The Light At The End

THIS ONE WILL GO LONG. Kind of like the last forever and an age for me. Some of this you will have heard before. That, too, is intentional. I have been on a mental treadmill for the better part of a year, and for a while there it looked as if it was a treadmill to nowhere. I am happy to report that is not the case.
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There is nothing more demoralizing than losing a job. Unless it's trying to find another.

Very few people make it through their lives with only one employer anymore, so it's fair to say that my readers have lived this experience. If you're good and lucky, or lucky and good, your unemployment period is measured in days: headhunters employ job nets and honcho harpoons to snag you from one job into another. Eva still gets inquiries from headhunters, more than thirty months after she left a toxic (but high-powered) environment for a very good one.

If you are unlucky, or ungood...

The day before I was laid off -- ask my wife, this is true -- I told her that I was afraid something was coming down the pike and that my job was in danger. I had no reason to think this: my direct boss had announced, days before, that my focus was about to shift from dairy and frozen to dry grocery, and we had discussed the ramifications for myself and for the team. The store manager was on holidays, so I couldn't have picked up any vibes from him. Nevertheless, that Sunday I had one of those shifts we all have from time to time that temporarily put a damper on your enthusiasm for the job, let's put it that way. Except this went a little beyond that. Something didn't feel right and I couldn't say what or why.
Monday morning I attended two managerial meetings--not usually my purview. The first was the standard morning huddle to discuss store conditions and priorities for the day, and review results for the week the manager had missed. The second was a snap meeting to let us know that one store in our district was flipping to our discount banner and another was shutting outright.
I've been through store closings before...what tends to happen is anything that can't sell gets distributed to all the other stores in the district, and it's a right royal pain to deal with: if it couldn't sell in one store, it's unlikely to suddenly sell in another store with a smaller back room. So, like an idiot, I asked if there was a plan in place to cope with incoming stock.

What I should have asked was if there was a plan in place to cope with incoming staff. Scarcely an hour later, I was called to the manager's office yet again. I'd been interrupted constantly all morning, the way you are every morning in any retail operation, but I do recall muttering under my breath that this skid of dairy product wasn't going to work itself.
I opened the door to be confronted with the store manager and a representative from Human Resources. The previous day's premonition shot back into my head as I regarded THE ENVELOPE with my name on it.

A business decision, was all I was told. This is not personal.
"With all due respect, sir," I said to the manager, "this affects me personally. It IS a personal decision, whatever you may choose to call it."
Whereupon my performance and dedication to the job was summarily and eloquently praised by both of them. It put me yet again in mind of the ten or fifteen minutes Tom from Family and Children's Services spent praising Eva and I to the high heavens before telling us "your house doesn't feel like a house with a child in it" and therefore we would not be allowed to adopt children. "You care so much for your customers...You're very intelligent and calm under pressure...Your work ethic is outstanding...Your openness and willingness to go the extra mile in the adoption process has been a breath of fresh air...you are a real asset to the store and your presence here is a breath of fresh air..."

I needed a breath of fresh air at this point.

If ever you get to wondering why it's so hard for me to take a compliment, there be your clues. All my life I've had praise bestowed upon me, followed all too often by something awful.  Is it any wonder I doubt people's sincerity sometimes?

I shook the hands of the manager and HR man, reflecting bitterly (and not for the first time) that Human Resources is never about the humans, only about the company...and I was walked out by the same longtime colleague who had told me about this job three years before. I had to walk right past a dear friend and let her know we wouldn't be meeting for lunch in 90 minutes because I'd been let go. I think that was about when the tears came.

Forty two years old and you're crying! IN PUBLIC! I felt like slapping myself. Actually, that's a lie. I didn't feel like anything. I had to go to two places to retrieve my belongings, and then realized I forgot something back at the first place...and then I was home, with no real recollection of how I got there. Rode home on autopilot, I guess. Brain-fog. Lucky I wasn't ran over. Or maybe I should have been.

The job wouldn't let go. On the way out, I was telling that produce manager that there was a skid of product in the dairy aisle that really needed to be worked, and who was going to do that, and I'd planned on writing and sending all the orders for tomorrow and Wednesday since I was scheduled off until Thursday and who was going to write those orders and there's a special shipment of stock coming in for a customer and so many things left to do in my d--

and then I was home. Still asking questions. Getting no answers except "it's a business decision."

I was the least senior person in the store being paid top rate. If you're staring at a balance sheet, purely objectively, it makes sense. I'd have chopped me too...provided I didn't know me, of course. But my premonitions aside, I do believe I wasn't the only one caught flat-footed that day.

Then came ten weeks of salary continuance. It was explained to me this way: I was still employed, just not scheduled for any shifts. This was actually a favour they did me--it kept the ravening hordes of tax zombies mostly at bay.They have an especial appetite for severance pay in one lump sum, so called because buddy, Revenue Canada's going to give you some lumps.

I took the summer off. In hindsight, that was a terrible mistake.

I needed a break, I thought. I needed to recover from the career crash. While that was true, what I didn't need was an extended period away from work friends. Even the cranky customers evoked nostalgia after a while. The summer was...bad. It was as if Life, in its infinite multitude, regarded me, said to Itself, "Look, he's down! Let's kick him! No, wait! Let's get his hopes up, over and over, so we can we can kick him back down, again and again and again! Hahahahaha!"

