuts, which would have brought the cost down to $70. Cheaper, but could I do better, I wondered?

Then I remembered how dental hygienist schools sometimes give low-cost teeth cleanings as a teaching tool for their students. Might not a beauty school do the same?

So, through the wonder that is Google, I found a beauty school near me. Yes, its salon welcomed clients, and the price list on its website was more than reasonable. I called and was told to come for a skin test to ensure I didn’t have an allergic reaction to their products. I did so and saw no bad reaction.

Once I got payment for a freelance job, I called for an appointment. My hairdresser was a student, but she was near the end of the program. That makes sense — doubtful the school would unleash a new student on a salon client.

Further, the instructor — the flashily dressed Miss Sue — supervised every step of the cut and coloring process while fluttering around on electric-blue, seven-inch heels. A person like her could only exist in Jersey. Yet underneath her frosted crown of hair, she obviously knew her job and was a top-notch teacher. I felt assured my new hairdo would be professionally done — which is not something I can say of every salon I’ve visited in the past. I’ve endured some terrible haircuts by indifferent and sometimes downright nasty hairdressers that left in me in tears and took nine months to grow out. In college, one “hairdresser” scowled at me while he hacked chunks of my hair in willy-nilly fashion. Unbelievable. I left feeling it was my fault because I had “bad” hair.

Because of those frightening incidents, I usually request a blunt cut, nothing too fancy. So, I knew going in I wasn’t asking for anything too elaborate and definitely something a student hairdresser could handle. I merely wanted a trim and a dye matching my natural hair color to cover the gray. I couldn't look any worse than I did before I entered the beauty school salon.

Now, she was deliberate, as you would expect (and want) a student to be. The whole process took over three hours, longer than a normal salon visit that typically takes two.

Now to the best part: the cut and color cost $34. With a $12 tip (okay, I could have given more, but remember, I’m still unemployed), the entire bill came to $46. Not bad, and the results are excellent. My new hairdo looks as if were done by a professional — and it was.

I would definitely recommend contacting a local beauty school if you want to save a lot on a hair cut and color. You have nothing to lose by giving it a try. If you want a more elaborate hairstyle for a special occasion, then go to a professional salon. But for a basic cut and color, a beauty school is a great option. Hey, if it doesn’t look good, you can always go to a regular salon for a redo; but as my experience shows, that won’t be necessary. Choose a well-established, national chain, as I did, not some fly-by-night cosmetology school. Do your research.

When you are unemployed, you must get inventive to find ways to save money on so-called non-essential items. Will a new haircut and no grays help get me a job? Who knows? Solve my financial problems? No. However, I feel a tad better about myself, and even the smallest boost in confidence can’t hurt at this point.

Now, about that mani-pedi...

Who Do You Trust?

The answer, as I have lately realized, is no one. Trust. No. One. That is my mantra. Forget those corny posters with inspirational sayings, like Persevere, Never Let Go of Your Dreams, Be Kind, or

some such BS. None will ever grace my wall. What will is the one that states: Trust. No. One.

This past week drove home that cynical truism in the worst possible way. About a year ago, I started working with a freelance editorial consultant. Essentially, he found clients, and then hired freelance writers to report and compose articles (i.e., the real work). Things had been going smoothly, or so I thought. Of course, there was the typical back-and-forth between writer and editor. Nothing out of the ordinary. He seemed pleased with my work.

Earlier this year, he asked two other freelancers and myself to ghostwrite blogs for a marketing executive. To be honest, this was a new type of assignment for me. However, since my freelance work has pushed me into areas previously unknown to me, I figured, why not give it try. When I take on a new assignment, I jump feet first, full bore. We can debate the results good or bad, but you can never question my effort.

Long story short: I did the assignment to the best of my ability, adhering to the instructions. Each of us had to “write” three blogs on topics given to us. True of my life of late, one of my assignments was one of the more difficult ones, and one, frankly, the marketing executive pretty much ignored. He obviously had no interest in dealing with the topic. Nevertheless, I tried my best.

Since the blogs were to be bylined by this marketing executive, all the articles were heavily rewritten. Considering the nature of the assignment — writing for someone else’s voice — that was to be expected. When I asked about the rewrites — remember, this is a new assignment for me and I wanted to know if the work I did was okay — I was told it was fine, that the changes were normal. All the blogs I wrote were subsequently posted on several online publications.

The editorial consultant told us there would be more work for this particular client in June. Sounds good, I thought. I can use the money and maybe I’ll do better the second time.

