I don't know if it's post inauguration euphoria or the darn winter around here, but I'm feeling under the weather today. Chills. The start of body aches. But I got to keep on plugging away. It's like I can hear the clock ticking.
I have so much work to do, and not feeling well doesn't make it easy to memorize scripts, study music theory, or work on finding work. It just makes me want to crawl in bed and pull the covers over my head. That's how I get when I get sick. I just want to crawl in a hole and be left alone.
A staffing agent called me yesterday after I got home from watching the inauguration in Boston to ask me what was up. She had nothing, with nothing on the horizon. The people she talked to had all laid people off, so they weren't going to hire even contract workers.
But...
I'm...hopeful. That's a very human emotion. It's what gets a lot of us out of bed in the morning despite all signs saying otherwise. I don't think polar bears or sea otters or wolverines hope. We do though. Hope is just one of the many emotions we've developed to keep the species going.
But now that President Obama is safely ensconced in the White House, I guess I can come out with it all. I am hopeful. He's better than what we had in there. (Hell, a kangaroo would have been better. A platypus. A mushroom. Anything or anyone. Was there ever a more inept person running this country?)
But Obama is still a politician, and just as I wrote to someone today, I don't trust politicians at all. Period. I'm old enough to remember Camelot, and just like the war in Iraq has a lot of parallels to Vietnam, the Obama administration is looking a lot like 1961.
And, while his outlook and views are, I think, just what this country needs right now, just like Gerald Ford's milquetoast was exactly what the country needed after Nixon, he is faced with problems that seem almost insurmountable.
But I did like what I heard yesterday. Particularly about making the hard choices and the economy. We're all just going to have to do with less, and that's going to be harder for some than others.
And I think that's a good thing, too. I think the unwonted materialism of this country made many of us compromise our values to the point where many didn't even know we were compromising them anymore. People had to pay for their double-mortgaged houses and SUVs and wide-screen televisions, all paid for with credit. Rather than make our lives better, it made us mean and selfish.
It seems that over the past generation or two, we've become a divided country. You can see it on our magazine stands. There are magazines for acoustic guitars, electric guitars, metal guitars. Name a substrata of human being and there's a magazine for it.
And there was a time when we needed to divide up a bit. African-Americans had to circle the wagons and gain an identity. Women and gays had to fight for rights. And so on.
And that was all a good thing.
But now I think the pendulum is ready to swing the other way, and we have to start looking at ourselves again as one big mighty nation of people. That's pretty much what I heard yesterday.
Obama has a vision for unity. But the nuts and bolts of running a country and breathing life into a dead economy are still the things that gave people pause during the election.
Today is Day One. For Obama.
For me, and a lot of people like me, it's just any other day.
Showing posts with label lay offs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lay offs. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Innaguration Day Boston
I'm a photographer and a writer, not by choice, but because that's the way I was made. Like I tell my daughter who is studying journalism: Are you sure? You have to have ink in your veins.
I went out and documented Innaguration Day in Boston. I have .avis that for some reason won't upload to blogspot. Hmmm...maybe it's time to move addresses.
Anway, I saw so many signs of the failing economy out there. Sure, there were pretty pictures, too. But you know, the signs are there, people. The cracks are showing. And frankly, someone with my sensibilities should be listened to. I'm just saying.
It was a gorgeous day, though. After all the snow. It was cold and crisp and it was the kind of day that lets you know you're alive. And Boston is a pretty city in the snow.
In the Wollaston CVS.
Her sign said she came there everyday and put down 100 stones to commemorate the lives lost in Iraq and Afghanistan. Over alongside Trinity Church, on Boylston.
One tough-looking Obama.
Overflow at the Old South Church, listening to President Obama's speech.
I went out and documented Innaguration Day in Boston. I have .avis that for some reason won't upload to blogspot. Hmmm...maybe it's time to move addresses.
Anway, I saw so many signs of the failing economy out there. Sure, there were pretty pictures, too. But you know, the signs are there, people. The cracks are showing. And frankly, someone with my sensibilities should be listened to. I'm just saying.
It was a gorgeous day, though. After all the snow. It was cold and crisp and it was the kind of day that lets you know you're alive. And Boston is a pretty city in the snow.
In the Wollaston CVS.
Her sign said she came there everyday and put down 100 stones to commemorate the lives lost in Iraq and Afghanistan. Over alongside Trinity Church, on Boylston.
One tough-looking Obama.
Overflow at the Old South Church, listening to President Obama's speech.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Please sir, can you spare a dime?
Last week I pored over my contacts and made a list. This morning I started making calls. And I was hesitant about picking up the phone. Which is weird because a lot of the names on the list are people who I worked with for a number of years, and for whom I did some really good work. Again, it's all that business about not having a job...the default feelings that come with it all that you're just not up to snuff. Plus there's the fear of rejection.
But you just do it, and suddenly, it's so easy. The first place I called even had it on record that I had contacted them in the summer, and that I had been giving them a heads up that I'd probably be looking soon. And then the remembrance of those ensuing five months--five months!...I twisted in the wind for five months!--flooded into my head, of all that uncertainty at the agency and it just wasn't a lot of fun. You make do. You make your own fun. But getting the axe was the best thing, really. In some ways, I do feel sorry for the people who were left.
And it wasn't much to get back into things. I'm good at this, building, working, organizing, and I like a challenge. I don't run. And selling yourself is a good thing because it brings to the forefront of your mind who you are and your worth. It's quite an affirming thing to realize that you really do have something to offer.
And the most ridiculous part about this is I am a writer and an actor. Hell, we're supposed to be out of work, aren't we? It's a great time to re-evaluate and plan and try something new. Kathryn even said to me last night that I should pursue the one thing that I really love--photography. Young people know, and are fearless. Just do it, they think.
But you just do it, and suddenly, it's so easy. The first place I called even had it on record that I had contacted them in the summer, and that I had been giving them a heads up that I'd probably be looking soon. And then the remembrance of those ensuing five months--five months!...I twisted in the wind for five months!--flooded into my head, of all that uncertainty at the agency and it just wasn't a lot of fun. You make do. You make your own fun. But getting the axe was the best thing, really. In some ways, I do feel sorry for the people who were left.
And it wasn't much to get back into things. I'm good at this, building, working, organizing, and I like a challenge. I don't run. And selling yourself is a good thing because it brings to the forefront of your mind who you are and your worth. It's quite an affirming thing to realize that you really do have something to offer.
And the most ridiculous part about this is I am a writer and an actor. Hell, we're supposed to be out of work, aren't we? It's a great time to re-evaluate and plan and try something new. Kathryn even said to me last night that I should pursue the one thing that I really love--photography. Young people know, and are fearless. Just do it, they think.
Friday, January 9, 2009
I'm happy...so what's wrong with me?
