Week 4 of unemployment

"I want to say one word to you. Just one word.
Yes, sir.
Are you listening?
Yes, I am.
Plastics. There's a great future in plastics. Think about it. Will you think about it?"

One unwritten benefit of unemployment: Catching up on movies that I should have already seen. I've started looking for hints as to what I should do next everywhere I turn. Maybe I should think about plastics.
Or not.
I don't know. I'm probably just as confused as Benjamin, but like to think that I'm not as slack jawed about it. Have I thought about graduate school? Yep. Have I done anything about it? Nope. Now, where did I put that scuba suit?

Took a break, but not broken

Ah vacation.
I've been going here and there for the last month, which is partly why I haven't been updating. No access to Mr. Internet.
But I was keeping the chronicle going - typing and writing and what not. So, I'm going to post some of the things I wrote and post date them.

Day 12

Day twelve of unemployment:

Taking a break for now. Prepping for vacation, actual, not the permanent vacation that I've made up a little song about.

Back next week.

Day 11

Day eleven of unemployment part II:

What is it with laundromats?
I approached $1 wash day at one of the laundry places in town and could hear a screeching spider monkey child before I even walked through the doors. Pleasant.
The Jerry Springer was turned up so loud that the TV speakers vibrated with effort on the high notes and excessive bleeps. When I looked up, a woman consisting of only a torso, head and arms ambles across the stage and there are puppets chiding people on stage. A man from the audience, girthy, large, flashes the crowd and says something like he's a buffet. He proceeds to go on stage and writhes around a stripper pole while removing his polo shirt. He's my dad's age and I'm embarrassed for him.
As I silently judged those around me, I thought, really? Without a hint of irony you're watching this? More screeching child. A woman talking about the man who knocked her tooth out. The employee gabbing on the phone, saying oh honey repeatedly.
Apparently this is what happens during the day when I would normally be at work or doing other work-related things. I go outside and eat licorice and read about "The Last Days of Dogtown" while thinking, aren't I living them right now?
I start to take my things out of the washers to transfer them to the heated drums. A woman who looks normal enough starts looking for washers. I point out the empty ones in front of me. Oh thanks, she says. As I'm thinking she's like me, I've found a like-minded person here, she sticks her head in the washers and sniffs. She does a double sniff on one and decides to pass.
"I have to smell them," she says. "I know it probably looks weird. But sometimes they have that rank musty water smell and I don't want that on my stuff."
It makes sense I tell her.
By the time I'm at the dryers, Maury Povich is on. It's makeover day. I can never resist the makeovers, even though it's clear the people they've chosen are incredible beautiful despite their ratted hair and torn t-shirts.
When I'm just about done with folding, the first reveal is made. I'm a little sad that I'll never know what the "please make me over" contestants will look like in the end. I think maybe I'll turn it on when I get home, just for closure.
Then I realize, nah, that's got to be on a channel I just don't get.

Day 11

Day eleven of unemployment:

List of to do's today:
- get laundry detergent
- do laundry
- check web sites for job updates
- Google how much of a cut pimps take out of earnings
- wash hair

Day 10

Day 10 of unemployment:

I still find it hard to type unemployment. Not because of shallowly seated psychological issues, but because of the sequence of letters. Perhaps this will improve.
I went to Michigan Works today. Ugggggg. Holy strip mall hell. There was nothing awful about it, but nothing good either. It was entirely mediocre. I'd already filled out all the drack online but was told I had to do it again, in blue or black ink.
Seriously? What's the point?
Oh, right, it all comes down to money. The employee on the computer diagonal from me was struggling. She was so not helpful to the lady who actually needed help. But she has a job and I don't...
Everything has been faxed and copied and entered into the necessary slots.
Today was the first day I went back to my employers. I had to drop off some statistics to go along with the freelance story I turned in last week.
When I pulled up, an ex-coworker was leaving the building. He was a little ways away. I was about to call out to him, but decided against it at the last minute. I'm not sure why.
The front desk lady, who I always like, immediately makes the face when I walk in. I jokingly call out, "security..." She doesn't find it funny and asks, "how ya doin' kiddo?"
My "just fine" sounds a little unbelievable, even though it's true. We chat for awhile. I ask if she can send up the papers because the thought of seeing all of the ex-coworkers on the other side of the little swinging door is a little much. And I wonder about my desk. If it's all cleaned off and sterile, it would make me sad.

