It’s Me Again

Oh, hello there. Been a while. But since more than 22 30 million (and counting) people are now unemployed, I figured it was a good time to re-up my blog on being jobless. As someone who’s been laid off twice — yeah, twice — I have some wisdom to share.

So, what’s been up with me lo these past three years? Well, the news isn’t good. I’ve been freelancing, and with that comes the typical ups and downs in jobs and incomes. So far, I’ve survived, but for how much longer?

Then, two years ago my landlord decided to sell the three-family home in which I rented an apartment. The house was sold and I was evicted. Let me tell you, finding an apartment without a steady, full-time job ain’t fun. It can be downright soul crushing.

I understand landlords are wary of renting to a freelancer, and I had people tell me upfront they wouldn’t rent to me based on my income. I expected that reaction, but when it’s said to your face, it can really gut your self-confidence.

I was upset about losing my home, as anyone would be. But when I told my sister and my best friend about my predicament, they pretty much said (and I’m summarizing here): Tough luck, this is what you get for renting; I’m not helping you (even though I never asked for help; I was simply venting about an upsetting situation). Their attitudes were, to quote Rhett Butler, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Nice ...kick me when I’m down why doncha? It’s like I’ve always known — people don’t care about your problems, they only care about their own. 

But by a stroke of a luck and the help of a very nice realtor lady, I found a nice apartment to rent. It’s a small studio, but it’s perfect for my needs. Homelessness averted — for now.

That’s not the end of it, unfortunately. Just when I thought things were calming down and going my way, I fell seriously ill, went to the hospital for a 10-day stay (still paying off that bill), and was diagnosed with a serious illness that will likely need more treatment in the near future. For the past two years, I’ve alternated between periods of feeling healthy and feeling lousy, and I never know when my health will crash or stay normal.

 And as expected, I’ve lost work because of it. Oh, well…(By the way, the illness isn’t the one you’re probably thinking it is, but I don’t want to go into details. The only good thing to come from this horrible mess is I’m 25 pounds lighter.)

Then, the coronavirus pandemic hit, and the part-time job that was pretty much the only thing keeping me barely afloat financially, slashed my weekly assignments. Not their fault at all. I don’t blame them. Who knew this virus would be so horrific? It was not like the other two times I was laid off because upper management were either blithering idiots or back-stabbing bastards and bitches. Now, my current employers may be jerks, but since I work remotely, I don’t see it close up (and that makes my work life so much better — or did).

Because I’m technically still working for them (albeit with a severe cut in weekly assignments), I likely don’t qualify for unemployment. I almost wish they would lay me off so I would qualify for unemployment benefits, although that would make a three-time layoff loser. A trifecta I don’t want to hit.

Well, enough about my shitty luck. You’re probably feeling depressed and angry right now, and worried about how the heck you’re going to find a job when so many businesses are shuttered. That’s normal. Sure, friends and family are telling you to cheer up, everything will work out. But when? You’ll get another job, they say. Really? Now? Are they brain dead?

You have every right to feel shitty right now, despite what everyone says. Don’t let them tell you anything different. Most people don’t want to hear anything negative, even if, well, things suck big time.

But I would also caution you to be very careful about who you vent to. I know your fist instinct is to rush onto social media and advertise your plight — don’t! As my experience with telling my sister and friend about my eviction showed, people can be assholes. Not everyone has the empathy gene. The worse thing that can happen is to tell someone about your situation and get a slap in the face in return. You know those who would be sympathetic — and those who couldn’t care less. Reach out to the kind hearts and steer clear of the douchebags.

Yet even then, be circumspect in what you say. Don’t tell them everything or how you’re really feeling. Honestly, they don’t give a shit, so why bother. Hate to the be the bearer of bad news, but there are likely some friends and family who would be secretly happy to see you fail. (I know of one former “frenemy” who if she learned of my situation would be dancing for joy. Think I’m being harsh? You don’t know this narcissistic, condescending bitch the way I do. Like the saying goes, people eventually show you who they really are.)

Cynical? Too negative? Yeah, I agree. Maybe it’s because the eviction/serious illness/loss of income tsunami has me in a major funk. I feel like a punch-drunk boxer who’s absorbed so many body blows that it doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m numb, actually. 

But here’s some practical advice: File for unemployment. I know it’s like pulling a shark’s tooth to get through to the unemployment office, but keep trying. You need that money.

As for health insurance, you could sign up for COBRA. But you may also be able to sign up for Obamacare. Check with your state. From my experience, you’ll get lower premiums from Obamacare than COBRA. I recall that if you were laid off, you could switch to Obamacare from COBRA without waiting for the open enrollment period. That may not be the case anymore, but it’s worth checking out.

Oh, and take a shower every morning. Just because you’re an unemployed loser like me doesn’t mean you can’t practice good personal hygiene. It will make you feel better. Trust me.

What’s so anxiety provoking about this downturn is there is no way to know when it will end and life gets back to normal. We have no idea when the hurricane will past and clear skies appear. Not that I believe in good things ever happening again. Oh, sorry I’m being negative again. Mustn’t do that and ruin your no doubt already lousy day.