I don't know. There must be something wrong with me because I can't wipe this grin off my face.
Despite the news, despite the daily feed of downers, I just can't seem to stop shaking this optimistic feeling I have. And maybe it's because I've seen some tough times. I blogged about it the other day. And when you've experienced some of the stuff that I've been through, you learn to take each day one at a time. You take what the day gives you, and if it gives you a smile, you learn to humbly accept it and be grateful, knowing that tomorrow may not be so.
Today it was reported that 524,000 jobs were lost in December. And I was one of them. The U.S. unemployment rate is now at 7.2%, the highest it's been since January, 1993, the first time I was laid off. Just this week I learned of two other friends who were laid off, and another buddy who's been out of work for a few months said in an email that things were getting "rustic." Jobs are scarce.
But not only could things be worse, there is a lot of good things going on. Not that you stick your head in the sand and just notice the good and ignore the bad. I think what you do is just deal with life as it comes, good and bad, and when the bad comes don't let it overshadow the other parts of life.
And realize that things could be worse. Like I wanted to tell the exec who laid me off a month ago. He had such a long face, I wanted to ask him: Are you going to take my kids away? Are you going to tell me I have cancer?
Here's a little something about Sue: She's blind in one eye and has glaucoma in the other. Most likely someday she'll be blind. But she gets up every day smiling. I mean really smiling. In the years I've known her now, I don't think I've ever seen her get up grumpy.
Today on Facebook one of my FB Friends' status line is that he's grateful for 11 years of sobriety. That's something to smile about.
Yesterday I spoke with my daughter in Spain on Skype. How cool is that? But more to the point, like I blogged about the other day, she and I have gone through some tough times together, and that I still have her in my life is something to celebrate every day.
Not to mention my other lovely daughter, Kathryn, who has always been my little buddy, even though she's almost as tall as me.
I'm not a blithering idiot. I still wake up in the middle of the night, worrying, or maybe the better word is, wondering. Just like the other night. And Sue was awake, too; her back was keeping her awake. And we laid there in the dark, talking, sometimes laughing, sometimes just being there together. And Bob, good old Bob, The Wonder Aussie, was snoring contentedly on the old sleeping bag he uses for a bed, and Sue said, Listen to him. Not a care in the world. And we laughed.
Despite the news, despite the daily feed of downers, I just can't seem to stop shaking this optimistic feeling I have. And maybe it's because I've seen some tough times. I blogged about it the other day. And when you've experienced some of the stuff that I've been through, you learn to take each day one at a time. You take what the day gives you, and if it gives you a smile, you learn to humbly accept it and be grateful, knowing that tomorrow may not be so.
Today it was reported that 524,000 jobs were lost in December. And I was one of them. The U.S. unemployment rate is now at 7.2%, the highest it's been since January, 1993, the first time I was laid off. Just this week I learned of two other friends who were laid off, and another buddy who's been out of work for a few months said in an email that things were getting "rustic." Jobs are scarce.
But not only could things be worse, there is a lot of good things going on. Not that you stick your head in the sand and just notice the good and ignore the bad. I think what you do is just deal with life as it comes, good and bad, and when the bad comes don't let it overshadow the other parts of life.
And realize that things could be worse. Like I wanted to tell the exec who laid me off a month ago. He had such a long face, I wanted to ask him: Are you going to take my kids away? Are you going to tell me I have cancer?
Here's a little something about Sue: She's blind in one eye and has glaucoma in the other. Most likely someday she'll be blind. But she gets up every day smiling. I mean really smiling. In the years I've known her now, I don't think I've ever seen her get up grumpy.
Today on Facebook one of my FB Friends' status line is that he's grateful for 11 years of sobriety. That's something to smile about.
Yesterday I spoke with my daughter in Spain on Skype. How cool is that? But more to the point, like I blogged about the other day, she and I have gone through some tough times together, and that I still have her in my life is something to celebrate every day.
Not to mention my other lovely daughter, Kathryn, who has always been my little buddy, even though she's almost as tall as me.
I'm not a blithering idiot. I still wake up in the middle of the night, worrying, or maybe the better word is, wondering. Just like the other night. And Sue was awake, too; her back was keeping her awake. And we laid there in the dark, talking, sometimes laughing, sometimes just being there together. And Bob, good old Bob, The Wonder Aussie, was snoring contentedly on the old sleeping bag he uses for a bed, and Sue said, Listen to him. Not a care in the world. And we laughed.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
A trip to the unemployment office
Well, first, it's not called the unemployment office anymore. It's called the...drumroll, maestro...The Career Center. Ta-da. No it is not a Career Center. Let's face facts here, people. It's the unemployment office because you go there because you're unemployed.
I tried to sign up for unemployment benefits--that's code for money--a couple of times over the phone, but the sheer volume of people seeking career advice--that's more code for money--caused the Career Center to implode. First I was shunted to another day based on the last digit of my social security number, and then when I called on that day I was held in a holding pattern, eating up my cell minutes like Pacman on speed, then after about twenty minutes I was unceremoniously disconnected.
So I decided to go in, in person. With much trepidation, I might add. Because in this country, it is shameful and embarrassing to be out of work, or poor, or just not a bright and shiny lie. But heck, I'm an actor and a writer. I need life experiences to keep my creative juices flowing.
And you know what? It wasn't that bad. As a matter of fact, it wasn't bad at all. Just regular folks needing a little help. I even saw a woman there who I used to see on the T when I commuted. Small world. We're all in this together, people.
I took two books I'm reading: A Journey in Ladakh by Andrew Harvey and One Man's Wilderness by Sam Keith. (Sorry. I haven't updated weRead on Facebook. I've been a little busy.) Both books are about people searching for spirituality, each in their own way. One, in Ladakh, India, and the other in Alaska.
The Career Center was a bit hard to find, sort of tucked away on a side street. I asked a UPS driver where it was. He told me, and he was the one who ruefully told me it was called the Career Center now, and we laughed, then he said there were a lot of people there and wished me good luck. Boy I tell you, the regular response of people when they learn you got laid off is that you've been diagnosed with cancer.
It wasn't that crowded. I expected the place to look like they were giving away Springsteen tickets, but it was quiet and friendly. I had to fill out a form, then sit for a bit longer than an hour. I read a bit about the man building a log cabin in Alaska, then while I was reading about the British intellectual looking for spiritual enlightenment in India, my name was called.
A brief meeting with a consultant, and I was out of there.
Oh, and I also learned that the state is hiring prison guards. Now there's a job for a writer/actor.
I tried to sign up for unemployment benefits--that's code for money--a couple of times over the phone, but the sheer volume of people seeking career advice--that's more code for money--caused the Career Center to implode. First I was shunted to another day based on the last digit of my social security number, and then when I called on that day I was held in a holding pattern, eating up my cell minutes like Pacman on speed, then after about twenty minutes I was unceremoniously disconnected.
