Unemployment Blues: To Be and Not to Be

If the latest data are to be believed, or perhaps more accurately taken as a general guide, unemployment afflicts over ten percent of the American workforce. But is it fair to call it an affliction? If it is, then we have an epidemic. But how should the unemployment experience be cast? Let me share some personal history.

First, I recall collecting in the late Seventies. Back then, one generally reported to large impersonal offices and waited for hours to be interviewed — or stood in glacial lines till a state worker was available, hopefully with one’s check. When one finally encountered the frazzled grunt, he or she would invariably peer over with beady eyes glaring as if you were the known pickpocket or graffiti artists who’d been terrorizing the town.

By the Eighties, a decade largely defined by Ronald Reagan, things were still weird. His world, or his redneck version of it, was marked by saber-rattling, Soviet-baiting, and homey televised anecdotes about welfare cheats. Collecting unemployment was widely perceived as falling somewhere between passing out subversive literature on Main Street and robbing banks. But if one was fortunate, one could pick up a regular check — usually enough for two bags of groceries and a fillup, or more likely a new bike tire. But first one had to exit said facility without drawing undue attention to oneself. Otherwise, one might be accosted by a prying bureaucrat with additional questions or worse — directed to a hearing room where the lurid details of one’s job separation could be tape-recorded for some BS (Bureaucratic Supervisor). In short, the system was feudal, and one was the serf. I was thereby tempted to snatch any available work, regardless of how odious or degrading. But alas, like today, there was hardly any.

By comparison, collecting today appears to take place in some Golden Age. The social stigma has waned — but hardly disappeared — and being granted benefits is generally easier. Still, when collecting I always feel an enhanced solidarity with ”Gregor Samsa” from Kafka’s classic tale, “Metamorphosis.” Maybe it’s just me, but a recurring and almost insurmountable wall of incomprehension always pops up between me and almost everyone else I know; friends and kin even. And, alas, one can be sometimes blind-sided by associates one thought were cool. Overall then, being made to feel like a very large and useless cockroach is not much fun.

My solution? Be careful who you confide in. Since being unemployed often entails multiple tasks like finding contacts, identifying suitable (or any) work, reinventing onself, transitioning to another field, identifying resources, learning new skills, and of course, trying to forge a positive outlook, one may sometimes feel quite fragile. Then, one has to really befriend oneself. And since self-doubt is a formidable adversary, it must be faced — and even over time, vanquished. But bad days can still creep in. But we like a challenge, eh?

Recall the words of Eleanor Roosevelt, “Whether you think you can or you can’t, you’re right.” And Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” warned the mind could make “a hell of heaven and a heaven of hell.” In short, one’s thoughts are crucial. So be kind to yourself. Mobilize every personal, social, vocational, and related resource you’ll need to prevail. Doesn’t one  plan and set goals and alternate plans before embarking on a journey? So use the same techniques between jobs. The bottom line is this: Neither the trip nor unemployment itself will last forever. Whatever it takes, get through it. Learn. Move on.