Well, dear reader, I think you know where this is heading. A week ago, I was dismissed from the job, or more precisely “archived” off the Internet job board where the workflow was documented. Yet another sudden, slap-in-my-face professional rejection and embarrassment.

When I questioned the editorial consultant about the reason for this, he at first gave some mealy-mouthed explanation about not having enough work to go around, the assignment changed, he didn’t need three writers, an in-house person would be doing the assignment…blah, blah, blah. Then came the real kicker: The marketing guy told the editorial consultant that he and I didn’t “click” well over the phone during our interview. When I read that, my shoulders slumped, tears stung my eyes, and my confidence sank. It hurled me back to every time I was criticized and backstabbed by bosses and co-workers.

Now, I could go into a lengthy diatribe about why we didn’t “click.” But that would take up too much space, and sound rather whiny and defensive. Since I truly do not know what he meant by that statement, I have no clue as to what possibly went wrong — or if anything did go majorly wrong. It would be pure speculation on my part. I can assure you of this: I was professional and polite during the entire assignment. I don’t know how to act any other way.

There's no point in trying to rationalize anyway. The editorial consultant has to please the client, and if the client wants me gone, well, I’m a goner. The client is always right, even if that client is a douche-bro from Connecticut, land of craft beers, beemers, and white privilege. The entire stuck-up state ought to be renamed West Rhodesia. He probably likes the ego-surge of dumping a nobody like me off the assignment. Hey, it's his money, so that gives him the right to act like a jerk.

I didn’t respond to the email about not clicking with the client. No point. I would sound crazy (although in truth I took up residence in CrazyTown many eons ago).

More upsetting was learning later the two other freelancers are still working on this assignment. What the what!? (I learned this because I still have access to the Internet job board where the assignments are posted.) So, obviously, there is enough work for three freelancers. I was not picked to continue. Was their work better than mine? Apparently so. That hurts, not only because it is a poor reflection on my work, but, dammit, I need that extra money.

I’m not angry with the editorial consultant. He has his business to run, and my insecurities and feelings are of no concern to him. His priority is his bottom line — even if that damages my bottom line. It's his prerogative to dismiss me. But I'm under no obligation to accept or like his treatment of me.

So, no, I'm not angry with him. The person I’m angriest with is myself. Yes — me, myself and I. Angry because I believed this guy when he said there would be more work on this assignment for me. I believe he liked my previous work. I trusted. And what did I get in return? I was lied to and betrayed.

There could be work for me on other client assignments, the editorial consultant mewed unconvincingly. But I’m not holding my breath. Would I consider those jobs if offered? Of course I would. My financial situation is such that I cannot refuse any job. Alas, I doubt any offer is forthcoming. The relationship, as I perceive it, has been severed. Trust broken is never to be regained. You're dead to me Fredo.

Sadly, his actions have once again hoisted me into an insidious whirlpool of self-doubt: I’m not good enough. My work is horrible. I can’t write. I suck. No one will hire me. I'll be homeless in six months.

For a year, I worked hard for this editorial consultant, toiling on the weekends and meeting my deadlines. And all seemed fine while he was underpaying and over-working me, so he could reap money off my diligence. But one client makes an offhand comment and I’m gone? How is that fair?

Sadly, this is not new experience for me. I worked for a company for 16 years, and was laid off. Another company kicked me to the curb after three. Once again — once again! — I trusted that if I worked hard, my boss would treat me right. I was wrong.

Once again — once again! — I trusted my professional future and financial stability with another person who took it away without one iota of compassion or thought of how it would affect me. They didn't care. Never will I make that mistake again. Never. 

In all those instances, never once did I get a chance to defend or explain myself — or receive a clear, logical reason why I was terminated. Perhaps the reason we didn’t “click” wasn’t all on me. Since I have no idea what he meant by that, I have no clue as to what I did wrong, if anything. At the very least, if I knew what I did wrong, I could use that information to improve for the next time. Looks like there won’t be a next time. Oh, well…

As a side note, I had followed “Mr. Didn’t Click” on Twitter and connected with him on LinkedIn. Not anymore. Doubtful this egotistical douchebag will even notice, but it was my way of saying, “click off, Buddy.”

So where do I go from here? Tomorrow is Monday. I'll submit a freelance article I've been working on for two weeks (hopefully it'll be better received than the blogs I wrote for that marketing guru/master of the universe/class A prick). I’ll scour the job boards for full-time jobs and freelance gigs. If hired, I’ll work hard, but with an understanding that I can only really depend on myself and my ability to do a good job. Employers toss you aside, with no warning or explanation. You can’t depend on them. I’ve learned my lesson.

Trust. No. One.