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.

Never Can Say Goodbye

The news was not unexpected. Yet what the intellect knows, the hearts does not want to believe. We cling to hope like a buoy in a sea storm. It won’t happen, it won’t happen…

“Your cousin died this morning,” the gravelly, exhausted voice said over the phone.

I knew this day was coming; I just didn’t want to believe. My dear cousin had fought bravely

for 12 years against a rare cancer that takes the life of most sufferers within a year. A vibrant, vocal (she told it to you straight, no filters, but always from a place of love), stunningly beautiful woman, she fiercely loved her family and friends. She will be greatly missed. The world is dimmer today without her, as we, those who loved her, stumble through the overcast and our sadness without a lady we’ve known since our earliest remembrances. I went to her funeral, but the real grief begins now.

Another lady I’ve known for many years is now gone from my life, too. We worked together at my former former workplace. She worked as the secretary to the company president; I, an editor. We struck up a work friendship that blossomed into a real friendship when, after her retirement, she moved to a town close to me.

We’d get together on the weekends, seeing a movie (we loved James Bond), shopping at nearby mall (she loved Macys as much as I do), and having lunch at pub restaurant where we’d sip Irish Coffees after the meal. We’d chat about family, work, life — and clothes.

In recent years, her back pain worsened, and she began to walk with a cane. She’d talk openly about selling her condo and moving closer to her daughter in Connecticut. A widow, living on her own was becoming increasingly difficult. Yet once again, I didn’t want to believe she’d actually leave.

The last time we talked, she said she didn’t feel up to getting together. That’s okay, I replied, I just want you to know you are well. Call me when you are able and we’ll have our Irish Coffees.

No call came. I sent her a Christmas card with a gift card in it. She sent back a Christmas card, wishing me health and happiness in the New Year. That was it.

Once the hubbub of the holidays ended, I called her number. It was disconnected. Shocked, I rushed to my computer, and after a quick Google search, saw her condo was — and still is — up for sale.

I mailed a letter to her old address, hoping it would be forwarded to wherever she is. The letter was not returned to me, but I also received no reply from her.

What happened? Where is she? Is she well? I don’t have the answers. I contacted the son of the gentleman she worked for, thinking perhaps he knew her location. He said his father would get back to him. I made it clear that if she doesn’t want to contact me, that’s fine. I just want to know she is safe and healthy. Still no word…

Now, she, too, is gone. Why didn't she tell me she was leaving?

As I process these losses, I realize that my career is also gone. Something that has been part of my life for so long, my ability to support myself, has drifted away like wisps of dandelions in the wind. I try to grab it back, but it eludes my grasp.

No one will hire me, and freelance gigs are drying up. Just this week I was informed one publication is going through a “reorganization” (translation: we’re laying off freelancers). I was banished from another job for reasons still unclear.

Yet, I know this is merely the ebb and flow of life, like ocean waves lapping to and fro on a sandy shore. What was once there, so visible and solid, suddenly disappears. Good times zigzag with bad times. Life is a series of transitions, some good, some not so good. Change is never easy, but we endure. We lose jobs; we find (we hope) new jobs. People are in our lives and then they leave.

We knit their memories in our minds. Despite the sadness pressing on our hearts, we move forward. We put one foot in front the other and keep walking — and hoping. Always hoping.

Just don’t ask me to say goodbye.

A Word About Ageism. (Pauses. Sips Tea.)

So I’m in the middle of a job interview two weeks ago when the interviewer says to me, “You have too much experience for this job. You’d be bored.” I knew then I had no chance of getting that job. That statement ranks among the top 5 of “Things You Never Want to Hear

During a Job Interview.” I was doomed.

Any employment expert — or long-time job hunter — knows the phrase “too much experience” is code for: “This person is too old for the job. I’m never going to hire him/her. Bring me a younger person.”

Yes, folks, ageism is alive and well in the workplace. Not only do companies target older workers for layoffs (I should know), they dismiss them outright for jobs for which they have every qualification simply because they are considered “too old.”

Like my recent job interview. Nowhere in the ad did it mention this was an entry-level position. I possessed the requisite skills and background for the job, not to mention knowledge of the company’s particular industry. Yet, a day later, I received the dreaded “We are going with another candidate” email. Yeah, a younger candidate, no doubt.

This wasn’t my first encounter with flagrant ageism. One particularly nasty guy I interviewed with looked at me and sneered, “At your age it would be hard to get a job.” Could he be any more transparent? His implication was clear: Since no one else will hire you, I may — for a paltry salary — and I can treat you as badly I want because no one else will give you a job. I’d rather be homeless, living in my own pee, than work for a horrible boss like that.