The mask came on after the worst of it.

I'm not one for masks, normally. I can't breathe with them on, and I'd rather be true to myself and let the tears fall where they may. At the same time, nobody needs a gloomy Gus galumphing around.

 I haven't worn that mask since grade 9, so it's no surprise it didn't fit very well. People undoubtedly could see through my protestations that it was fine, I was fine, all manner of things were fine. Worse, sometimes I'd pull the mask off entirely, draw in a great gulping breath of air...and start bawling. Yeah, like that's helpful. It pierced the fog, I guess. For a while. But I was getting more and more fragile, and as time went on, everything and everyone reinforced that fragility. Job searches are not for the weak.

My resume was about fifteen years out of date in terms of its appeal to employers. I didn't know this at first, of course. I've been writing effective resumes since grade five. I have to admit that I took the news that past resume accomplishments were irrelevant with less than good grace. But a career coach at Employment Ontario had me gut it and rebuild it from scratch, and practically the instant that got done I landed another interview.  Which didn't go well: my skills didn't seem to transfer to that job as well as I had thought they would. One step forward, one step back.

It didn't help that my previous employer would not give me a reference.

For those of you who have been fortunate enough not to need a reference from your employer lately, be advised an increasing number of them don't give references at all, for anyone, ever. It's a legal thing: supposedly if they give a good reference and you turn out to be a shitty employee, your new employer can sue your old one. Crazy, ain't it?  This wouldn't be an issue except many new employers still require references, and I am loth to manufacture one out of white cloth. I asked my old manager for a personal reference, promising not to link him to the company, and he looked me in the face and said he'd have one for me in a couple of days. "You were good to me when you were here," he said.

So of course I called in a couple of days and was told there would be no reference forthcoming. Nothing personal, you understand. Just a business decision.

I wanted to scream.

I'd had a trickle of interviews. Some of them I walked out of thinking I'd nailed the job, and nothing. Damned insincerity. Don't praise me to my face, all the while thinking you never want to see it again. I had no fewer than SEVEN opportunities fall through because I do not drive, and the interview and initial placement would take place somewhere I couldn't get to. Normally, my inability to drive is just a fact to build into my life, the way that parents with kids build certain facts into their lives: anything involving travel will take between three and five times as long for me as for others. No big deal.  Except it becomes a big deal when it bites me in the ass, repeatedly: just more proof of my inferiority.

After entirely too long of this, what little confidence I'd had was utterly destroyed, and the lack probably shone through in interviews. But c'mon, seriously. As I said a few posts back, my customer service and merchandising have been nationally recognized. My team has won two provincial sales contests. I've been specially selected as an in-store trainer and facilitator. Retail chops: I got 'em. Why don't people see that?  My God, I've spent a lifetime doing retail and not only did I get "business-decisioned" out the door, they obviously made the right  decision...

Then a part time night crew job came up, I walked into the interview and was essentially hired on the spot. Quelle ironie: it really wasn't a job I wanted. Night shift, minimum wage (with bonuses last year I made twice that). Eighteen or 27 hours a week, NONE of them guaranteed, and because of the commute times I'd be out of the house for more than twelve hours on work days.

But a job is a job and any job is better than no job.

As soon as that thought took root in my head, all of a sudden three serious opportunities showed up.

I had a solid interview for the first one, only to price myself out of the running when the salary expectation came up. Not for the first time, I positioned myself to take a huge pay cut, only to find a supervisory position pays barely over minimum wage. What a world we live in.  At least the person who interviewed me was forthright about her pay scale.

One thing I have noticed through my ordeal is that the level of respect between employers and potential employees is often lacking...on both ends. We all know the employer end:

• Posting jobs when the position has already been filled internally: it may be policy, but it's a colossal waste of EVERYBODY'S time
• Leaving the same job posted for months. What's with that?
• Requiring four careers' worth of experience and/or multiple degrees and certifications  for entry-level positions that pay crap wages
• NOT CONTACTING APPLICANTS AFTER INTERVIEWS. This is completely unacceptable rudeness, as far as I am concerned.  Tell me I'm unspeakably ugly, that I have no job skills, that you're quite frankly surprised I bothered applying. I can take it. There is nothing you can say to me that's any worse than what my mind will conjure forth out of your silence.

Or here's one:

The second interview also seemed to go well. The interviewer repeatedly thanked me for doing some research on required job knowledge before meeting with him, and I walked out really wanting this job and hoping I had it: for the price of 50 hour work weeks from May to October, I would have 25-hour work weeks the rest of the year, paid at the same reasonable salary. Only a day after I'd been informed I'd find out one way or the other, I got this email:

Hi Ken, 
Thank you for coming in Tuesday for an interview. You possessed so many of the skills we were looking [sic], however, we have offered the position to another candidate. We were fortunate enough to have many great candidates apply which made it a very difficult decision.
Once again thank you for your time and we wish you the best in your future endeavors [sic].
Regards,

I. M. Al-Eyer

He actually signed it with the name he was using when I met him. How do I know this is his real name? Because he is still seeking candidates for the position. In fact, he re-posted it on a different job board about 45 minutes after the last interview was scheduled. Did he seriously think I wouldn't notice that?

