On Being “Between Jobs”
Since November, I have been “between jobs.” (That’s what the headhunters and career counselors tell me to say. I’ve been told that “unemployed” and “laid off” are too negative, and will make me feel more depressed while making prospective employers concerned about my emotional stability. Whatever.)
It was nice at first. I had been working long hours, taking work home, even, on occasion, taking the kids to the office with me. My severance package made it possible for me to take November and December “off.” My first vacation in two years. It was wonderful. I didn’t realize just how much I missed my boys until I was once again with them all them time. I’m not so sure, now, that it was a good idea. I don’t want to go back to work now. I love being with my kids too much. (Can someone explain why a progressive country like ours doesn’t compensate stay-home moms for their work? I think I read somewhere that a stay-home parent’s job responsibilities would cost something like $130K annually if someone had to be hired to do them. Can’t we get a tax credit for single income families in which one parent is staying home with the kids?)
Fact is, though, I don’t have a choice. The amount of child-support I’m getting wouldn’t cover the house note every month. So I’ve really buckled down to the job-hunting thing. I sent out a few resumes and attended a few network meetings in November and December, but I’ve sent out more than 200 since early January, and I’ve networked my ever-lovin’ head off. I went to a job fair today, which was, as best I can tell, a colossal waste of my time. The majority of the “exhibitors” were looking for nurses … makes me wish I’d gone to nursing school. (I didn’t because I figured that I’d be seeing a lot of vomit if I were a nurse, and I puke when I see vomit. I can’t see that being much help to a patient.)
But here’s what really bugs me. When you tell someone that you are out of work at the moment, they start acting differently toward you. It’s like they are afraid you are going to start panhandling on the spot. Or something. I haven’t quite figured that one out. And potential employers do some odd things too. Here are a couple of my horror stories.
I applied for a position with a company, a position which was practically identical to the one I lost in November. The company was downtown, and I was told to park in their garage. But when I got there, the garage was full, and I had to pay $5 for parking. And this company put me through the wringer. My first interview was on the phone and lasted an hour. My second interview was downtown, and lasted an hour. I had to fill out a 40-page application and a 20-page medical questionnaire, plus a number of other questionnaires. My third set of interviews was downtown, 90 minutes with a shrink, and then about an hour with a personnel guy. Then I spent another 90 minutes taking a polygraph test. My fourth set of interviews was downtown again, and lasted from 10 in the morning to 5:15 that evening. (They did let me go to lunch.) In all, I interviewed with about ten people, spent more than 16 hours in the application and interviewing process, and forked out $25 in parking fees (their garage was always full. They did ask if I’d had trouble parking, and I mentioned that the garage was full, but not once did anyone offer to validate my parking ticket or cover my parking fees.) I got a letter two weeks ago saying that the job had been filled by “someone more qualified” —- but I notice that the ad for that same job is still in the paper this week.
Horror story number two is the deceptive ads that I’ve answered. They say they are looking for a management trainee. You call the number and make an appointment. When you arrive, you fill out the application and go in for a qualifying interview. That’s when you are hit between the eyes with the scheme. You’ll do door-to-door sales for a while, and when you’ve sold $10K worth of product, you can go to step 2 in the “training” process. The second place that did this to me said that their average product cost $20, and 1 of every 10 prospects would buy. I’m no math-whiz ever, but if I figured it right, I could expect to spend a year on step one. If I spend 15 minutes with each prospect, and spend 8 hours a day on sales calls, I will talk to 32 people. One-tenth of 32 is 3 sales a day. At $20 per sale, and 3 sales per day, it would take me 167 days (33 five-day weeks, or 8 months) to sell $10K. So what I’m spending my time applying for is not a management trainee position, it’s door-to-door sales with the potential for advancement. There’s a big difference in my book.
What I wonder is how the people who engage in these kinds of games can live with themselves. To take advantage of someone at any time is wrong, but to take advantage of some poor slob who’s lost his job and is desperately trying to find a way to support his family — that’s despicable.
Anyway, enough ranting. I have to go back to the kitchen table and write some more cover letters.