I knew when I started my job search 16 months ago my advanced age would hinder my ability to find employment. Add to that my two layoffs in four years, and I knew it would be a tough road. Yet, I was able to get job interviews, and I thought, foolishly I now know, that the skills I picked up at my last job would erase any doubts about my capability to master new technology. I was wrong, so wrong.

I’m not surprised that HR managers practice ageism when hiring. (Who’s going to stop them?) What does surprise me is how blatant they are about it, how little attempt they make to hide the fact they are discriminating against me because of my age, how they believe I'm so stupid I don't perceive their ageism. 

I’m also surprised when people of my generation discriminate against me because of my age. That woman who dismissed me for being “too experienced” (is that a bad thing?) was well past her 40th birthday. How would she feel if she was laid off and had to look for a job, only to be told she was “too experienced”?

Perhaps for that particular position I was too experienced. If that were the case, then the company should have specified it was an entry-level position or stated the salary range. Then, I wouldn’t have applied, gone in for the interview, and been crudely dismissed because of my age.

Of course, companies aim to pay only the lowest of salaries, so an experienced worker is automatically deemed to command too high a salary. Let’s hire young and cheap is the mantra of corporate America. My salary requirements run in line with the industry’s standards for someone with my experience, and I’m always willing to negotiate. Sadly, any attempt to negotiate salary has fallen on deaf ears.

There is more than mere ageism going on here. It’s the belief by so many employers that only the young know how to use technology. I believe that is a false assumption.

At my last job, I learned new tech systems and was given the toughest job in the department. Want to know what my beat was? Annuities. Yeah, good luck with that. It was the military equivalent of latrine duty. Hey, I was the newest employee, so I expected the shittiest assignment.

Nevertheless, I succeeded. I tripled page views on my channel and was the fourth most-read editor out of a staff of a dozen on the website. I was the lady who created a slideshow titled “12 Cheesy Sales Lines You Should Avoid.” It was a thing of beauty, and I had fun putting it together. A year after it was posted, it was still in the top 10 for page views. So, I proved I could learn new industries and technology. Great, right?

Unfortunately, the misogynist fraud that headed the department couldn’t deal with any older professional women and laid off three of us. He hated it when any female underling questioned him, and treated a lady recovering from cancer treatment very badly. He barely concealed his disdain for any of us. When the chance came to get rid of us, he did. Again, ageism reared its ugly head.

In light of my recent experience, I don’t understand why I’m summarily rejected for jobs simply on the assumption I’m too old to learn new tech skills. And why are young people automatically assumed to be digital wizards? And it’s not just me who feels that way.

I recently spoke to the head of a tech company for a freelance article. I asked what skills he looked for in new hires. The exasperation in his voice vibrated through the phone line. (Yes, it was a landline. It’s better for recording interviews. In my defense, I gave up my flip phone a long time ago.)

The gist of his answer was that while young people are users of technology, they remain clueless when it comes to developing a technology that can successfully solve a business problem. Just because Millennials are consumers of technology does not in any way mean they are innovators of technology. Heck, they may not even know how to code. If Millennials are such hotshot techies then why are they are thousands of coding bootcamps across the country? Yet, companies persist in the belief that only the young know technology and dismiss thousands of older workers based on a wrong-headed notion.

I fight a losing battle against that stigma every time I submit a job application. Age discrimination cases are notoriously hard to prove, so companies have no fear of dismissing older workers and being hit with a lawsuit. HR managers can spin the rejection of an older candidate by simply saying they weren’t right for the job or had “too much experience.”

That is so wrong, for so many reasons. Hiring someone based solely on their age is as stupid as rejecting a person because of their age. It’s ridiculous.

Why not look at the totality of a job applicant. Does the person have the skills and background for the job? In an interview, does the person seem personable and intelligent? Does that person have the capability and desire to learn new skills? Those are characteristics a person can possess at any age.

Are You a ‘Unicorn’?

Here’s another in a series of posts about jobs and job situations you should avoid like a Game of Thrones wedding party. Previously, I’ve detailed how to spot a jerk; why it’s a bad idea to be a “savior”; and the danger of working for a start-up.

This week, I’m discussing the “unicorn” job ad. Yes, it’s a real thing, unlike the mythical

creature of yore. What is a unicorn in the corporate world? Basically, it’s an employee that has the “soft” skills required for a particular position in addition to the prowess to do the technological tasks of the job. Think of a marketing executive who understands human behavior as well as coding and the ability to mine Big Data for consumer patterns.