So, How Does it Feel?

The emails jammed my already crowded inbox with regularity, all with the same theme: So and So had been laid off at my two former workplaces, who, in a marriage of clueless and heartless corporate gangs, merged a few years ago. A news article confirmed it was so.

One of the former colleagues kicked to the curb was an arrogant senior editor who shifted his work onto me every chance he got. He only wanted to do one thing, and one thing only.

So when there was an assignment he didn’t want to do, he pushed it on me. I didn’t say anything because he had seniority over me and it was obvious his male superiors were going to protect him. Hey, I don’t want to see any one get laid off, but in his case, his laziness and indifference finally caught up with him.

Other emails hinted the raging drunk who harassed me for 16 years was also on his way out, along with his happy hour buddy, a frequently inebriated, nasty, cheating lout with disgusting personal habits. But before that jerk got the boot, he weaseled himself to another job, where he will surely be shocked to learn he cannot get away with the same bad behavior tolerated for so long at his former job. A rude awakening awaits. His farewell party splashed across Facebook, and if it’s on Facebook, it must be true, right?

Hazier was the fate of my former horrible boss. When I inquired of my sources where they heard this information, they said it was PR people. In other words, unreliable office gossip. I had heard rumors of this guy’s (and the company’s) demise before and nothing came of it. I had no reason to believe this time would be any different.

He had somehow survived, despite his drunkenness, poor management, and abusive behavior. He actually once told the HR lady that screaming at underlings made them perform better! How this man worked at the same place for 30 plus years without a harassment lawsuit filed against him boggles the mind.

He was an office bully who, in true alcoholic fashion, blamed everyone else for his shortcomings and failures. He raged whenever he felt like it, just to assert his power. Every mistake, no matter how slight, pitched him into a fit. His long survival stands as an exemplar of white male privilege. No matter how badly he acted or the company performed, the All White Males Club protected his pimply pale ass. He knew how to play the corporate game. Or as a former colleague said, he kissed up and punched down.

One of my former co-worker made an interesting comment. She said she had heard a woman executive at the parent company was giving this guy and his bar buddy a hard time. Considering how misogynist these jerks are, I’m sure they hated being belittled by a —Horrors! How dare she! — woman. Again, with nothing more to go on than gossip, I didn’t believe someone who survived more plagues than a cockroach was truly gone.

Then, THE email finally came. My former colleague noted that the website masthead no longer listed his name. (Again, I checked. It didn’t.) So he really was gone…or was he? A little while later, I logged onto website, and there is was — definitive proof. A goodbye column written in his name. I say written in his name because when I was there, whenever he had to moderate a panel or do a presentation, he always made one of the editors, like me, write it for him. So I’m positive another editor wrote that vomit-inducing column. No one, except maybe the pill-popping alcoholic whore he installed over me as the editor in chief, is sorry to see him go, I’m sure. Finally, corporate cutbacks reached upper management. Boo hoo.

For many years, I shied away from anything near my former workplace, fearful I’d bump into his toxic orbit. I knew if I did, he’d come after me. That’s not paranoia, it’s how that guy operates. He’s all about revenge. (I’m sure he hated me for outing the plagiarism of a former editor.) Now, he is gone, and I’m thankful, although I still want nothing to do with my former workplace. And it certainly doesn’t change my increasingly dire financial situation.

But if I ever did see him again, I’d like to ask him a few questions, like….

How did it feel to have your fate decided in a boardroom without you being there? How did it feel to not have any chance to save yourself or learn the real reason behind your layoff?

How does it feel to not have someplace to go everyday where you can spew your self-hate at other defenseless people? How does it feel to not have any power at all?

How did it feel to clean out your desk, go home, and face the fact you have no steady paycheck coming in after just 26 weeks of unemployment? How did it feel to wonder and worry how you’re going to pay the mortgage and health insurance without that steady paycheck?

How does it feel to apply for job after job and get rejection after rejection?

How did it feel when you realized you could no longer terminate other people to save your job?

How did it feel to have worked for three decades at the same company and then be told you were worthless to them?

For so long, you were so smug, confident in your belief you would never get laid off. Now, you’re just another out-of-work loser, just like all the other people whose jobs you terminated while you continued to pull down a hefty paycheck for doing nothing. You know now you were nothing special.

So I have to ask you, how does it feel?

Double Standard

A few weeks ago ESPN dumped some of its grossly overpaid on-air “personalities” in a mass layoff. This set off the expected boo-hoo-ing in the media. How could ESPN put all those nice people out of work? ESPN bosses are such meanies! This is awful! Such bad times in the media industry and those people had to suffer! Upper management is stupid and to blame, and those people didn’t deserve to lose their jobs!

Really? Tell me about it. I’ve been laid off twice and have never gotten such expressions of sympathy. My twitter feed (which has many sport writers on it because of my baseball obsession) burst with heartfelt condolences to those now-former ESPN’ers. Me? Most I got was “sorry to hear that” from friends and family. After my second layoff, my sister — my sister! — sent me a text that said, “Bet you were surprised.” Not exactly comforting, eh? My former co-workers? Most have cut all contact with me after I was booted. Hey, guys, my job was sacrificed to save yours! Doesn’t that warrant a thank you, guys. Guys? Hello? Anybody remember me?

