I am unemployed. As of today, it will have been exactly 210 days since I last worked. This is my story. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
It all started a few weeks before Halloween. One of my job responsibilities was doing security awareness training programs for different hospitals and clinics around the state. Someone would request a training session or have one requested for them after a breach, I’d pay them a visit, we’d chat about security, and everyone left a little smarter and a little more cautious about their data. The process was pretty straightforward: I’d get the request, myself and the host would confirm the date and time, and the host would send a calendar invite with the date, time, and contact information. For three years, I travelled from one end of the state to the other. I got up at the break of dawn and worked late into the night, depending on the clinic’s schedule, and did it with a smile. For three years, I never missed a meeting. And then I did.
The client was a new hospital that had just been purchased and added to the system. The meeting was a pretty straightforward meet and greet, assessing their systems, and go home kind of deal, the same kind of meeting I had done dozens of times before. The client and I exchanged emails and confirmed a date and time, but the calendar invite never showed. This had been scheduled weeks in advance, so it slipped my mind as I worked on other tasks. It’s my own damn fault for not following up; if I had realized I never got the invite, I might have avoided this whole mess. Instead, it slipped through the cracks.
The day of the meeting, I had been working all morning and stepped out to grab a quick bite to eat. I got a call from my manager while I was out, and he asked me what was going on with the meeting; the client had called him and asked where I was. I had checked my calendar that day, there was nothing on it, so I was a little confused. I raced back to the office, called the client, and discovered the unsent invite. We rescheduled for the next day. I got up early, drove to the hospital, did the presentation, and came back to the office. I filled my boss in on what had happened, and he seemed perfectly okay with it; no harm, no foul.
A couple of weeks after that, during my bi-weekly status meeting, he told me that I was being placed on a Corrective Action Plan for missing this meeting. Now, the stated purpose of a CAP is to address an issue with an employee so they can improve their performance. In reality, it’s creating a paper trail for termination. CAP’s were punitive; once you had been “CAPped” (the unofficial office term), you were barred from getting a raise and promotion for one calendar year, and you couldn’t transfer to another team. Naturally, I fought it. I told my manager, in an email copied to my director (who was also my former manager) that he hadn’t raised it as an issue at the time of the incident, it had been remediated immediately, the client wasn’t high risk, and that a CAP was going to severely impede my professional development. I never heard anything about it again, until the day I was fired.
I remember the day I got fired rather vividly. I had lunch with a now former co-worker, where we both complained about our respective jobs; overworked, underpaid, the usual. We went back to the office, and I started prepping for my weekly status update meeting with my manager. When the time came, I gathered my notes, ready to lay out my plan for the rest of the year. It was the week after Thanksgiving. When it was time for the meeting, I went to my manager’s office. The door was open, but no one was home. I went back to my desk and checked his schedule; he had double booked our meeting for something labelled “Private Appointment”. Figuring it was something personal, I figured he’d come get me when he was ready. A bit later he came by, and he said we were moving to the bigger conference room next door to his office. This immediately set off big warning bells in my head. See, I’ve been fired before, and it always starts with either an impromptu meeting or an unanticipated change in venue to something holding more than two people.
I walked in, and there was another guy in the room I didn’t recognize. I was pretty familiar with the department’s regular HR staff, so as soon as there was some guy that I didn’t recognize in a closed door meeting with me and my manager, I knew for sure something was up. We sat down, and he told me that the company was letting me go. I had been fired. The rest of it was pretty standard HR stuff; turn in your badge, clean out your desk, don’t touch your laptop or talk to anyone. Here’s your benefits, COBRA information, phone numbers to call, that kind of thing. What I remember most was the way my manager was shaking. The last time I was fired, my manager was sad, genuinely sorry that it had gotten to this point. This time, my manager was afraid. I honestly felt bad for him. I mean, he was afraid of me and what I might do. If you’re afraid of me, especially in a situation like that, then you don’t know me at all.
I took notes, asked questions, made sure I wasn’t getting shafted, then thanked my manager for the opportunity and wished him the best. I went back to my desk, where the entire area had been cleared of my co-workers, grabbed the few personal things I kept at my desk, and left.
I walked to my car, exhaled deeply, turned up the party mix on my iPod, and set out for home. After I got home, I shucked out of my button-down and slacks, threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and started planning. I didn’t know how long I’d be unemployed, but I knew I had one more full paycheck, a big PTO payout (I had accrued the max saved PTO time of 300 hours over three years; I got 24 days off a year including holidays, which meant I took on average 3 non-holiday days off a year), a deferred compensation plan, and the max amount of unemployment insurance. I stretched my monthly budget out, including incidentals, and figured that I’d run out of money sometime in the late fall or winter, but even then I’d still at least have an income. I immediately applied for unemployment benefits, then went downstairs and filled my roommates in.