So I decided to go in, in person. With much trepidation, I might add. Because in this country, it is shameful and embarrassing to be out of work, or poor, or just not a bright and shiny lie. But heck, I'm an actor and a writer. I need life experiences to keep my creative juices flowing.
And you know what? It wasn't that bad. As a matter of fact, it wasn't bad at all. Just regular folks needing a little help. I even saw a woman there who I used to see on the T when I commuted. Small world. We're all in this together, people.
I took two books I'm reading: A Journey in Ladakh by Andrew Harvey and One Man's Wilderness by Sam Keith. (Sorry. I haven't updated weRead on Facebook. I've been a little busy.) Both books are about people searching for spirituality, each in their own way. One, in Ladakh, India, and the other in Alaska.
The Career Center was a bit hard to find, sort of tucked away on a side street. I asked a UPS driver where it was. He told me, and he was the one who ruefully told me it was called the Career Center now, and we laughed, then he said there were a lot of people there and wished me good luck. Boy I tell you, the regular response of people when they learn you got laid off is that you've been diagnosed with cancer.
It wasn't that crowded. I expected the place to look like they were giving away Springsteen tickets, but it was quiet and friendly. I had to fill out a form, then sit for a bit longer than an hour. I read a bit about the man building a log cabin in Alaska, then while I was reading about the British intellectual looking for spiritual enlightenment in India, my name was called.
A brief meeting with a consultant, and I was out of there.
Oh, and I also learned that the state is hiring prison guards. Now there's a job for a writer/actor.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Friday night, and the week is over
Boston.com picked up yesterday's blog. That's always a nice thing, when someone, like an editor, picks Action Bob. It pretty much validates what goes on here, or on any blog or creative outlet for that matter--a stage, a canvas, a page, whatever--that the author does have something worthwhile to say. That the person is does have something worthwhile to share. It's a nice pick-me-up. Damnit, I can write to make people sit up and notice. I always could. And I always will. It's fun to watch the analytic software tic off the numbers, and watch the graph take that steep climb posting the numbers.
I have to admit that after writing yesterday's post, it was a bit difficult to hit the publish button. But it only goes to prove that the truth is worth something.
I didn't write yesterday's blog to garner sympathy. I'm long past sympathy. Like I wrote on my Facebook status line yesterday, John is comfortable in his own skin. I've pretty much accepted who and what I am, and when that happens with any person, it's a wonderful thing. You suddenly gain a lot of peace in your life.
I wasn't sure what to write today. I had ideas. And I guess if it's truth you want, well, I'll give you another helping today.
Sue went out on a call again in the middle of last night. She's working extra to compensate for me losing my job, though she said she'd be doing it anyway for the extra money, even if I wasn't laid off. I know that's true, but I hate to see her going out in the middle of the night like that, in the dark and the cold. It was something like 13 degrees last night when she went out on the call.
And it's not easy for somebody like me to watch--and here's where it gets tricky--Sue and I aren't married, but we might as well be, the way we live and act and run our household. But I've never in my adult life had anyone support me. I've been pretty much working steady since I was 12 years old. I'm not making that up or even stretching the truth. By the time I was in my mid-teens I was working and buying my own clothes and pulling a good part of my own way. This stings the ego a bit, I have to admit.
So I got up today and was going to blog today about how gray the day was, but it was too depressing. I want to put positive things down here, although sometimes you got to go backwards to go forwards, if you understand what I'm saying. I'm not a Pollyanna, and I'm not always going to be writing about sunny days. If it's rainy, damnit I'll write about the rain. I've never understood people who say, when I was little we were poor, but we didn't know it because we had love. I want to say, what were you, stupid? How can you be that dumb to not know you were poor? Couldn't you see what kind of car your friends' families were driving, then look at yours? Couldn't you see the Sear catalog clothes you were wearing, then see the department store clothes your friends were wearing? No, poor is poor, and poor hurts sometimes.
Anyway, I've experienced this so many times. You get up feeling bad, just beat on. Then, before you know it, something good happens, like the Boston.com thing. And you just work bit by bit. I spent the day pulling more samples together. Working on my resume. Nothing was going to happen today. Everyone in the business world was pretty much drooling out of their collective mouths today if they were in the office. Monday is when I hope to see things rolling.
So I worked for awhile, all the time thinking about Sue in the back of my mind. I called her once, and she didn't answer. That's always a bad sign. I tried leaving her alone, but called a bit later and got her and the poor thing sounded so tired. I wanted to see how she was doing, and wanted to have things special when she walked through the door. She said she was so tired and hungry.
So tonight when Sue walks through that door there will be tacos and a nice bottle of Beaujolais waiting for her. And flowers. It's not a lot, nothing fancy, but hopefully it something, enough to get her to understand just how much I love her.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
New Year's Eve
Hmmm...you know, it's been a pretty damn good year. It just goes to show, when you choose to live, things take off.
Today is a day on which we tend to look back on the year and make some sort of assessment, though the only reason is the days have run out on the calendar. It's not as if the earth is in any special spot in its yearly spin around the sun. It's just a dark, cold day not too far into winter. Nothing more, nothing less.
And it's funny that I was thinking about all this and what a wonderful year it's been when I got a call from my cousin, Jerry, who I don't think I've spoken with in maybe two or three years. He had read this blog and about me getting laid off, and after the opening pleasantries he said something about it being a busy time. He was referring to getting laid off. Losing a job is a biggie, but if you can believe it, I didn't catch on at first, because hands down it's not affecting me the way I guess it might other people. Or it's not affecting me because of the way my life has been going, and it would take something more colossal than a job loss to get me down.
Not that I'm not affected by it; I don't mean that at all. It's just that I'm having a hard time wiping the grin off my face, when I look back on the year.
There was so much, starting in January when Sue and I moved into this apartment together. Everything's been so right from then on. I said to Jerry that it's taken me 52 years to achieve domestic bliss.
2008 was the year I made a concerted decision to start acting again. I took Meisner classes, got a new headshot, nailed the StageSource auditions, got cast in The Boys of Winter and got great reviews, and won SlamBoston. I closed out the year with a great run with The Halfway House Club, being very proud of my performance.
Right after Boys closed in September Sue and I went to the Austin City Limits Music Festival, and in November, despite storm warnings from Detroit, took off for two great weeks in Arizona.
Christmas with my two girls and friends was wonderful.
Interspersed in all that were concerts and great times with friends and Sue. Life is good, there's no other way to say it.
And yeah, somewhere in there the job went south.
