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Advice to the Jobless
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When you live in a world where what you do defines who you are, unemployment can spur an identity crisis. I should know. I'm having
one right now.
What are the symptoms?
For starters, you devise new ways of responding to the question, "What do you do?" Like: "I'm going through a transition," or "I've got a few freelancing gigs," or the ever-popular "I'm in between jobs."
Then you start telling bald-faced lies. "Yeah, Mom I'm writing for the local newspaper ... No, you can't subscribe. They don't deliver outside California." And pretty soon you begin to believe your delusions.
Your pool game improves. You audition to be on Jeopardy. Not long after, you begin to haggle with the devil over the price of your soul.
You receive unsolicited advice from family, friends and bartenders who you thought knew you well. Here's a tip that's bound to come in handy: When a friend offers to loan you the book, "What Color Is Your Parachute?" — and believe me, someone will offer — say, "I've already jumped out of the plane. I don't have time for your games."
You consider alternative avenues, like interning at the White House, joining the circus, or driving a Zamboni.
You start believing that your problems are bigger than everyone else's.
So how do you avoid the mid-20s, inter-job identity crisis? How do you get your dream job? I know what you're thinking: "Laurel, why should we ask you? You obviously don't know." You're right. I don't. So let's look at some of the advice I've gotten from my "supportive" loved ones. There's the practical advice: "Y'know, you could expand your search and look beyond the publishing world. I mean what about P.R. jobs? Or advertising? Or technical writing, or telemarketing?"
There's the cynical advice: "Remember: Once you take an admin job you'll never get out. Never never never (echo) never never never." The I'm-on-your-side approach: "What do you mean you didn't get into Grad School?! Why not?" (Note: This approach is well-intentioned, but not very effective.) The free-to-be-you-and-me advice: "Don't sell your soul. Do what feels right."
And of course, there's the desperate suggestion: "Your father could always ask your Uncle Bob if he'd let you work for him on the farm."
But hold off on the farm idea — you don't want to do that. Not with the way your pool game is coming along...
Laurel Druley writes for a local newspaper in California, but you can't subscribe. She's available for employment...
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