Throughout this ordeal of prolonged underemployment, I have
tried to remain pragmatic but positive, knowing full well that the job market is
tight, that it is trending more heavily toward freelance work, which I neither
trust as stable, nor want to continue for any significant length of time. Never
in my adult life have I desired to be self-employed.
Never. Not once.
I was thrust into it by necessity and through no fault of my
own: I did not choose to quit a good job, nor did I choose to do something to
get me fired. I was laid off.
I have neither the desire nor the skill to run my own
business, nor do I want to do so. I take not even the slightest joy in doing so, and,
in fact, I am not certain I can find a word the even comes close to describing
the depth of my loathing and hatred for having to do so. I am not a pitchman
for the product I sell because, quite frankly, there does not seem to be a lot
of demand for my skills and knowledge. Yet at the moment, it is my lot in life
to make a living in this way, and I am failing miserably.
I am not expressing self-pity. This is an honest
self-assessment from a husband and father who knows what he earns is not paying
the bills, and from a journalist, a writer, an editor who loves his craft. That
love, which includes a passion for community journalism, as well as my
appreciation for Mike Bailey and the gang at BocaJump,
and the northwest suburban Patch.com crew, are some of the keys that have been helping
me hold it together.
Perhaps it is a good thing, at the moment, that I am not a
very good pitchman. For the past several weeks, I have been chasing leads that have
not panned out or, alternatively, I have been dealing with canceled appointments
and waiting for phone calls or emails that are not returned for stories I know are
there.
I also have been taking classes since January with the goal of
obtaining certification in a software suite that is important for website
design and development. As I approach my final month of training, I feel
apprehensive, knowing I have five tests ahead of me and that I have had little
time to practice.
The U.S. Postal Service is not helping my cause at all,
either: The student version of the Adobe software I ordered should have been in
my hands within the first few days of April. But the Postal Service lost it,
and the company I ordered from won’t ship me a new set until the package is returned.
Nearly a full month has slipped by while the software package sat in a bin or
on a shelf somewhere in Chicago. Two redelivery requests went unheeded,
probably, I was told, because they could not find the package. But on Friday, the
tracking number for it finally showed movement, as the software presumably moved
from Chicago to Des Moines, Iowa, before bouncing to Franklin Park and then
back to Des Moines. I’m not quite sure what to make of that except that it
seems ominous — the company I ordered it from, and the place where the package
originated, is in Texas. I suppose it could end up anywhere at this point.
Perhaps it will end up near my niece in Alaska.
During this period of new software training, I have slowed
down in my job search — something I actually was encouraged to do at the outset
so I would focus on the training. Instead of sending out resumes for five or
more jobs a week, I’ve become more selective, choosing only those positions
that seem to be the best match for my skills, my background. But I’ve also tried
to be flexible, sending out resumes to employers looking for content writers or
editors outside of journalism, copywriters. My heart’s desire, however, is to remain
in the news industry.
To this point, staying positive, being able to find humor
and ultimately falling back on my faith has helped stave off the black dog that
has hounded me through this trial. I’ve held onto the glass half-full approach,
too, because I want to be an encouragement to those who read my work from time
to time. While I often write about the industry, one of the driving motivations
behind my starting this blog was to let others know they are not alone in the
emotional turmoil that accompanies a layoff. By sharing my thoughts, my
feelings, my hopes and my fears, I sought to help others understand these are fairly
normal aspects of this kind of life change.
So I’ve tried to be utterly open and honest in this blog,
touching not only on the high points, because there have been those, but also, at
times, on discouragement and depression, because to ignore the negative would
be deceptive.
Over the past month, I’ve plumbed new depths of
discouragement; larger and darker, the black dog has waited eagerly, its wagging
tail signaling its joy, not mine.
So here is another tip for those in straits similar to mine:
Find a support system you can rely upon and trust personally and completely.
I’ve heard how important this is but in recent months I have come to understand it
is something I have lacked. What should be my closest personal relationship on
this earth is all but dead; there is love, for my part, but no comfort or
counsel there.
The friends I most trust are scattered across the country; that
distance is a handicap, as is not seeing them regularly. Instead of getting a
daily sampling of Ted as his mood and tone vary from week to week, I find
myself reluctant to write for fear I'll become a black hole to them, sucking the
life out of them because of my spiritual and emotional need. I’d rather they
get a more well-rounded (I’d say balanced, but these friends might just
disagree) sampling of Ted.
Thiiiisssss much Schnelly!!!! ;)
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