Truth be told, I think I slept better that night than I had in months. I hated my job. More accurately, I hated the fact that I was trapped in my job. Compensation had been an issue since I received the offer letter; it was way below industry standards, but when I took it I was in a tough spot financially and it was the only offer on the table. It was even worse after I finished and received my CISA, which is kind of a big deal in my industry. It usually comes with a raise and a promotion. I received neither. The year prior, I had gotten an offer for significantly more than I was making, and very seriously considered it. Ultimately, I was given a verbal promise that if I could wait a few months for the performance review cycle, my manager could do something for me then. I didn’t really want to leave, so I stayed. My performance review came, and despite a good review there was no promotion and no raise. Not enough headcount, no room in the budget. But maybe they’d be able to do something for me next year. That was when I knew it was time for me to go.
So, I started interviewing elsewhere. My best opportunity came in the summer, when a major national public accounting firm expressed an interest, brought me in, and told me afterwards I wowed them with my interview. They wanted to contact my former managers, so I provided them with their information. I reached out to my former managers and let them know they’d be getting a phone call or email from the recruiter. Three weeks went by, and I hadn’t heard anything. I called the recruiter to find out what was going on, and she told me that one of my managers had never responded to their request for information. Her non-response was assumed to indicate something bad, so because of that I was no longer being considered for the position. I don’t often get really excited about a job opportunity, but this was like being in Triple-A and then getting called up to the Big Show. To not get it because someone else screwed up? That one hurt.
I never really “decompressed”. I was all over the job boards and networking like crazy the day after I was fired. I called every contact I had, talked to everyone who had some pull, all while fielding emails and texts from shocked now former co-workers. Believe it or not, I was well liked in the office. I kept that up for three weeks, knowing that as soon as it got close to Christmas everyone would shut down for the holidays, and I’d be out of luck until mid-January. I got a few calls, scheduled some interviews for after the holidays, got approved for unemployment insurance benefits, and took a little trip up to Chicago to clear my head and have a little fun.
After the holidays, I started fielding phone calls and emails for interviews. I was juggling four or five companies at a time. One would drop out, another would join in. I got called up to Chicago to interview for my dream job. A big building, right on Millennium Park, renowned for their risk management practice, working with a software product that had been my major project to implement for the last year and half. If the job from the summer before had been like being called up to the big leagues, this was like being asked to start for the Yankees on Opening Day. I polished the black cap-toe leather shoes I only wear to interviews to a mirror shine the night before, made sure my suit and shirt were crisp and clean and my tie was perfect, and drove the four hours from Indianapolis to Chicago. I was there two hours early, just to make sure. I was excited and enthusiastic. Everything was perfect. I thought I nailed the interview.
A week goes by. Then two, then three. I finally called the recruiter, who told me they decided to go in a different direction. I was crushed. If getting the job was like being asked to start for the Yankees on Opening Day, then not getting it was like blowing out your knee in Spring Training and being told you’ll never play again.
I kept up my torrid pace of interviews and networking, knowing that the longer I was out, the harder it would be to find something. I’d have two or three interviews scheduled in a single day. On more than one occasion, I fielded a request from the bathroom.
It wasn’t until late February that I got the letter in the mail. My former employer was challenging my unemployment insurance benefits. I’d collected benefits before, but never had them challenged. I mean, I was fired. I didn’t quit and I didn’t engage in anything that could be considered negligent. Nonetheless, I recruited two friends, who had both recently taken and passed the bar, to help me plan my defense. Over a few nights of pizza and beer we hashed it out and came up with something good, or so I thought.
Finally, the big day. March 6th, my 29th birthday. The fifth anniversary of my best friend’s death. I was up early; showered, caffeinated, and ready. The Administrative Law Judge’s office called me, and we got down to business. My former manager was on the call, and we both explained what had happened. She asked us a few questions, thanked us for our time, and hung up. I went to lunch with my mom and sister, and I figured that I’d get a note in the mail in a few weeks saying I had won, and that would be that.
A few weeks later, I was getting ready to head out to a local bar to meet some friends for the Indiana vs. Michigan basketball game. I checked the mail as I was leaving, and the Department of Workforce Development letter was inside. I opened and read it. The ALJ said “Claimant’s poor performance showed carelessness or negligence to such a degree as to cause damage to Employer’s interests.” and cited a bunch of cases I had never heard of, including Cheatem v. Review Bd. of Indiana Dep’t of Employment & Training Servs., which frankly still sounds made up. The ALJ had overturned my unemployment benefits. My stomach tied itself in knots. I couldn’t eat and couldn’t drink during the game. For the first time in the four months I had been unemployed, I felt panic.
