I have now been unemployed for 20 days. I have submitted approximately 34 applications and I have received one call from a potential employer. The job to which I applied received over 2,500 applicants. Of this pool which is comparable to the population a small mid-western town, the employer contacted 200 applicants, in an effort to eventually weed this number down to fill the 100 available positions. Amazingly, I was one of these 200. That is, until he asked if I had any commitments in the foreseeable future. Apparently attending two weddings in May and June was enough to render me unemployable, despite my bachelors degree, my Peace Corps stint and my eight years’ customer service experience.
It’s okay, I didn’t want to work for them anyway.
So aside from the whole imminent financial doom thing, unemployment really isn’t that bad of a gig. I haven’t a job that I loathe, I wake up at a respectable (8:30 am) hour, I’ve developed an affinity for daytime television, and I have all the time in the world to write. This is not to say that at times I get a little bummed that I haven’t a job. As I was walking to the coffee shop today, I saw a young postal worker making his neighborhood rounds, delivering bills, letters, and supermarket ads. All I could think was, “even this guy can get a job. Why not me?” Forlorn and a bit cold (it is Winter, after all), I continued my shuffle towards Cafe Europa. As I walked in, I found that practically every seat was taken. I have never taken my coffee to go from this establishment, and I wasn’t about to start today. So after I paid for my large dark, I took a long sip from my mug and scoped out my seating options. I found a guy occupying a table for four. I politely asked if I could join his table, and he acquiesced. In a short period of time, I got to know an individual not too different from me. Unemployed, he spends his afternoons at Europa, applying for jobs and scribbling away at his blog. He has applied to be a freelancer for various Denver area publications and what he really wants to do in the meantime (while he waits for grad school to commence in September) is write for a living. We spoke casually about the economy, about being unemployed and joked how we were probably each others embittered competition. In time our conversation ebbed and he picked up a copy of Westword and I began writing this blog.
It is an odd comfort knowing that I’m not alone in the angst that is unemployment. But it is also a very inauspicous realization. For every happily (and otherwise) employed person I encounter, there are many others out there just like me: Unemployed and diligently trying to change it.
Punks.