But even with that, I met a lot of wonderful, fun, talented people at the agency who I wouldn't mind working with sometime in the future. Like I told Jerry: I don't have any bad feelings toward the agency. The money and the contract ran out.
You choose to live. You choose life over the alternative. Otherwise you're just sitting around waiting for the Grim Reaper. When Sue and I chose to live together, a couple of people didn't think it was such a good idea. One person actually called Sue one year ago and tried to convince her not to move in with me. Someone tried to sow some doubt in my head about Sue. Yeah, nice, huh? But we knew it was the right thing to do, and a year later we've put together a nice little home.
They say it makes all the difference in the world when people with terminal diseases choose to keep living. I knew I was going to lose my job. But Sue and I decided to take our trip anyway. Maybe more prudent, responsible people would have postponed it, saving the money for a rainy day--make that the deluge. But we asked ourselves if, when they're lowering us in our graves, we would regret going saving the money, and the answer was easy. The answer was, no.
We're choosing to live the way we want going into 2009. Starting in January, Sue is signed up for music lessons. I'm taking music theory and an another acting course. We'll find the money somewhere. Sue and I both see education as a life-long endeavor. You never stop learning. You never stop working on your craft.
And so, there's a pot of homemade chicken soup that's been cooking all day on the stove. I made it from the carcass of the Christmas chicken. There's fresh bread from the Middle Eastern grocery, and Sue's favorite bottle of wine to toast in the New Year, if Sue doesn't get called out tonight. We'll snuggle up on the love seat and watch Lonesome Dove, and laugh when Gus cuts the cards with Laurie for a poke, cause that's just the way we are.
And that closes out 2008.
Happy New Year, everyone.
Today is a day on which we tend to look back on the year and make some sort of assessment, though the only reason is the days have run out on the calendar. It's not as if the earth is in any special spot in its yearly spin around the sun. It's just a dark, cold day not too far into winter. Nothing more, nothing less.
And it's funny that I was thinking about all this and what a wonderful year it's been when I got a call from my cousin, Jerry, who I don't think I've spoken with in maybe two or three years. He had read this blog and about me getting laid off, and after the opening pleasantries he said something about it being a busy time. He was referring to getting laid off. Losing a job is a biggie, but if you can believe it, I didn't catch on at first, because hands down it's not affecting me the way I guess it might other people. Or it's not affecting me because of the way my life has been going, and it would take something more colossal than a job loss to get me down.
Not that I'm not affected by it; I don't mean that at all. It's just that I'm having a hard time wiping the grin off my face, when I look back on the year.
There was so much, starting in January when Sue and I moved into this apartment together. Everything's been so right from then on. I said to Jerry that it's taken me 52 years to achieve domestic bliss.
2008 was the year I made a concerted decision to start acting again. I took Meisner classes, got a new headshot, nailed the StageSource auditions, got cast in The Boys of Winter and got great reviews, and won SlamBoston. I closed out the year with a great run with The Halfway House Club, being very proud of my performance.
Right after Boys closed in September Sue and I went to the Austin City Limits Music Festival, and in November, despite storm warnings from Detroit, took off for two great weeks in Arizona.
Christmas with my two girls and friends was wonderful.
Interspersed in all that were concerts and great times with friends and Sue. Life is good, there's no other way to say it.
And yeah, somewhere in there the job went south.
But even with that, I met a lot of wonderful, fun, talented people at the agency who I wouldn't mind working with sometime in the future. Like I told Jerry: I don't have any bad feelings toward the agency. The money and the contract ran out.
You choose to live. You choose life over the alternative. Otherwise you're just sitting around waiting for the Grim Reaper. When Sue and I chose to live together, a couple of people didn't think it was such a good idea. One person actually called Sue one year ago and tried to convince her not to move in with me. Someone tried to sow some doubt in my head about Sue. Yeah, nice, huh? But we knew it was the right thing to do, and a year later we've put together a nice little home.
They say it makes all the difference in the world when people with terminal diseases choose to keep living. I knew I was going to lose my job. But Sue and I decided to take our trip anyway. Maybe more prudent, responsible people would have postponed it, saving the money for a rainy day--make that the deluge. But we asked ourselves if, when they're lowering us in our graves, we would regret going saving the money, and the answer was easy. The answer was, no.
We're choosing to live the way we want going into 2009. Starting in January, Sue is signed up for music lessons. I'm taking music theory and an another acting course. We'll find the money somewhere. Sue and I both see education as a life-long endeavor. You never stop learning. You never stop working on your craft.
And so, there's a pot of homemade chicken soup that's been cooking all day on the stove. I made it from the carcass of the Christmas chicken. There's fresh bread from the Middle Eastern grocery, and Sue's favorite bottle of wine to toast in the New Year, if Sue doesn't get called out tonight. We'll snuggle up on the love seat and watch Lonesome Dove, and laugh when Gus cuts the cards with Laurie for a poke, cause that's just the way we are.
And that closes out 2008.
Happy New Year, everyone.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
The morning after...
The Christmas holidays were all that I hoped, and today was the day I chose to face, again, reality.
Not a very pretty sight. Not pretty at all. Back to gathering samples for my portfolio, both the fake leather kind and the online. Back to making a plan of attack, exactly what am I going to do, what do I want to do, and what will I be able to do in this effing economy that seems to be breaking everyone's back.
During Christmas I wanted to keep my head in the sand, which is not typical of me. I've always prided myself with leading with my chin, but you know, this face can't quite take the bruising it used to.
Classes are always a good thing to take when you're looking for work, and I'm scrambling trying to figure out what I can work in, and just importantly what I can afford, and I have to do this before tomorrow because until tomorrow any class can be taken off on my '08 taxes, and that, to me, means money in the bank.
I'm looking at music and acting classes. I think it's time to make that big leap from stage to screen. And music is the other thing I want to be able to work on, now that I have some time. I'm back to playing in those twenty minute spurts that are so helpful--pick up the geetar and play hard for a good 20 minutes. Do that a couple of times of day, focusing on problem areas, and you're bound to improve. Or just play because that's what you do; just like it's just what birds do.
And I've got my list, a floppy little notepad on which I write everything I need to do. Keep busy, that's so important. Years ago I learned that you put everything on, including some easy, no-brainer stuff, but still stuff you want to get done, like make the bed or wash the dishes. It really works, giving you a sense of accomplishment when you scratch it off your list. That way you don't bog down with the big stuff. And whittle the big stuff down into smaller parts. That way you get to cross off more, and get that feeling of accomplishment.
The other thing I do is just quit for the day. I learned a long time ago that you'll never get everything done in one day. Tomorrow will come and that list will still be there; it won't go away. You need the rest and relaxation; just put it out of your mind. It's hard. I'm waking up at the old bewitching hour again. I did last night, woke up around 2:30 and just laid there for hours. The sun was lightening the sky when I finally dozed back to sleep. I didn't want to get up and wake up Sue, so I just laid there and thought.