In the media world, it’s a reporter who can report news, write it up in a coherent manner, edit other people’s work, and then go out and shoot and edit videos. Oh, and by the way, it doesn’t hurt if that reporter is a kick-ass graphic artist, too.

Here’s a perfect example of a unicorn:

“…… is seeking reporter/editor with a strong interest in both written and visual journalism ... The reporter/editor will work to enhance our infographics, and to develop survey-driven articles, columns and webcasts.”

Got that? In addition to reporting and writing, this unicorn must produce webcasts, research data, and create infographics. Anything else I can do for you, sir? Like wipe your butt and get you lunch?

Now, as someone who has worked in the field, I can say with some assurance that this person doesn’t exist, or doesn’t at this point in time.

Now, lest you accuse me of being a luddite, at my previous jobs, I actually did create infographics and produced videos. That was on top of my interviewing and writing long-form articles and daily news items. So, I have a good idea of what it takes to accomplish those tasks. Each is time-consuming. That is, if you want to do it properly.

In theory, I understand the need for a unicorn. Nearly every job requires some technical expertise. If you want to stay employed, you learn the programs, as I did.

In a person’s personal life, well, that’s a different story. People use technology as it fits into their individual lifestyle. They can go as high tech or low tech as they want. That’s their choice and no one should judge them. For a job, however, you master the technical skills required — or you won’t be employed very long.

Unfortunately, the problem with these imaginary unicorn employees is that our higher educational system has not quite caught up with the needs of employers. Employers want all these tech skills, but colleges are now scrambling to provide the courses. It’s why coding bootcamps are a big business today. They fill a gap higher educational institutions don’t currently fulfill. Colleges and universities will eventually catch up, but it will take time.

In the meantime, employers will demand that workers be experts in everything from human behavior and investigative reporting to web coding and Big Data mining. Fun times!

I also believe there is another factor behind this desire for a unicorn. Companies want their workers to do more than one job, because, hey, it’s cheaper. Why pay an IT person and a reporter when you can get one to do both for one measly salary. The fact that asking workers to do so many tasks means they are probably not going to do anything very well never enters into the employer’s mind. Heck, if one person can’t do the job, we’ll just find another unicorn. Employers demand excellence in all facets of a job. But is that realistic when you want somebody with both soft and technical skills? Is it fair to expect somebody to break news, produce webcasts and videos, all on the same day?

Hey, I’m just asking. Yes, companies have the right to define the skill sets required for particular jobs. I wonder, though, if demanding too many skills from one person is wise. Can that worker accomplish all those tasks to a high standard? Maybe, maybe not. A company may get labor on the cheap, but at what cost to overall quality — and the worker’s health?

Should you apply for a unicorn job ad? Only if you have the required technical and soft skills, or know you can learn them quickly. Otherwise, it’s a waste of time, much like chasing after the unicorn of fairy tales.

Beware the Start-Up

This week, I was laid off. Again.

Now, let me explain. In March, I started freelancing articles for a newly launched website.

The pay was low, but the workload was reasonable. And hey, any extra money and exposure is good at this point.

When I first started the gig, the editor I corresponded with was a bit of a nasty douchebag. I didn’t like his tone with me, but I kept my tongue and managed to do the job.

Lo and behold, one day, I received an email informing the freelance staff that that editor was no longer with the company (my first clue something was unstable and amiss at this company). However, his replacement was much nicer and easier to work with and I did several more articles for him.

This past Thursday, I had been expecting payment for two articles I had written to be posted to my bank account. I checked in the afternoon, and no money had arrived. So I dashed off an email to the editor, informing him of the situation. He said to wait until the end of day.

Log on to my bank account Friday morning. Still no money had been transferred to my account. Dashed off another email. No response…until….

Later that afternoon, I received an email from the head of the company. In it, he detailed how the company was in such dire straits that the bank refused to forward money for payroll. Rut roh. This doesn’t sound good.

Then came the real kicker. The financial situation had sunk so low that the he had to “release” (yet another mind-numbing euphemism for “laid off” that makes it sound even worse) all the freelance staff plus some full-time employees, about 40-some workers in all got the steel-toed boot — with no pay!

Since this was a freelance gig, I wasn’t as upset about being laid off as I was when I was kicked to the curb at two previous full-time jobs. At least I was spared the soul-crushing humiliation of having to clean out my desk and do The Walk of Shame all laid-off workers endure as they shuffle past slack-jawed former colleagues who feign sympathy but who are really thinking, Whew! Better her than me! What a loser! I still have a job. So there was that.

