Staying Relevant
It’s not easy being green. Kermit the Frog sang the song. I always thought it was about his tribulations in not fitting into a black and white world. Green is also a term used for someone who is just starting out in their career, with not much experience.
I’m neither a frog, nor am I green. I’m a soon to be 56–year old woman who has been looking for work, for two and a half years. That’s the summary of this piece for those of you who have short-attention spans.
Between babysitting and packaging items at a health food store, my early labour years nestled into the 8–14 year old bracket. I earned an allowance, I opened my first bank account, I knew how to do laundry at the laundromat, I bought presents with my saved dollars. As far as I was concerned, I was contributing to the family.
When I was 14, I got a job at Kitchen Table. My friend called me to tell me that she was just fired for hitting a customer with a broom, and that the job was vacant. I applied, was hired the same day and worked my first shift that night.
I didn’t think my single-parent family could afford university, so instead of asking, I threw myself into a full-time job at the age of 18. It was years later when my mom asked me why I never wanted to go to university.
My dreams of being an archaeologist, a forensic scientist or a photo-journalist were pushed into the background, as money became the driving force. I moved into my own apartment at 18, ready to face the world head-on. I began with a job in a housing agency and worked there for 6 years. Not having a focus, but more of an agenda to travel whenever I could, I flitted into the world of marketing, telemarketing, and all sorts of jobs that afforded good money and short durations, so I could take off to my next country of choice. During those times, I managed to stay at positions for longer periods of time, when vacation packages were extended to three weeks. I worked for the provincial government, the municipal government, non-profit housing agencies, publishing, university professors, hospitals, temporary agencies, I went where I was needed and where I could learn a lot of skills. I met some amazing people along the way and am still in communication with a lot of them.
Zoom forward three decades and a bit, and here I am, trying to stay relevant, find a job, and pay my rent. I’m not whining, just opining. I was on welfare for one month, once upon a time. I’ve been on EI a few times, been fired once (I think we all need to go through that character adjustment), been made redundant, laid off, and now unemployed. I feel like some rare vehicle, going from $84,000 a year to $0. It has been enlightening to see where my money went, the decisions I made, both bad and good, and just how much one needs to live a decent life. I have been a property owner, twice and now I rent. My savings are almost all gone. I never thought I would be at this stage of my life, worried for my future, uncertain of my next steps. I have always been independent and am not good at asking for help. Not sure if that comes from growing up in a single-parent household. We didn’t complain, we just got things done.
I’ve had experts and friends vet my résumé and I’ve adjusted it so many times, that when I heard the algorithm of computers had changed so that two spaces after a period automatically deleted applications, I didn’t think it could get any worse. It did. It has.
My friends know me as an optimist. They like my sense of humour, my writing, the way I tell stories, my experimental cooking (which almost always works out), my design sense, my listening skills, my mostly good advice and the fact that I seem to have a positive outlook on life. What they don’t know, is that I’ve been desperately miserable in trying to find a job. I made the mistake of scoffing at people who said they had been unemployed for a year. What the hell is wrong with them? I thought. And now I wonder, what the hell is wrong with me?
I love working. I don’t have a specific work skill-set, suffice to say, administration is where I hang out. So, after my last job, I thought I would have no problem finding another one. Then my aunt asked for my help in downsizing, moving her to a retirement home and getting her settled. She paid me for my trouble. Some of that time was spent on reviewing dreams I had set aside, when the real world creeped in. A second childhood as it were. The thing is, it doesn’t matter that one has time on their hands, if you don’t feel secure, no amount of time helps the fear that gnaws at your insides.
At the start of 2020, I revamped my résumé, checked out all the employment sites and starting sending applications in, tailor-making covering letters with bon mots and descriptive ‘look what I can do for you’ forays. Like some warped script, Covid-19 entered stage right and all activity ceased. I was caught in the eye of the storm, cases swirling around me and everything dead in the centre.
Selling things on Facebook became a go to for bringing in money. Despite having designer duds for Poshmark, I was never able to crack into the veneer that surrounds this site. I loved writing fun ads for my items. One item, a set of fondue forks, garnered over 800 views, because I called them the ultimate social distancing tools. Never did sell them. People started to reply to me that they didn’t want to buy anything, but that I had made them laugh.
It’s an onerous task to bring levity into the world. I’ve never shirked from this duty. I was a class clown (ironically, clowns creep me out), but I always manage to bring humour to a situation. I know that if I’m hanging off a cliff, I will make a remark that I shouldn’t have cut my nails.
LinkedIn is touted as the place to network and find jobs. All I see are articles from my connections, talking about morale and how great it is to work for a good company, etc., and while informative, it does nothing to help or assist those of us out there, looking to bring in income. Networking elicited ‘there there’s’ but no concrete leads. Not all the job adverts are bonafide, either. It only took one to make me realize I had to research the hell out of a company, before applying. When I first applied for jobs, it was focused on administration and managerial positions. Now it’s all over the employment map and no response. That’s the worst part. It’s like lost socks. You know you put them into the dryer, but you never know if you’ll ever get them back. Only recently I received a response from a publishing house, here’s looking at you HarperCollins. A response is a beautiful thing and even if it never goes anywhere, the hope of an interview can buoy one’s spirit for a long time.
We’ve become such an insulated society. Unless you’ve been through unemployment, you can’t speak to the feeling. Those articles suggesting what one needs to do, without knowing what we face, are not helpful. I expected to work well into my 70s, but not finding a job in one’s 50s… I never bargained for that.
Recently I signed up with an employment agency to go over my résumé and help me get my size 11 foot in the door (sans clown shoe). For the first time, in a long time, I’m hopeful, and hopefully, staying relevant.