Day 9

Day nine of unemployment:

I got up extra early and decided to read. I'm reading the Wonder Spot by Melissa Bank. I feel it's taken some of my very own thoughts and it makes me sad that I didn't write it first.

Today is Sunday in all it's glory. Gloomy and listless. Somewhere roast beef is being made. As it turns out, it's at my parents. I go for dinner and everyone seems to be all snotty. I mention to my mom that we'll probably be moving. She says oh well.
One of the nephews was all whiny while another one scissor kicked me in the belly when I went to pick him up.
At least I don't have to get up early in the morning, I think to myself. I prepare my unemployment papers before I go to bed. They're doing an investigation over my claim. Apparently, it's standard procedure, and I'm told it takes 3-5 weeks before it goes through. Great. Does that mean I can pay rent and utilities with IOUs pending the outcome?

Day 8

Day eight of unemployment:

I'm having trouble sleeping. I fall asleep okay, but in the mornings, when I used to be using up all this energy, getting a newspaper out and eating a well-balanced breakfast of fury and adrenaline while trying to fast talk some sources - I lay there, feeling aches in my shoulders and the restlessness of my legs.

Day 7

Day seven of unemployment:
It's been one week, I think at some point today. I'm not really affected. I've seen friends I haven't seen in years. I've laughed and been more relaxed in the last few days than I have in the last few years. I was totally due for some time off. Since this time off doesn't seem to have an end, I've dubbed it: permanent vacation.
This makes my loved ones leery. But the car payments and health insurance, they say, with eyes that are untrusting. Don't worry about it - it'll get paid I tell them. They remain nervous.
And then, my friend drags me to our high school. I haven't been back there since graduation, 12 years ago.
She's a teacher and wants to pay some respects. Since I have nothing better going on, I concede. When they ask what I do, respond with, I'm a journalist. I've never called myself this before and the journalist part of me balks because it's inaccurate. Right now, I'm not really anything.
But, can a journalist ever really be unemployed? Story ideas still swarm my brain. I can't turn it off, despite the flip flops and the disheveled hair.

Day 6

Day six of unemployment:

Just write the damn story. How many times have I told myself this? Enough. I think my reluctance is passive-aggressive snark trapped inside. I don't want to write it. I don't want to do anything that would boost my ex-employer. But like in a break up where you're pretending to be friends in order for personal gain (like maybe you want to date his best friend, or cousin or something and don't want to come off as vindictive or rattled) I feel compelled to turn something in. I will need those references at some point.
I finally write the story. I can't help myself: it's good. Not wonderful, but good considering the situation.
Later, I have lunch with my work friend. She says there's a little bit of a gloom over the newsroom and especially downstairs. During the meeting on Monday, she says, the other reporters are stunningly quiet. Probably, I say, just relieved it wasn't them. I want things to go wrong because I'm not there. I want my loss to be felt. I feel like a ghost considering a haunting.

Off to hang out with the friend in town. We will make owls and eat coney dogs.

Day 5

Day five of unemployment:

The timing of this unemployment deal actually couldn't be better. Aside from my friend coming into town for the next 5 days, I leave on vacation in little over a week. Luckily it's all been paid for already. The weather has been spectacular. I figure this is my consolation from the universe. Yep, you ain't got no job, but it's warm out, the friend is arriving, and the vacation looms.

The downside: I'm so broke it's like a dooming bell tolling of my future.
Since I'm in financial need, I decided to take up my previous employer on the option of freelancing a few stories. Some things don't change I suppose. Here I sit procrastinating, awash in nervousness, knowing that this story I'm trying to get done will never be as good as I want it to be. It's weird having to dust off that part of my brain and it's only been three days.