Not a very pretty sight. Not pretty at all. Back to gathering samples for my portfolio, both the fake leather kind and the online. Back to making a plan of attack, exactly what am I going to do, what do I want to do, and what will I be able to do in this effing economy that seems to be breaking everyone's back.
During Christmas I wanted to keep my head in the sand, which is not typical of me. I've always prided myself with leading with my chin, but you know, this face can't quite take the bruising it used to.
Classes are always a good thing to take when you're looking for work, and I'm scrambling trying to figure out what I can work in, and just importantly what I can afford, and I have to do this before tomorrow because until tomorrow any class can be taken off on my '08 taxes, and that, to me, means money in the bank.
I'm looking at music and acting classes. I think it's time to make that big leap from stage to screen. And music is the other thing I want to be able to work on, now that I have some time. I'm back to playing in those twenty minute spurts that are so helpful--pick up the geetar and play hard for a good 20 minutes. Do that a couple of times of day, focusing on problem areas, and you're bound to improve. Or just play because that's what you do; just like it's just what birds do.
And I've got my list, a floppy little notepad on which I write everything I need to do. Keep busy, that's so important. Years ago I learned that you put everything on, including some easy, no-brainer stuff, but still stuff you want to get done, like make the bed or wash the dishes. It really works, giving you a sense of accomplishment when you scratch it off your list. That way you don't bog down with the big stuff. And whittle the big stuff down into smaller parts. That way you get to cross off more, and get that feeling of accomplishment.
The other thing I do is just quit for the day. I learned a long time ago that you'll never get everything done in one day. Tomorrow will come and that list will still be there; it won't go away. You need the rest and relaxation; just put it out of your mind. It's hard. I'm waking up at the old bewitching hour again. I did last night, woke up around 2:30 and just laid there for hours. The sun was lightening the sky when I finally dozed back to sleep. I didn't want to get up and wake up Sue, so I just laid there and thought.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
I'm out of work--I don't have any free time, and Bernard Madoff
A few years ago, a friend asked me to do something and I told him I'd have to check my schedule to see if I had time. Laughing, he said to me, "You're an out-of-work writer. If you don't have the time, no one does."
Well, that wasn't quite true, but I did see his point. Writers (and actors and artists and musicians and a host of others who have non-traditional, non nine-to-five jobs) don't always look like we're as busy as the rest of the lemmings. But, if I can hold to the rodent metaphor just a bit longer, we're probably busier than most, more like that crazy hamster spinning its wheel than most people would imagine. Most of the time we're working; we're just not necessarily making money.
So, of late, as news of my, ahem, available "free time" gets around, I've had a few invitations to meet some friends during the day. And I hate to be a jerk, but I'm too busy. I still have three stories to file to Cape Cod Life. There's the resume that needs fine-tuning and the samples that need uploading on the Web site (a heckuva lot harder and more complicated than one might imagine; nothing is easy anymore) and there's the business of doing my own IT troubleshooting now, thanks to the good people at HP who don't seem to be able to fix a "communication error." What we do seem to have is a failure to communicate. The Halfway House Club opens tomorrow evening, and that means bearing down there. I have a long list of people I want to contact and meet with and an office to set up.
Plus there are the holidays and everyday life to keep on top of. Today it snowed, or something. There's cold, slippery crap outside right now, and I still haven't gotten the snow tires put on my truck.
I guess the thing is, I've never been one to just sit. I can't sit on the beach and just bake in the sun. My oldest still remembers me taking her hand and going for long walks on the beach during summers on the Cape, saying, let's just see what's around that bend. Forget TV; I don't understand how anyone can just sit and watch. I always need something in my hands--a book, a guitar, or a wooden spoon in the kitchen--or I always need to be working towards something. It's just the way I am. I like being busy. And I always find things to keep me occupied, to the point where I wonder where the hours in the day went.
I suspect this trait will keep me active in my old age, keep my brain alert, or what passes for alert with my brain.
An aside, I'm also keeping up with the story in the news about Bernard Madoff, the Wall Street investor who is accused of cheating investors out of $50 billion. I interviewed Madoff back in the late '80s. His firm then was headquartered in Jersey City with a view of the World Trade Towers, and used the computers that my company sold. Part of my job was to interview the company's top customers and write business stories. I remember him being very personable and likable, but also a brusque man. He had that edge that you would expect from someone who likes money and making it, and like some successful men, you got the idea you didn't want to get on his mean side. I say some, because over the course of my career I've had the pleasure of meeting and talking with some of the most successful people in business, and many successful people are kind, generous, and gracious. In this country we're innocent until proven guilty, but given the news of the past year on Wall Street, one wonders just how many are going to be brought to trial, and how many are going to get away with murder.
Well, that wasn't quite true, but I did see his point. Writers (and actors and artists and musicians and a host of others who have non-traditional, non nine-to-five jobs) don't always look like we're as busy as the rest of the lemmings. But, if I can hold to the rodent metaphor just a bit longer, we're probably busier than most, more like that crazy hamster spinning its wheel than most people would imagine. Most of the time we're working; we're just not necessarily making money.
So, of late, as news of my, ahem, available "free time" gets around, I've had a few invitations to meet some friends during the day. And I hate to be a jerk, but I'm too busy. I still have three stories to file to Cape Cod Life. There's the resume that needs fine-tuning and the samples that need uploading on the Web site (a heckuva lot harder and more complicated than one might imagine; nothing is easy anymore) and there's the business of doing my own IT troubleshooting now, thanks to the good people at HP who don't seem to be able to fix a "communication error." What we do seem to have is a failure to communicate. The Halfway House Club opens tomorrow evening, and that means bearing down there. I have a long list of people I want to contact and meet with and an office to set up.
Plus there are the holidays and everyday life to keep on top of. Today it snowed, or something. There's cold, slippery crap outside right now, and I still haven't gotten the snow tires put on my truck.
I guess the thing is, I've never been one to just sit. I can't sit on the beach and just bake in the sun. My oldest still remembers me taking her hand and going for long walks on the beach during summers on the Cape, saying, let's just see what's around that bend. Forget TV; I don't understand how anyone can just sit and watch. I always need something in my hands--a book, a guitar, or a wooden spoon in the kitchen--or I always need to be working towards something. It's just the way I am. I like being busy. And I always find things to keep me occupied, to the point where I wonder where the hours in the day went.
I suspect this trait will keep me active in my old age, keep my brain alert, or what passes for alert with my brain.