The ESPN layoffs got me thinking. (Freelance work is slow now, so I have time to think. Maybe not a good thing that is.) Everybody can agree that layoffs are bad and hurtful. Losing a job is never a pleasant experience for anybody, no matter their profession. Yet we seem to have a double standard when it comes to parceling out sympathy to those who have been laid off. People who are public figures, or semi-public figures, like the ESPN’ers, amass an outpouring of compassion, even though their cushy salaries and marketable names make it almost a lock they will ride their brief period of unemployment without any injury to their bank accounts. Most will end up writing for one of those sports websites that sprout like dandelions in spring (and will be lucky to last two years). So should we really feel sorry for them?

So, yeah, public figures tend to engender sympathy when they lose their jobs — as opposed to the faceless, nameless editors and journalists cast out by their callous overloads at newspapers and media companies

Politicians, too, single out certain professions for our sympathy when workers toiling in those fields lose their jobs en masse. Like coal miners and steelworkers. But I wonder if those same politicians will direct their attention to all the retail workers headed to the unemployment line when hoary retailers like Sears and JCPenney shutter stores?

Why a double standard? Aren’t we all victims of the same societal upheavals: shifting consumer tastes and consumption habits, technology rendering some workers obsolete, and a rapidly evolving job market that requires new skills many workers simply don’t have. Weren’t we all sacrificed for management’s brain-dead decisions? Like ESPN paying billions of dollars — yes, billions! — for the rights to NFL and NBA games.

And aren’t we all victims of cruel upper management; indifferent boards of directors; and ruthless investment bankers — all locked on profits and merciless cost cutting. Workers be damned! We want more $$$ to our bottom line (and obscene executive pay).

The ESPN fiasco highlights another trend I’ve been seeing lately in layoffs. My former workplace(s) recently laid off a number of my former co-workers (more on that in another post). This time, however, instead of ditching some low or mid-level salesperson or editor, the powers that be targeted several higher up editors and executives (including the horrible drunken boss who bullied me for 16 years). Layoffs have definitely moved up the corporate totem pole. Makes sense — there are only so many secretaries and assistant editors you can lay off before upper management takes aim at higher salaried but useless employees.

Pretty soon those same upper management drones will be without a job. Will anybody feel sorry for them?

One More Time

I read the email subject line and immediately my stomach rumbled. “Editorial assignments changing,” it said. Let’s talk over the phone, the text of the email said. You don’t go through two layoffs without knowing what the endgame will be.

 

To be honest, I’d been anticipating the email for quite some time, ever since the company offshored some of their content creation to the Philippines. (I kid you not.) Then, they slashed my hours. Then, the criticism of my copyediting (mistakes all the copy editors made and worse, but somehow I was singled out). Then came the near fatal blow — I was assigned busy-work duties more suitable for an intern. So, yeah, I knew the gig was soon up. But I figured I’d string it along as long as I could for the money. Always for the money.

So when I was told my editing duties would be taken over by a computer program (I kid you not), I wasn’t surprised. The boss offered me writing assignments…for extremely low pay and very high volume (100 press release rewrites per week for $3 each). If I could write that fast (I don’t), I couldn’t do that and my other content marketing jobs (for higher pay). So I had to refuse. After the way I was treated why would I want to work for that shabby outfit anymore? It wasn’t just me who thought my treatment was undeserved; the former editor (she quit, smart lady) I worked closely with wrote that I “shouldn’t have been treated that way.” I’m not saying I didn’t make mistakes, but I was punished more harshly for them.

So once again, I get booted from a job. Albeit a freelance, part-time job, but a layoff by any other name.

I worked for this company for nearly two years, always willing to work extra hours when asked. (And where did that get me?) I liked getting paid weekly, though. With my other freelance jobs more tentative and less steady, I knew I’d have money in my bank account to grocery shop every Friday. Now? Well, I can only hope my other two freelance jobs can make up the difference. I’m not so sure.

It also gave the sometimes unstructured life of a freelancer a semblance of structure: writing in the morning, editing in the afternoon. Now, that's gone, too.

But I don’t feel angry. I feel sad, and nostalgic, anxious, worried about my ever-dwindling financial stability. It’s also a bitter reminder of my other two layoffs and the emotional trauma I apparently have yet to recover from. I never had a deep reservoir of self-confidence, but what little there ever was is completely gone now. Forever, I think.

It’s also a reminder of the impermanence of life. Jobs, relationships…all fleeting and gone in an instant and beyond our control. Our lives totter on sand, not steel, yet we cling to the illusion of permanence as a shield against Bad Things Happening. It doesn’t work that way. Bad things happen anyway, and we clump through the dark to find another path.

We try to grab hold of things, people, jobs, yet are shocked when those objects turn out to be nothing more than projections of our own fear of loss. They’re really just 3-D holograms we can never touch or fully possess. We never really had them, so why should we be surprised when they are gone?