Chances are you know, are related to or are one of the many hundreds of thousands of Americans whose jobs were eliminated last year. In my ample spare time as a digit in this statistic, I am conducting a study on how the unemployed are treated by those who know them best.
My unfunded research began when I realized how rarely I am greeted with “How are you?” Once I thought the question meaningless, akin to a burp; now it appears to be said, or not said, with forethought. I do hear how “good” I look, but the comment hints of the slightest surprise. The absence of “Have a good day” is refreshing, but still cause for worry. It could be worse than I thought. I may not only be unemployed; I might be very ill.
Obviously, friends and acquaintances are either reacting with touching sensitivity or are in utter fear of hearing how I am. This is not surprising, considering the pot of emotions stirred up by the very thought of unemployment. Forget today’s “eliminated,” “downsized…… reorganized”; forget even “terminated” and “laid off.” Think about the implications of the most common statement of all, “I lost my job.” In a time of touted and refuted recessions, how dare anyone be careless enough to “lose” a job? The phrase smacks of personal guilt; at the very least it hints of the onset of middle-age dementia, as in “Where did I leave my my car keys?” and “Did I turn off the stove?”
The unemployed haven’t “lost” their jobs; they know where they are. The jobs are now overseas or they are one of the balls juggled and dropped in union-contract negotiations. Very often these lost jobs can be found listed proudly as “efficiency accomplishments” in the resumes of corporate executives.
Ending a job relationship is not unlike severing a mortal one. “Losing a loved one” is a gentle phrase; it implies things may be set right again, that if you managed to look in the right place, you might find the person who has gone. I assure you that I didn’t “lose” my dear parents. I know exactly where I left them, even if I am less certain about their spiritual whereabouts at this moment. So I haven’t “lost” my job. My job died.
Treat the unemployed as though there were a death in the family. You can aid the jobless in all stages of mourning. Encourage them to explain and describe how this terrible thing happened and allow them to rant and rave about life’s unfairness. The final step of acceptance is networking, but more about that later. Don’t be afraid to get involved. I assure you that unemployment is in itself not contagious. Nor is it a social disease; the fear of it is.
Telephone, visit, make lunch dates. In the last care choose the scene judiciously. It may not be wise to suggest a place near the office or an upscale Yuppie hangout. And most important, avoid cliches. “When God closes a door, he opens a window” and “Behind every cloud…” may not be what the newly unemployed is seeking just yet. Nor does he or she want to hear about your neighbor who just found a job after 22 months. Such anecdotes may be well-meaning (“I just want to prepare you”), but they are too much like the warnings of three days in unrelenting labor that women, facing their first childbirth, are forced to endure.
Listen to the pink-slip story and then, as you’ve been dying to do, offer help and advice, preferably in that order. Play it safe and omit suggesting a new wardrobe. I have one friend who was such sartorial advice while she was dressed in new job-hunting duds.
The number of job-hunting experts I’ve met these past months indicates that baseball is not America’s favorite pastime. Networking is. Please refrain from lecturing about its joys and virtues. Don’t rhapsodize about how three new names a day–and then three names from each of those names–is the way to job heaven. Job heaven is where my old job is.
Networking is an exponential nightmare. Although I live in a city of several million, I fully expect that someone will soon pass along my resume-to me. This practice may be at fault for the poor state of the economy. My networkers say they are so inundated with resumes and interviews that they have less time to actually work. What is this doing to the GNP?
No matter what, keep calling. I agree it’s annoying that, after months of effort, all Joe Jobless often has is a hundred new friends, paper cuts and a growing interest in the types of postal stamps available. But we need you for more than a job. Former business colleagues can tell us what is happening at the office and about friends/foes once seen daily. Personal friends give us a chance to show off long-deferred maintenance projects and the finally filled vacation-picture album from 1989.
As for me, I’d like to show you the nice rejection letters I have been receiving lately. We can discuss whether this is a result of my more carefully crafted cover letters or an indication of growing corporate sensitivity. Also, my network now includes some interesting people whom you should add to your network. You’d better hurry. Nov. 4 marked the start of the greatest networking frenzy in decades. Do you think “Yes, we have no recession!” will sound even more out of tune as government bureaucrats swell the unemployment lines? And remind me to tell you some stories from my inner-city unemployment office, which, by the way, adjoins the parole office.