An aside, I'm also keeping up with the story in the news about Bernard Madoff, the Wall Street investor who is accused of cheating investors out of $50 billion. I interviewed Madoff back in the late '80s. His firm then was headquartered in Jersey City with a view of the World Trade Towers, and used the computers that my company sold. Part of my job was to interview the company's top customers and write business stories. I remember him being very personable and likable, but also a brusque man. He had that edge that you would expect from someone who likes money and making it, and like some successful men, you got the idea you didn't want to get on his mean side. I say some, because over the course of my career I've had the pleasure of meeting and talking with some of the most successful people in business, and many successful people are kind, generous, and gracious. In this country we're innocent until proven guilty, but given the news of the past year on Wall Street, one wonders just how many are going to be brought to trial, and how many are going to get away with murder.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Really, don't cry for me...
Inevitably when I tell someone I got laid off the first response is, sorry.
I get it. The loss of steady income in this economy is scary. And the job prospects? Well, things do look pretty grim, don't they? Especially for a 53-year-old writer. Not that there's age discrimination in the working world. Especially in youth-oriented marketing departments and ad agencies. Oh no. That would be illegal.
But the thing I keep saying to people is that I was prepared for this, the writing was on the wall despite whatever I or anyone else was being told. And this is the third time in my career this has happened. You learn over time how to deal with this situation. My advice to anyone nowadays is get used to this. I forgot how many different jobs "experts" now predict college-educated people entering the workforce now will hold over the course of their lives. Whatever the number, I know it's a bunch.
I do appreciate the kind words, though. And the sympathy. Hearing them is a little like being Tom Sawyer listening in on his own funeral. But for all my friends out there, I'm doing okay. Sue and I are doing okay. My kids know it: I one tough son-of-a-bitch. (Thanks, Dad.) I only look cute and adorable. I really do like a challenge, and by God the Creator really handed me one this time.
I think the most important thing I learned from being laid off the first time back in the '90s was that my job does not define me. I was devastated that time. My whole being, all my feelings of self-worth and accomplishment revolved around my job. My feelings of worth are no longer tied to being a corporate writer any more than they are to me being a creative writer, businessperson, actor, or musician. These are things I do to enjoy my life. I write, act, engage in the business world. But all these things are just a top layer. I almost want to say window dressing, but that denigrates them a bit. They are the outcome of what lies below them.
The real me isn't a writer or actor or businessperson. The part of me that gets me through these times are parts that are curious, daring, risk-taking, fun-loving, and caring. These are the real parts of me. I write and act and photograph because they let me explore and learn about the world and life, which I am so curious about. Of course I need money and through business I earn money, but just as important as the money is, I also like that business teaches me so much about how the world runs, and how people operate and interact.
The senior exec who gave me the news said that we were going to have a difficult conversation. I wanted to say to him, are you going to tell me I have cancer? Are you going to take away my kids? Losing a job is hard, but there are lots of worse things in life to lose. Over the course of my lifetime, I've lost a lot more than jobs. There are even parts of me, deep inside, that are gone. So a job? Well....
And I keep saying, I'm going to fight this from intruding on my life. Yeah, I'm waking up in the middle of the night, I'm sure from nerves. But there are so many other things in my life, big and small. Coming up are Christmas with my daughters, for the first time in maybe seven years. Tell me that's not cool. The Halfway House Club opens Thursday night, a project I am very excited about. Right now there is a big pot of chicken soup cooking on the stove, making the apartment smell so great. SRV is cranking on the stereo. I'm barefoot, wearing an old pair of jeans (well, that's nothing new) and a favorite old shirt. There are wonderful things in this world, big and small, and to let the loss of a job stand between me and experiencing the world and life is just wrong.
When I was going through probably the toughest time in my life, I told myself I didn't want my heart to get hard. Yesterday I was in Park Street Station, and while waiting for a train that didn't come (I eventually just went upstairs and walked to my meeting over on Boylston Street) I was lucky enough to be able to listen to a busker there. His name was John Gerard, and listening I realized he had a really sweet voice. I had one dollar in my pocket, which I threw in his case. (One more lonely dollar, as The Low Anthem sings.) If you let this shit get to you, you'll never hear the new singer. You'll never see what makes you you.
I get it. The loss of steady income in this economy is scary. And the job prospects? Well, things do look pretty grim, don't they? Especially for a 53-year-old writer. Not that there's age discrimination in the working world. Especially in youth-oriented marketing departments and ad agencies. Oh no. That would be illegal.
But the thing I keep saying to people is that I was prepared for this, the writing was on the wall despite whatever I or anyone else was being told. And this is the third time in my career this has happened. You learn over time how to deal with this situation. My advice to anyone nowadays is get used to this. I forgot how many different jobs "experts" now predict college-educated people entering the workforce now will hold over the course of their lives. Whatever the number, I know it's a bunch.
I do appreciate the kind words, though. And the sympathy. Hearing them is a little like being Tom Sawyer listening in on his own funeral. But for all my friends out there, I'm doing okay. Sue and I are doing okay. My kids know it: I one tough son-of-a-bitch. (Thanks, Dad.) I only look cute and adorable. I really do like a challenge, and by God the Creator really handed me one this time.
I think the most important thing I learned from being laid off the first time back in the '90s was that my job does not define me. I was devastated that time. My whole being, all my feelings of self-worth and accomplishment revolved around my job. My feelings of worth are no longer tied to being a corporate writer any more than they are to me being a creative writer, businessperson, actor, or musician. These are things I do to enjoy my life. I write, act, engage in the business world. But all these things are just a top layer. I almost want to say window dressing, but that denigrates them a bit. They are the outcome of what lies below them.
The real me isn't a writer or actor or businessperson. The part of me that gets me through these times are parts that are curious, daring, risk-taking, fun-loving, and caring. These are the real parts of me. I write and act and photograph because they let me explore and learn about the world and life, which I am so curious about. Of course I need money and through business I earn money, but just as important as the money is, I also like that business teaches me so much about how the world runs, and how people operate and interact.
The senior exec who gave me the news said that we were going to have a difficult conversation. I wanted to say to him, are you going to tell me I have cancer? Are you going to take away my kids? Losing a job is hard, but there are lots of worse things in life to lose. Over the course of my lifetime, I've lost a lot more than jobs. There are even parts of me, deep inside, that are gone. So a job? Well....
And I keep saying, I'm going to fight this from intruding on my life. Yeah, I'm waking up in the middle of the night, I'm sure from nerves. But there are so many other things in my life, big and small. Coming up are Christmas with my daughters, for the first time in maybe seven years. Tell me that's not cool. The Halfway House Club opens Thursday night, a project I am very excited about. Right now there is a big pot of chicken soup cooking on the stove, making the apartment smell so great. SRV is cranking on the stereo. I'm barefoot, wearing an old pair of jeans (well, that's nothing new) and a favorite old shirt. There are wonderful things in this world, big and small, and to let the loss of a job stand between me and experiencing the world and life is just wrong.