Day 4

Day four of unemployment:

Today I will be productive. Today I will send in applications to ambitious jobs. Today I will venture out to cafes and type and sip and look radiant in a linen dress. Today I will catch up and begin writing the things I should have been writing all along. Today I will figure out where I've been for the last 3 years.
Instead I get drawn into four IM conversations that require me to respond rapidly, lest anyone think I'm sullen or depressed. Everyone asks, "what happened?"
My work friend calls and I end up talking to her and filling her in on the last few days. We talk of a coworker who also got chopped the same week I did. Except, she wrote a blog for the newspaper's website and on it, decided to post about being laid off. It was rapidly removed, but since I have the cache of it, I was able to find it.
Scandalous! Actually it was fairly mild, considering what it could have been. It makes me feel slightly vindicated. I feel like people should know that we've been let go, that their trusty community paper is different now.
The woman two tables over looks at me scornfully when I hang up. I stare scornfully back - I no longer am a representative of the newspaper.

Day 3

Day three of unemployment:

Today is the day. I sleep past my normal 6:30 a.m. wake up call and feel the relief of not having to get up. I can't help but smile to myself. Yeah, I'm unemployed, but I'm also wearing flip flops and a tattered t-shirt. The lake (Erie) is all glisteny and I actually have time to enjoy it.
Right now, I think to myself, only slightly nostalgic, my compadres are scrambling to get out a paper. Right now, they're in a meeting hearing about the cuts that were made last week and grumbling to themselves as the leadership assures those left that the company will rebound.

I file for unemployment. It's fine. Somewhat simple process. But since I was technically let go instead of laid off, there has to be an investigation. My panic is at low-level simmer. What if it doesn't go through - the thought lingers.

Day 2

Day two of unemployment:

It's Sunday, so it's still difficult to get my brain around. I have yet to feel the performing-trapeze- acts-without-a-net feeling that I'm anticipating.
I have dinner with my parents. They seem more concerned about the whole situation than I do. They make the face. I'm getting used to it. Actually, only my mom makes the face and only once. My dad remains stoic, pragmatic.
I add up the numbers, the dollars I'm supposed to be getting this paycheck, my last paycheck in my head once again over dinner.
I recently did a story on a librarian who was retiring after many, many years in the stacks. Her friend came in when we were finishing up the interview. She said the strangest/nicest thing to have to get used to, the time when you'll really feel the retirement like a little warm bird on your shoulder, is Sunday nights.

Day 1

Day one of unemployment:

I read a book today. An entire book, pretty much in one fell swoop. It's about a woman who is jilted, and she tries to develop a heartbreak pill to stave off the effects of a broken heart. It's a book I feel I should have read by a pool or on the beach. It's fairly mindless, but some of her observations are poignant and they cup my face like a cool palm when I least expect it.
I stole the book off the top of our A&E editor's pile o'freebies. Supposedly she keeps them and puts them, along with all of the free press kit items, in a finders keepers box to be auctioned off at the annual Christmas party, but half of them never make it.
I had it on my desk, just to check it out, but when I found out I wouldn't be returning, I put it in my box with a lid that was provided for my eviction. I also scandalously took a stack of purple, micro-post its. Revenge was mine.
Maybe I'll develop a post-laid off/fired pill.

All this unemployment business

I found out today that I lost my job. Actually, it's not lost - it's in the vast void of other jobs that have gone the way of the buffalo. There it is on the floor there, with a bunch of chopped up numbers and lost limbs.

I was a newspaper reporter for a smallish daily in Southeastern Michigan. My story is not unique, aside from it's happening to me. I thought at my community newspaper we were cushioned somewhat, but was vastly wrong. Financial issues - their's, not mine - were at the heart, I was told.
I will chronicle the experience here at Frictional Unemployment.