Po' Folk Like Me

Friday, March 11, 2005 is my last official day at the Company. Monday, March 14, I will be unemployed. Again. It’s my own decision. This time, I can’t blame the Company for laying me off or re-orging me out of a job. This time, I left because the job was not a good fit for me. There were many other compelling reasons, I assure you, but I’ll leave it at that. Being a child of this economy and unfamiliar with the 10, 20, 30-year career employees of yesteryear, I have never considered it a blot on someone’s resume if they have had, shall we say, a dynamic, work history. Of course, a prospective employer may not hold the same opinion.

The prospect of being unemployed does not petrify me, as much as it does most people, I think. I have no outstanding debt or loans, very low rent, no car note, no children, good teeth, good health, good credit and if worse comes to worse, I can survive on baked tofu, cottage cheese, fruit and nuts. And chocolate. Schargenberger chocolate. I know I’ll never be homeless (Hi Mom!) and I know what the state of unemployment feels like. I’ve been there. I’ve lived there. Pretty comfortably, too, all things considered.

First off, there’s no room for pride when you’re on a budget. SBC runs a program called the Universal Lifeline Program. It exists so that low-income residents (po’ folk) can get a significant discount off their phone service. Chanel, a very personable and pleasant service rep, signed me up for it today. She was waaay nicer than I ever was with my customers at the Company. I think I’ll be paying something ridiculous like $2.50 a month. And of course, once you go DSL, you can’t go back to Dial-Up for your Internet access. Two phone calls later, I managed to cut my telecom and Internet budget to warrant a $420 savings by the end of the year. Hey, that’s the price of plane ticket to Machu Picchu!

Second, erase any images of yourself tooling around town in your brand new silver Mini Cooper. Temporarily. I am currently without wheels and for about a minute, entertained the idea of getting a zippy little car that could whisk me and my S.O. away for weekends in the Napa Valley. For now, if I get a jones for a nice bottle of red, I’ll hop into my Mom’s ten-year old Acura and jet on over to my local BevMo. A good trick is to start off with a decent bottle, then work your way down to the Two-Buck-Chuck wines at Trader Joe’s. I’ve found there’s no discernable difference in buzz factor, after four or five glasses.

Third, accept that you’ll have to hustle to make ends meet but enjoy the time off from a “real” job. I’m fortunate that the sweet ladies at Ascot Temporary Services have labeled me a “good” temp. I’ll get assignments here and there, be able to pay rent, and I’ll never take it personally that they’ll never bother to learn my name. Short-term gigs are task-driven and since most temp jobs border on mindless-monkey jobs, you’re free to use that precious surplus brain power to think of that million-dollar idea that will bankroll your retirement. Right now, I’m knocking around an idea that involves me, a webcam and a credit card machine.

Despite the fact that I will be without a regular paycheck indefinitely, I’m not tripping. I may feel like I’m free-falling but I know this is a temporary state. Life can turn on a dime. Just ask me how, the next time you see my chilling on my front stoop with a pocketful of change.