When I was going through probably the toughest time in my life, I told myself I didn't want my heart to get hard. Yesterday I was in Park Street Station, and while waiting for a train that didn't come (I eventually just went upstairs and walked to my meeting over on Boylston Street) I was lucky enough to be able to listen to a busker there. His name was John Gerard, and listening I realized he had a really sweet voice. I had one dollar in my pocket, which I threw in his case. (One more lonely dollar, as The Low Anthem sings.) If you let this shit get to you, you'll never hear the new singer. You'll never see what makes you you.
Monday, December 15, 2008
The weight of unemployment
Today I got up and walked around. One foot in front of the other. Had a meeting at a hiring agency, someplace I worked for when I was freelancing. The reality has more than set in, and I think one of the reasons is way back in the '90s we--the working stiffs of the world--were told to get it into our heads that we were working for ourselves. So, from there on in I just basically looked at my employer as one big client, and I was in business for myself. It's not a bad viewpoint.
And the thing is, when you have to sit down and explain to someone what you do, what you've been doing the past two years, and what you know, it gives you a good insight that you are--and I am--not going to be destitute. I know my business, and I'm good at it. All I need and want is the chance. The scary part is wondering if there is any work out there at all. The first business to dry up is always writing. Everyone knows they can't do Flash, but everyone since the age of six thinks they can write.
There are words that they put on the page, so that must be okay. They even feel kind of proud of themselves. But together are the words persuasive? Interesting? Think about it, you're still reading this, aren't you? Why? Uh, because I can write and I can write in an interesting way that keeps people reading.
Still, the weight of it all hangs over my head. Once again I woke up in the middle of the night last night, and not wanting to wake Sue tossing and turning, got up and slouched on the couch and read a bit.
"Sometimes Po Campo sang in Spanish. He had a low, throaty voice that always seemed like it was about to die for lack of breath. The songs bothered some of the men, they were so sad.
'Po, you're a jolly fellow, how come you only sing about death?' Soupy asked. Po had a little rattle, plus his low throaty voice, made it a curious effect.
The sound could make the hairs stand up on Pea Eye's neck. 'That's right, Po. You do sing sad, for a happy man,' Pea Eye observed once, as the old man shook his gourd.
'I don't sing about myself,' Campo said. 'I sing about life. I am happy, but life is sad. The songs don't belong to me.'"
Well, still, when I was putting on music today, I shied away from country. I went through a point in my life where I just wallowed in country music. It was like picking a sore day after day after day. Oh, my wretched life.
Today I put on some Shakira unplugged. With that wild woman singing in Spanish, there's no way you can be depressed.
And I keep a running to-do list. Keep busy. There's plenty to do. Step by step. Brick by brick. That's about the only way to do it.
And the thing is, when you have to sit down and explain to someone what you do, what you've been doing the past two years, and what you know, it gives you a good insight that you are--and I am--not going to be destitute. I know my business, and I'm good at it. All I need and want is the chance. The scary part is wondering if there is any work out there at all. The first business to dry up is always writing. Everyone knows they can't do Flash, but everyone since the age of six thinks they can write.
There are words that they put on the page, so that must be okay. They even feel kind of proud of themselves. But together are the words persuasive? Interesting? Think about it, you're still reading this, aren't you? Why? Uh, because I can write and I can write in an interesting way that keeps people reading.
Still, the weight of it all hangs over my head. Once again I woke up in the middle of the night last night, and not wanting to wake Sue tossing and turning, got up and slouched on the couch and read a bit.
"Sometimes Po Campo sang in Spanish. He had a low, throaty voice that always seemed like it was about to die for lack of breath. The songs bothered some of the men, they were so sad.
'Po, you're a jolly fellow, how come you only sing about death?' Soupy asked. Po had a little rattle, plus his low throaty voice, made it a curious effect.
The sound could make the hairs stand up on Pea Eye's neck. 'That's right, Po. You do sing sad, for a happy man,' Pea Eye observed once, as the old man shook his gourd.
'I don't sing about myself,' Campo said. 'I sing about life. I am happy, but life is sad. The songs don't belong to me.'"
Well, still, when I was putting on music today, I shied away from country. I went through a point in my life where I just wallowed in country music. It was like picking a sore day after day after day. Oh, my wretched life.
Today I put on some Shakira unplugged. With that wild woman singing in Spanish, there's no way you can be depressed.
And I keep a running to-do list. Keep busy. There's plenty to do. Step by step. Brick by brick. That's about the only way to do it.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Laid off--again
Ouch. Well, not really. Seriously, after the third time in my career, you kind of get used to you. It doesn't hit you as hard as it did the first time.
This time, though, I was prepared. I mean, the handwriting was on the wall. And despite all the reassurances by staffing (we're looking for a spot for you; that's what they get paid the big bucks to say) you know when you're billing zero...zilch...nada...they're not going to keep you around based on your good looks. At least not these looks.
Sue and I even talked about whether or not we should have gone to Arizona, given the precarious nature of my work. The money I would have been given for the two weeks of accrued vacation time, plus the hard cash in the savings account that we had saved for the trip might have come in handy for the long, cold winter of this depression. (Yes, I said it: worldwide depression, too; let's not mince words, okay? Again, the politicians are paid big bucks to say one thing when it's another.) But we figured we should live, and not let the problems of the world get in our way. When they're lowering us in our graves, nobody is going to say we shouldn't have gone.
And we talked a bit in Arizona that if or when I did get laid off what we would do. I'd try to get as much freelance as I could and work on acting. Before I was hired by the agency I was freelancing and acting for five years, and by the time I went back to a legit job I was doing okay for myself.
Like I said, it gets easier, especially when you're prepared. The first time I had drank the kool-aid. Back then, my job defined who I was, accomplished corporate writer, career businessman, provider, and it getting axed put a hole in me at the water line. I had nowhere to jump. After that, I swore I'd never let me or my family be vulnerable again.
The second time was a pretty day in June--June 11 to be exact. This time it was December 11. What is with that number 11, anyway? I didn't even listen to the director as he let me go. All I know is I stared out the window over his shoulder and thought to myself, what a gorgeous day for a bike ride. It was, and I rode about twenty miles that day, and thought, I always wanted to be on my own; when I'm eighty and look back and didn't do it I'd have regrets. So, back in 2002, with the economy in the dumper (but not this bad, admittedly) I started my own business with no clients. By the time digital central called me and asked if I wanted to work on an automotive account, I had a nice little stable of clients plus a couple of acting gigs that kept me busy. And yeah, it's true: When you're working for yourself you get to work half days. And the great thing is, you get to choose which 12 hours you work.
