Unemployment in a City Where Your Work Feels Like Your Worth

Photo by Christina @ wocintechchat.com on Unsplash

I buckled my seatbelt (a habit I reignite every time I go anywhere that isn’t New York) and settled in for the short ride from LaGuardia to my apartment in Astoria.

I took a deep breath.

I didn’t have anywhere to be. I was coming back from a wedding in Chicago and, out of habit, I booked the first flight back Monday morning so I’d be able to go straight to the office.

Only I didn’t have an office anymore.

Five weeks before, the parent company I worked for let us know that its vision for the future didn’t include any of us. The executives gave us severance, any bonus pay we earned, and five weeks in the office to “tie up loose ends,” and that was that.

After the shock wore off (this was, in fact, my first rodeo), I speedily updated my resume and dusted off my cover letter templates. I had been on the job hunt exactly 91 days before, so I was in a seemingly “good” place.

As everyone reading this knows, five weeks is rarely enough time to get a new job, but I tried to perfectly coordinate it so I wouldn’t be out of work — and more importantly, so I wouldn’t have the dreaded “resume gap” college career counselors warn you about.

As each week passed, I felt my chest get tighter and tighter with anxiety. I wasn’t going to have a job in time.

I dreaded filing for unemployment. COBRA? Forget about it.

I was embarrassed. Scared. Worried that I wouldn’t be able to make rent. Worried I’d lose my apartment, my livelihood, and everything I’d worked so hard to build over the past three years.

Not to mention, I had just transitioned into a new career, and 91 days of “experience” doesn’t really sell that you know what you’re talking about. So, as you can imagine, I worried about that too. Would I have to go back to working in a field I didn’t love?

Those five weeks were miserable. Everyone was sad that we wouldn’t be working together anymore, and the communal anxiety made the office — once a fun space with group lunches, coffee outings, and birthday celebrations — feel like a morgue.

Finally, my last day came and went and I ventured into the unknown (although there really wasn’t a part of me that was “longing” to go there).

This photo was taken one day after I received a job offer at Meural, and I have to say the past four months have been wonderful. I was fortunate enough to have an amazing team, an incredible + supportive manager (@poppysaranne), and the flexibility I needed to get through this thing called life. As many of you know, a few weeks ago, our parent company shifted gears and most of us (including myself) were laid off. Today’s our last day in the office, and while I’m so excited for whatever life has in store for me, I want to remember this day and this smile for a little longer. If you made it this far, leave me a note on how you think I should spend my severance (jokes only!)

The first two weeks of unemployment were even worse.

I didn’t have a computer (I ended up asking my parents to loan me the money to buy a new one so I didn’t have to choose between paying rent and buying a laptop, which yes, I realize is privileged — don’t worry, I grew up with more than enough risk factors, thank you).

Now, this might seem trivial (I can hear readers now: “Why didn’t she just use the computers at the library?”), but for my job, a resume built on Microsoft Word is out of the question — I needed consistent access to Adobe Creative Suite.

Once I got the computer bit down, I finally filed for unemployment, took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and waited.

At this point, I had imagined that a cartoon black hole would appear beneath my feet and I would be sent to Loser Land™, but alas, every idea we have about success as a society is a construct. Ha!

Anyway, yes, nothing happened, life continued, and I still have yet to face repercussions for filing for unemployment beyond having to reconcile with my own personal feelings of shame.

Once a week, I would confront the fact that I still didn’t have a job despite all my efforts, hit submit, feel a pang of gratitude for having freelance clients and for the previous jobs I’d worked that contributed to unemployment benefits, and move on with my day.

During this time, I took phone interviews, hit the “apply” button on LinkedIn more times than I can count, scrolled aimlessly through AngelList, Built In, Dreamers and Doers, Scouted, and Tech Ladies — I even dared to explore the realms of Indeed and Zip Recruiter.

I subscribed to daily job drop newsletters, looked at temp jobs, and even considered moving to Chicago and ditching the city altogether (!).

Something I noticed that surprised me was that being laid off wasn’t the disqualifying factor I thought it’d be. Recruiters and hiring managers were nothing but understanding and considerate after I explained why my last role only lasted three months.

At first, I found it hard to fill the time I wasn’t spending applying and working on application materials, but over time, I created a new normal for myself.

Once a week, I went hiking upstate to treat myself and to spend some time in nature. It made up for having to be stingy during the rest of the week.

I also made sure to leave my apartment every day, both for a change of scenery and to keep moving.

I went to coffee shops, the library, and the park — I even took advantage of the Noguchi Museum’s monthly free admission day (a luxury I’ve never made time for even though I live a few blocks away).

It got to the point that I started wondering why I was so fixated on working full-time in an office 40 hours a week.

The freelance life wasn’t bad. I hadn’t dipped into my savings (TY, unemployment!), I was still able to pay rent and see my friends, and I had the opportunity to take on projects I never had time for.

It made me more open-minded about work and what it means to be productive.

It also helped me rethink my fears about losing job security and prioritizing job security over workplace culture, fulfillment, and other elements of the modern career.

I should also note here that I only have to take care of myself right now. I don’t have children or pets, I don’t own any assets beyond a tragic “investment account,” and I live on a month-to-month lease. I have a lot of privileges due to the choices I’ve made and my upbringing.

Right now, it’s April of 2020, and I don’t need to tell you the world is in chaos.

I’m working a full-time role that I’m lucky enough to do from home and I have a supportive team and adequate work/life balance.

Many are not so lucky.

The most important thing to remember in times like these is that nothing is permanent. Everything changes, and nothing stays the same. This is merely a moment in time.

I could find myself in a situation that’s very similar to the one I was in six months ago, but now I’m not afraid to apply for unemployment and I’m not afraid of losing stability. I know that even if the worst happens, I have the emotional strength I need to get through it — we all do.

In times of destabilization, we find new modes of stability.

We find new pathways toward the future. We innovate. We create. We explore new ideas.

If you find yourself losing hope in the future, find your support system and use it. Call the friend you’ve been avoiding. Start a garden on your roof. Try a new recipe. Take care of yourself and show up for those around you.

We’re all in this together, and I hear careers don’t exist in the afterlife, so at the very least, we have that to look forward to.