So let's review: I possessed "so many" skills, but not only was I no better than the other two people he interviewed, I would automatically be worse than a whole pool of unknowns yet to even apply. Thanks so much, sir,  that's just what I needed to hear in my present state of mind.

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To be fair, applicants are rude, too. Throughout my job search I have heard tell of, and sometimes seen, the evidence: 

• Not showing up for interviews. I'm told this is a pandemic in retail: one store manager informed me that of the twenty (!) people she booked for interviews, three showed up, and only one of the other seventeen bothered to even call with regrets, saying she had obtained another job.
• Showing up for an interview in blue jeans. Seriously? Even if you're applying at Levi's, I think that's just wrong. 
• Walking out of a group interview ten minutes in without a word. I watched this happen.
• Not showing up for your first shift.  
• Pulling out a joint and offering the interviewer a toke (just, like, wow, dude)  

The third opportunity came up while I was applying for the first. I had a feeling, at the end of the screening phone interview...the exact antithesis of the premonition I'd had the day before I was laid off. As ridiculous as it sounds, by the time she finished saying

 "the next step in the process is a group interview, if we want you, and we really want you..."

--by the time she finished saying that I actually found myself thinking I was laid off as long as I was precisely because this position wasn't ready for me yet.

The group interview also went well (although one person didn't show up for it, and as I said above, another person walked out without a word). Outwardly, I was the picture of concern; inwardly, I was thinking, yay, more jobs for me. It was probably the easiest interview process I've had yet: each question or scenario felt like it was lobbed at me and I could hit if off a tee. It's funny what just a little confidence can do.

That said, until it was official, I was wondering what crazy scenario might yank this job away from me. I got all the paperwork and was told that subject to a background and reference check, I was hired: all I had to do was wait for the confirmation.

I don't wait well. Not when I know I'm waiting. I worked two excruciating overnight shifts. The pain was entirely my fault: I let myself get out of shape. Last night, in particular, I was thrown to the wolves. I accomplished what would have been considered a solid night's work ten months ago...and when I got home this morning I was a Norse god. Mighty Thor, I mean. I got to bed at 10:30 this morning, after having worked 9:30-7 last night...and was up again barely two hours later, feeling an adrenaline dump that threatened to make me puke.

I am proud to announce that I am once again gainfully employed, full time, starting Monday. 

Doing exactly what I have done all along, only this time for the largest retailer in the world. Although it's a huge pay cut, the opportunities for advancement, I'm told, are limitless. All I have to do is reach out and seize one. Which I will do with alacrity. The flip side to someone like me who has been given more than enough reason to doubt people's sincerity over the years: prove that sincerity with actions, not words--professionally, for instance, by, say, hiring me, or personally by demonstrating your kind words aren't empty--and you will find me to be fiercely loyal. I will work my tail off, not just for me, but for the people who demonstrate faith in me.


There are some thank you's to be doled out here.

ELEANOR GIVEN, my career coach at Conestoga College. I would urge any one who is out of work to seek a career coach. As I said above, Eleanor worked with me to make my resume into something that actually showcases my skills and accomplishments. Aside from that, there were several times I went into her office putting up the bravest front I could muster, and each time she managed to make me actually feel the positively I was only projecting. That's a rare, rare skill and it deserves recognition.

LONG-LOST COUSIN MICHAEL, who provided me with information and support through the last part of this agonizing process, despite not having seen me for many, many years. Thank you.

The last nine months have tested some friendships, deepened some others, and created still others. I'm blessed beyond belief to have such a garden of friends, each and every one of whom has helped to keep me afloat. I'm sure many of you became sick of me after a while. I certainly did. Nevertheless, no matter how many times I fell, there was always somebody there to pick me up, dust me off, and give me a push.

If I could just mention a few of you--

CRAIG--If it seems like I am always thanking you, that's because I am. You are a man who has my respect, admiration, and love; I only hope I can be half the friend to you that you have been to me.

NICOLE: Your piano always seemed to be there when I really needed it...and so were you. Thank you for being such a caring and understanding friend.

SUE: For incredible emotional support; for always seeming to know the right words to say and just how to say them; for wisdom, clarity, and selflessness; for being you. Thank you.

SUSANNAH: I am privileged to have watched your art burst out of you and brighten so many places and lives. Privileged and not a bit surprised; such quality only mirrors your own. Thank you for your friendship.

JO-ANNE: "Shared pain is lessened"...your strength has bolstered mine and I appreciate so much all that you have done for me. Illegitimis non carborundorum!

And finally, of course, EVA. Fifteen years ago this October, as I prepared myself to walk down a church aisle, I reflected that I didn't deserve such a love in my life. Yet you're still here. I could spend ten screens extolling your virtues and only get the ones on top. I know I have been a real pain to put up with lately, and I am very sorry for that. Thank you, from the depth of my soul, for the depth of yours. Thank you for being with me before, now, and always. I love you so very much.