So, this time around when I got the call to come to the conference room, I pretty much knew what was up. You know, I even felt sorry for the two on whose shoulders this job fell. It's a dirty job. I liked where I worked, and I liked the people. They weren't responsible for this economic shit show we got going right now.
And I got some nice goodbyes and even a couple of hugs from some of the people I worked with. I think it hurt them more than it hurt me. There is a bit of survivor's guilt that happens to people, and for some I'm not sure they're prepared for what lies ahead for them as they continue in their same jobs and when the axe finally falls on their heads. I learned a long time ago that my work does not define me. And just like there are certain people who I refuse to give power to over my life, a series of events is not going to control my feelings or actions. Am I nervous? Of course, especially about money. I'd be an idiot not to be. This is a worldwide depression. It is. Trust me out here.
But you always got to look on the bright side. I missed the freedom I had freelancing. I like being my own boss. I like knowing, at the end of the day, that if something went well or something screwed up, I was the one responsible, and no one else. I don't like someone setting my schedule for me. Life is easier for Sue and me when I have freedom--to make dinner for my sweetie, pick up the dry cleaning, do laundry. And my old buddy, Bob, gets his playmate back. I've had that dog since he was twelve weeks old. He's eleven and a half now, and for all but the last two years he and I were inseparable. He'd even go on client meetings with me. (Remind me someday to blog about the one at Eastern Mountain Sports.) Today, like old times, he and I drove down to Hyannis and interviewed an artist for a profile for Cape Cod Life. Now it's a little after five on a Friday, and I'm sitting on the floor blogging, with a beer by my side and Bob snoozing on the other side of the room, like the Aussie that he is. (They're not cuddly dogs, just one reason I like them so much. They're their own dogs.)
And one last note: Sue and I live pretty simply. I see real fear in people's faces. Yeah, we're nervous, but when Wall Street crashed we kind of looked at each other and said, we don't have any money to lose anyway. I've been working hard to be debt-free. All my debt is consolidated on two credit cards--one with 0% interest and the other with 1.9% interest. I've been slowly paying this off, and one of my biggest fears is that I'll start picking up debt again. I want to leave this planet owing no one. My pickup is beat up, but it's paid for. I don't have a mortgage, a car loan, or a second home. Sue and I don't even have a television. I see other people and know their lives are screwed down tight. And that's what scary.
More to come. Every day will be bring something new, I know that. Like the Chinese say, may we live in interesting times.
This time, though, I was prepared. I mean, the handwriting was on the wall. And despite all the reassurances by staffing (we're looking for a spot for you; that's what they get paid the big bucks to say) you know when you're billing zero...zilch...nada...they're not going to keep you around based on your good looks. At least not these looks.
Sue and I even talked about whether or not we should have gone to Arizona, given the precarious nature of my work. The money I would have been given for the two weeks of accrued vacation time, plus the hard cash in the savings account that we had saved for the trip might have come in handy for the long, cold winter of this depression. (Yes, I said it: worldwide depression, too; let's not mince words, okay? Again, the politicians are paid big bucks to say one thing when it's another.) But we figured we should live, and not let the problems of the world get in our way. When they're lowering us in our graves, nobody is going to say we shouldn't have gone.
And we talked a bit in Arizona that if or when I did get laid off what we would do. I'd try to get as much freelance as I could and work on acting. Before I was hired by the agency I was freelancing and acting for five years, and by the time I went back to a legit job I was doing okay for myself.
Like I said, it gets easier, especially when you're prepared. The first time I had drank the kool-aid. Back then, my job defined who I was, accomplished corporate writer, career businessman, provider, and it getting axed put a hole in me at the water line. I had nowhere to jump. After that, I swore I'd never let me or my family be vulnerable again.
The second time was a pretty day in June--June 11 to be exact. This time it was December 11. What is with that number 11, anyway? I didn't even listen to the director as he let me go. All I know is I stared out the window over his shoulder and thought to myself, what a gorgeous day for a bike ride. It was, and I rode about twenty miles that day, and thought, I always wanted to be on my own; when I'm eighty and look back and didn't do it I'd have regrets. So, back in 2002, with the economy in the dumper (but not this bad, admittedly) I started my own business with no clients. By the time digital central called me and asked if I wanted to work on an automotive account, I had a nice little stable of clients plus a couple of acting gigs that kept me busy. And yeah, it's true: When you're working for yourself you get to work half days. And the great thing is, you get to choose which 12 hours you work.
So, this time around when I got the call to come to the conference room, I pretty much knew what was up. You know, I even felt sorry for the two on whose shoulders this job fell. It's a dirty job. I liked where I worked, and I liked the people. They weren't responsible for this economic shit show we got going right now.
And I got some nice goodbyes and even a couple of hugs from some of the people I worked with. I think it hurt them more than it hurt me. There is a bit of survivor's guilt that happens to people, and for some I'm not sure they're prepared for what lies ahead for them as they continue in their same jobs and when the axe finally falls on their heads. I learned a long time ago that my work does not define me. And just like there are certain people who I refuse to give power to over my life, a series of events is not going to control my feelings or actions. Am I nervous? Of course, especially about money. I'd be an idiot not to be. This is a worldwide depression. It is. Trust me out here.
But you always got to look on the bright side. I missed the freedom I had freelancing. I like being my own boss. I like knowing, at the end of the day, that if something went well or something screwed up, I was the one responsible, and no one else. I don't like someone setting my schedule for me. Life is easier for Sue and me when I have freedom--to make dinner for my sweetie, pick up the dry cleaning, do laundry. And my old buddy, Bob, gets his playmate back. I've had that dog since he was twelve weeks old. He's eleven and a half now, and for all but the last two years he and I were inseparable. He'd even go on client meetings with me. (Remind me someday to blog about the one at Eastern Mountain Sports.) Today, like old times, he and I drove down to Hyannis and interviewed an artist for a profile for Cape Cod Life. Now it's a little after five on a Friday, and I'm sitting on the floor blogging, with a beer by my side and Bob snoozing on the other side of the room, like the Aussie that he is. (They're not cuddly dogs, just one reason I like them so much. They're their own dogs.)
And one last note: Sue and I live pretty simply. I see real fear in people's faces. Yeah, we're nervous, but when Wall Street crashed we kind of looked at each other and said, we don't have any money to lose anyway. I've been working hard to be debt-free. All my debt is consolidated on two credit cards--one with 0% interest and the other with 1.9% interest. I've been slowly paying this off, and one of my biggest fears is that I'll start picking up debt again. I want to leave this planet owing no one. My pickup is beat up, but it's paid for. I don't have a mortgage, a car loan, or a second home. Sue and I don't even have a television. I see other people and know their lives are screwed down tight. And that's what scary.
More to come. Every day will be bring something new, I know that. Like the Chinese say, may we live in interesting times.
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