I roped in the same group that had helped me with my defense to help me draft an appeal. I sent it in. A few weeks after that, the Review Board ruled that there were no further findings of fact, and the ALJ’s ruling would stand. Now, I felt fear.
The deferred compensation plan had been my ace in the hole. It was a large lump sum I could cash out quickly if I needed it. I’d take a tax hit for it, but I’d rather deal with the wrath of my accountant than be evicted or starve. By mid-May, I had less than a hundred dollars cash on hand. I made the call, and cashed it in. Once I did that, I knew that things had gotten real. They were real before, but this was plan B and there was no plan C. It was either find a job before the deferred compensation cash ran out, or else.
While all this was going on, the steady stream of interviews had slowed to a trickle. Fewer postings, fewer interviews. I expanded my search, looking for anything related to my field. I talked to anyone that would listen, that might have an opportunity.
Depression runs in my family. My dad was an undiagnosed clinical depressive for basically my entire childhood. It wasn’t until my parents divorced that he worked through it. I struggled with it as a teenager, through college, and into adulthood. When the trickle of interviews slowed to intermittent droplets, I felt the cold embrace of that old enemy again. My sleep schedule turned upside down; I forced myself to get up at 10AM, despite being up until 4 or 5AM the night before. I took shelter in video games. I finally levelled by Barbarian in Diablo 3 to Level 60. I did two or three complete playthroughs of the Mass Effect Trilogy. I played a bunch of games I had been sitting on. The endorphin rush from beating a game or levelling up or getting any kind of achievement kept my head above water. I read a bunch of books. I painted, made some household repairs, did yard work, anything to kill time.
Really though, that’s all I was doing: killing time. When you’re working a full-time job, you wish you had more time. An extra hour in the morning to sleep in. A few hours in the evening to make dinner, hang out with friends, or just relax. When you’re unemployed, all you have is time. It would be a blessing, except that you don’t have any money, so you end up wasting it. You find projects that will take hours or days to finish, but you don’t mind because time is all you’ve got an abundance of.
I don’t know who first coined the term “funemployment,” but I’m pretty sure they were either never unemployed themselves or being extremely sarcastic. In either case, it’s clear that the special hell that is unemployment was utterly lost on either them or their audience. Sure, in concept it sounds great. I get to stay up late, play video games till my eyes bleed, I can go weeks without shaving, and I never have to wear “business casual” anything. Of course, being robbed of identity, purpose, responsibility, personal worth, future growth opportunities, experience, income, and everything else that comes along with being gainfully employed makes for a very, very unequal trade-off. I’d rather spend my entire life working in a job I hated then spend a single week unemployed.
A big part of what makes job hunting so miserable is dealing with the recruitment process. To date, out of the 20 or so companies I’ve dealt with, at least half are still technically “unresolved,” as even though weeks or months have passed since my last contact with them, I have yet to receive an official rejection. I had one company bring me in for an interview for a consulting position, swear up and down that they only hired people when they had a need for them to fulfill already signed contracts, then tell me a week later the contract was cancelled and I was S.O.L. Another company had the hiring manager go on vacation for three weeks in the middle of the interview process. Probably the “best” I’ve seen so far is the company that turned me down for an offer, which was followed by me seeing the hiring manager’s job posted on one of the job search websites I used. When it comes to recruitment, candidates are dehumanized then discarded when deemed defective by the process.
The only luxury I’ve really allowed myself was not telling anyone I didn’t have to that I was unemployed. I’ve lied to the faces of my closest friends and family and told them I was still working, just looking for something new. I’ve shared my struggles with finding something, and they’ve been empathetic. It’s a refreshing change, to be honest. People get judgey when you’re unemployed; not so much when you’re just looking for another job.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your point of view, that particular luxury is something I can no longer afford. In a little under a month and a half, I will have exhausted all of my financial resources. At the age of 29, I will be broke and unemployed, with no savings, no retirement, no assets, and a ton of bills. So, tomorrow I tell my mom and my sister and my family’s financial advisor the truth, and hope that they can help. If not, I don’t know what’s next. As I’ve said, I’ve been through this before. The difference between then and now was that then, at least I had hope.
This is my story. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
As of today, it will have been exactly 210 days since I last worked. I am unemployed. And I am afraid.
