Dead End

If you haven't read this column and you're feeling either perky and don't want to stay that way or are depressed and want more fuel for the fire, go check out Unemployment Stories over at Gawker:  http://gawker.com/tag/hello-from-the-underclass

It's an amazing compilation of letters from real Americans without jobs. How they got there, what they're doing and how it has affected them.  I deeply connect with many of the writers and sometimes have angry reactions to others. I even submitted my own letter to them awhile back. It's a grim view inside the carcass of America.

The reason I'm writing this today is that the hammer has finally fallen for me. My unemployment insurance has run out. My savings are dwindling. I just notified my credit card companies and student loan offices that no more money will be forthcoming. I'll be selling my car since I can no longer afford insurance or gas.

It's been 15 months since I was laid off. While I have a huge burning hatred for the owners of the company that laid me off, I don't blame them for my situation since then. There's no one thing or person to blame really. I could blame the government or the economy or corporatism or my parents or myself - but to no useful end.

I've done my best to be responsible since then - financially, socially, emotionally. But there's no doubt that it has taken its toll on all fronts. Intellectually, I find it truly sad. While it's impossible not to take a hit to your ego, to your self-esteem, in a situation like this, what hits me harder is that this entire country is hurting and I'm a resource that's going to waste. I'm a healthy, hard working, intelligent adult. There's no reason that I shouldn't be part of the work force.

Instead, after more than 200 applications to everyone from Microsoft to an adult bookstore, I got this from Target the other day: "Thank you for taking the time to apply with us. We are unable to offer you a position at this time, but we do appreciate your interest in Target." Which sums up everything pretty nicely.

I'm still writing fiction, and I'm happy to say that writing has become a huge part of my life in the last year. I'll probably continue to do it for the rest of my life now. But it's not going to pay the bills, probably ever. Which leads me to the last question:  What do you do when you're out of options?

Fuck Your Cover Letter

With over a year of unemployment under my belt, I've had quite a bit of experience in applying for jobs. I've read the websites, watched the videos, reworked my resume multiple times and even attended the Washington State mandated seminar for the perpetually jobless.
Over this last year, I've learned that most of the time, somewhere around 90%, I get an auto-reply from companies, acknowledging they've received my application. Somewhere around 3% of the time I get either something more personal or an auto-response saying that I've been passed over. Around 1% I get a call or a follow up email or an interview. (Around 6% I just never hear from at all.)

The company I really wanted to work for was Hasbro, specifically, Wizards of the Coast. I somehow actually landed myself an interview with them last year and it was awesome. I didn't get the job and I can live with that. But since then, my enthusiasm has gradually waned. Yes, I want a job. Yes, I want something that feels 'right' and fits me well. More than anything though, I just want to be able to pay my bills and get on with things.

So, when I read a job posting that says: "We are looking for a thoughtful, personalized cover letter that demonstrates your qualifications," my response is, "Fuck you and fuck your cover letter." I'll spend an hour being witty and smart and trying to figure out all the right key words and phrases to make sure you notice my cover letter. I'll hit send. Then I'll get an auto-reply. The end. You know what I won't get? That hour back. Or the countless hours I've spent doing the exact same thing for every other company in this state that I've applied to.

I want to work but, at this point, if my resume isn't enough to get your attention, then you don't deserve me.

End of the Line

     The Fiscal Cliff is looming. Not the one in D.C. No, I'm talking about the real one that so many of us are currently facing. It doesn't really matter how you juggle the numbers or how you define unemployment, there are a lot of us wasting away and watching our futures dwindling.

     Officially, my unemployment benefits end in three days. That's the current deadline for the federal extension.  I was laid off in March. Now, reaching the end of the money that was doing nothing more than keeping me afloat, I'm faced with the real fiscal cliff. What do you do when you have no more money? None. No savings, no checking, no job, nothing.

     I've gone through all of the stages. When you first get laid off you prioritize your spending, cutting out all the unnecessary stuff. You re-work your resume. You contact friends and colleagues and get the word out that you're looking.

     Later, you realize you've slipped into stage two. You aren't just looking for equivalent or better jobs than the one you had. You're willing to take a pay cut, lose benefits, drive farther in your commute, go a few rungs down the ladder. Hey, these are tough times and we all have to make cuts.

     You get a few phone calls, even a couple of interviews. For the most part though it's a long series of auto-replies from companies saying they've received your application. If you're lucky you get a rejection later letting you know that they'll keep your application on file. Don't worry, you'll never hear from them again.

     Eventually, you reach the first emergency stage.  For me, it was when I realized that even with my money management, I could no longer afford my apartment.  I held a woefully unsuccessful garage sale, got rid of everything outside of a laptop, a few irreplaceable's and my clothes. I moved in with my girlfriend. 

     Comparatively flush with cash and stripped of literal and metaphorical baggage I bought myself a new camera, determined to keep myself solvent with various freelance gigs until fate brought me together with my eventual new job.

    Time passed, applications were sent, a few pictures were taken. The holidays came along and the second emergency slowly revealed itself along the horizon.  The end of the benefits means the end of being able to pay my bills. It's not like I have kids or a mortgage, so I'm among the lucky. But as many of us already know, it only takes being one dollar in debt to be bankrupt.

    Starting Wednesday, I'll begin applying to retail and service industry jobs that are either within walking distance or busing distance. Next month will be the last that I can afford my car insurance.  I'll sell my car in order to keep from defaulting on my student loans and credit card debt.

    I'm writing this because, while I've been broke before, I'm a little baffled and slightly amazed at how far off and removed some people seem to be from the effects of the unemployment around them. Most of them here in Seattle are middle to upper-middle class. I think that some of my friends and acquaintances think that because I show up at a party with my girlfriend and a bottle of wine, that I have money to spend on gas or booze. 

     I have friends who fret over what dates they can fly across country or season tickets for sports teams. They have to budget their home renovations or make choices about which vacations they can take this year because they can only do two. I don't think they realize what a short slide it is from them telling me about all of this over a glass of pinot and them ignoring me on the street, walking by them, homeless.

    Some people reading this might scoff, but I've been poor before, I'm poor now and I'll be poor again. There's no scapegoating here, there's no single root cause to all of this. It just is what it is. Of course, it's magnified by the current state of the economy, but make no mistake that the mechanisms of misfortune have been grinding along for ages.

     I have a great deal of confidence in myself. I've always been a fighter, a smart one too. I'm creative, dogged, kind, and am deeply sure that I have a lot to offer this world. My fear isn't in my own failings, I know I'll triumph or go down swinging.  My fear is that I'll go down swinging with nothing to swing at. That my opponents, unemployment, lack of money, lack of an ability to care for myself, are opponents that I cannot hit. They're smoke, illusive and ephemeral and they kill with a thousand tiny cuts.

     I don't want to go out like that.