Or perhaps I've grown a thick layer of scar tissue from repeated layoffs. It can't hurt me anymore. Whatev.

And freelancing jobs, as I have come to learn, come and go. It’s inherently unsteady. I’ve come to understand that. The money I lost out on was not a huge amount — others, I’m sure, lost much more. But, dammit, I was counting on it to buy groceries.

More than the lost wages, there were several aspects of this disheartening turn of events that made me a bit angry and bitter.

First, the whole focus of this website was on job creation and employment news. The stories I wrote, as were many others, centered on job-boosting projects or programs to help people get back to work. Yes, you read correctly, dear readers, a website devoted to spreading the good news about employment creation laid off a good chunk of its staff.

Oh, the irony, the irony….

In his email, the head of the company was oh-so contrite. He felt soooo bad about this. Not as bad as we do, bub.

His sole reason for starting this website — cue the soft sobs in the background — was because he believes so strongly (cough, sob) that everyone has the right to work (sniffle, sniffle). Except, apparently, the people who work for him. We don’t deserve a job or a final paycheck. 

He boohooed he will try to get us what he owes us. I’ll believe it when I see the money wired to my account. Until then, I don’t believe a word of what he said. His insincere protestations and phony sympathy mean nothing to those of us who no longer have a job or payment due to his miscalculations and blundering business decisions. How did it come to this? In an attempt to ramp up the website, did he over-extend only to fall short as the weeks and months ran on without hitting the revenue projections he optimistically put forth to the bank? Did he not research how deep the market and all-important page view estimates would be for this website? How strong was the competition? Would advertisers buy in? He should have known all of that before he launched his grand scheme. Perhaps if he had, it wouldn’t have crashed and burned.

Nevertheless, I’ll file this under lessons learned. For this is the second time I succumbed to the siren call of a start-up. Last year, I reported and wrote several long, time-consuming features for a start-up website. Per the contract, payment was to be based on page views. Okay, I thought, I’ll give it a try.

Stories were written and posted. Months passed. No payment. Not a red cent. Bupkis. When I inquired, politely, about payment, I was given the usual blather about how wonderful my work was, but there was no money to pay any of the freelancers at this time. A month ago, I submitted my final story and told the editor I could do no more without payment. She understood, and hinted she had not received payment either.

More recently, I applied for a job at start-up website on women’s issues (when will I ever learn?). I spoke to the creator, who assured me that the no-pay period would only be a few weeks. Then, advertising dollars would miraculously rain down from Heaven and all will be wonderful…Uh huh.

During a phone chat, I related my experience with the previous start-up website that has yet to pay me. She understood I'd been "burned (I'll say!). As much as the job appealed to me, I simply cannot take another chance working for no pay.

So, as a job seeker, should you apply and take a job with a start-up? I would be wary, very wary. As the term implies, start-ups are just starting up; there is no promise the company will succeed in the long run. In today’s short-attention-span world, a new company or website can burn viral hot one day and deathly cold the next. It’s a risky business. Not saying an entrepreneur shouldn't take a chance, but start-ups by their very nature come laden with risks. Established companies can fail, but there is a track record and stability that scaffold them in down times. So, are you sure you want to hook your financial future on a precarious start-up venture?

In the crazy start-up world, what happens when the venture capital runs out and revenues cannot support the business? As my recent experience indicates, post-financial crisis, banks have little patience to prop up a money-draining business, no matter how lofty of intentions or technology-driven it is.

And can you really trust the brainchilds behind these start-ups? These hyped-up-on-their-own-awesomeness Millennials think they are so great they can never fail. Or if they do, somebody (Mommy, Daddy, Kickstarter) will come to their rescue. Doesn’t work that way in the real world. And really, most off these start-up ideas are the narcissistic sprouts of an over-privileged all-white generation that has no clue how the rest of the world lives outside of their entitled bubble. Is the start-up idea sustainable in the long run? Will it appeal to a broad audience, or just your craft-beer-guzzling buddies? Just because they are tech wizards doesn’t mean their freakin’ awesome app will make them the millionaires they believe they should be. For every Uber, there are hundreds of failed start-ups (and laid-off employees). But don’t tell them that.

And on what friggin’ planet is it considered acceptable to NOT pay people for their work?

So, yeah, you can go work for a start-up. Me? Pfff…Been there, done that. I'm done.