Applying for unemployment benefits last month was one of my least favorite experiences of all time, ranking right up there on my list of things to avoid like the plague between certain Newcastle City Council members and elective nasal surgery.
All three are painful, embarrassing and all sorts of ugly.
So ugly, in fact, that I barely asked about it when I first heard my job might be eliminated. Our finance manager mentioned it one day shortly after budget cuts had been presented, and I just nodded my head and said, “Oh, I really appreciate that, but I’m sure I won’t need it.”
Because clearly, I was delusional.
Despite all reports to the contrary, I fully expected to find a new job by January. It had never taken too long before. After all, I have tons of experience and a college degree – stellar references, a great resume and a track record a mile long. My mistake was ignoring the nine-hundred-thirty-two bazillion other people in the state of Washington who do, too.
It was presumptuous, I admit. But unemployment was just not a possibility I grew up to expect. Ever.
My family’s tenet is fairly straightforward: Go to college, graduate, get a job, get married, have babies. In that order. Work hard, do your best and continue to have a job until you retire.
If you leave a job, you find a new one. But you always work.
Not everyone in the family followed this path, but those who did worked their butts off. Mom became a nurse, my uncle a lawyer, my aunt a teacher; grandpa was a pilot in World War II who later worked around the world as civil engineer. For each of us, what we do is a fundamental definition of who we are and it’s the No. 1 reason I’m lousy at maintaining any sort of work/life balance.
With the last 30 days of my employment dwindling through December and not a single interview (let alone an offer) in sight, I buried myself in work and job applications – leaving thoughts of unemployment and all it might infer for a day far, far in the future.
It wasn’t until mid-January that I finally admitted this search is going to take much longer than I’d like. I went online, read all the materials and submitted the paperwork. Surprisingly, it was a quick, straightforward and convenient process. Which, in my bachelor-degree wisdom, I messed up on the first try.
As a former customer support employee, I have to brag to you about what happened next because it floored me so much, it shocked me right out of all the angst-ridden unemployment.
I called the help line. I punched in a few digits. A recording gave me a wait time for speaking to an actual person. It took my phone number so I wouldn’t have to wait on hold. Then it called me back. And in less than five minutes, they fixed my problem! I can’t even reach my bank that fast, much less talk to someone who knows my name and is willing to speak to me like I’m not a walking ATM.
I called that help line armed with a stack of paperwork, fully expecting to spend the next 45 minutes detailing my job search, justifying my position and getting berated for being some sort of slacker.
But the lady who answered was straightforward and polite. She took care of business without any judgment, getting us both on our way in the briefest of time.
Perhaps I should do the same.
