Big in the news last week: unemployment finally dipping below 8%. What do these numbers mean? A political victory for Obama? An error in reporting? An indicator of economic vitality? So often we think of these numbers in a theoretical framework, or as statistics influencing pundit babble. They simultaneously speak of unemployment as the temperature gauge of our economy, and then turn around and blame the unemployed for their laziness (and other negative stereotypes like drunkeness, drug use, dependency on government handouts). If there's anything we know to be true is that the poor and the unemployed deserve their fate, as they are clearly unmotivated and probably just plain stupid.
To the people who received those new jobs lauded in the news, it meant the first gulp of fresh air after months and even years of drowning. To those still unemployed, perhaps it meant a glimmer of light at the end of a seemingly endless tunnel. I happen to fall into the former category.
I had a very low-wage job in Nebraska in 2010 and 2011, which I absolutely adored. Working at Volunteers of America as an AmeriCorps Member was exactly what I wanted to be doing, exactly where I wanted to be. I was able to swing the $500/month stipend thanks to the generosity and free rent offered by my parents. In fact, up to that point in my life, I was handed paid internships like they were suckers at the bank. "Here you go, little girl!" I was academically accomplished, and had a variety of skills and volunteer experience to offer any future employer. I was a passionate and capable youth ready to change the world! And then I stepped out of my bubble.
I decided my life in Nebraska was too comfortable, that I wasn't ready to settle into anything, and wanted to see new places and try new things. So I landed in Portland, Oregon, with only a couple of (lovely) acquaintances to live with, and no prospects. I didn't expect it to be easy, especially since I had never had to go through the process of looking for a job before. They had generously fallen into my lap due to the (never understimated) advantage of networking.
So I arrived, scoped it out, found some really awesome jobs in many areas of interest, and applied and applied and applied. I wasn't eligible for unemployment benefits because my AmeriCorps position was not deemed and "employer/employee relationship". I finally landed a part time position as an organist, which was wonderful, although the commute was borderline unbearable (18 miles one way on my scooter throughout the winter). It wasn't enough money to get by, so I continued to apply, and lowered my standards for just something that would get me by. Finally, for whatever reason, I was offered a job as a receptionist at an assisted living, so blessedly close to my home. My supervisor later informed me that she had received approximately TWO HUNDRED applications for my position. My point is not to brag that I received the job, but to illustrate how awful the job market really is. Without previous experience, I have no idea why she chose me. But I was exceedingly grateful, as my savings were about to their end, and I had been unemployed four months.
Soon after receiving that position I decided to move again. This time, to be with my boyfriend in Boulder, Colorado, who was tied down with school and unable to relocate. Life is short! And I had figured it out in Portland, so I could do it all again, this time much easier!
It turns out I was mistaken, so sorely mistaken. Our situation in Colorado was complicated. I needed to have a minor surgery, and although I got health insurance for exactly that reason, it still ate up almost all of my savings. We lived with Matthew's parents while we were waiting to buy a house in Denver, so I started applying for positions in Denver. The house fell through, and then we were rushed to find a place to rent in Boulder, all in the midst of his parents moving to a different state! The process was full of upheaval and stress, but we finally got settled into our new apartment. By this time I was already completely out of money and relying on my parents to pay for my food and rent. I buckled down and started applying for more and more positions, each week lowering my expectations and lamenting that I wasn't applying for a single job that I actually wanted.
Initially, unemployment seems like a vacation. Do what you want all the time! Relax, sleep in, watch TV. And then it begins to take its psychological toll. I believe I have pretty solid self-worth. But the experience of being unemployed for six months wore me down. I sat for hours searching for and applying for jobs, with a throbbing panic in my gut. I woke up every morning with nothing to do, feeling unwanted, as if I had nothing to contribute to the world. Why didn't they want me? What's wrong with me? And then to have everyone around me telling me: you really need to get a job. You can't go on like this. You need to start pulling your own weight. My mind was constantly in a whirlpool of negative thoughts, sucking me downward. Almost anything I wanted to do, I couldn't afford. I applied for food stamps (and am even now still in the process of receiving them). I finally received a job working at a Korean cafe but was laid off only after three days of training. The owner told me business was down and he couldn't afford to hire me. But my self-depricating downtrodden self doubted the reason.
The spiral of my pain deepended and my relationships suffered. I became so sensitive and couldn't even talk about strategizing. I finally decied to give up completely and try to make money in a different avenue. The very next day I received a request for an interview from three different companies and ended up getting hired as a sales associate at Macy's. Now let me confess, big-box stores selling merchandise made by low-wage workers in poverty-stricken countries are not my cup of tea. Additionally, the hiring standards of the company seem to be pretty low, and the job doesn't pay well. After six months of unemployment, the knowledge that I received the job was like a shaft of sunshine straight into my heart.
I know that my experience was echoed by many young people just like me all over the nation. Capable, hungry to contribute, and resentful of the "moocher status" pasted over an entire generation. Part of the lesson I've learned is even after all the searching, BOTH times of my unemployment, the job I ended up receiving was not rewarding or fulfilling. Is this the future we're being offered? I don't accept it. I am so appreciative of the small amount of money I have coming in, and it's given me a new appreciation for the role money plays in my life. But even so, I cannot be happy with this second-class life! Where will this growing discontent lead our generation? Are office jobs and the service industry really all we have to offer to the world? I challenge all of us, and especially myself, to forge a new path (and a very old path) of tangible contribution to a tangible community. It's up to you to discover what that means for you, but it's a conversation we need to be having with each other, together.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
The Art of Aging
I'm now five weeks into my new adventure - a full time job. On the surface, that may seem like the opposite of adventure; on a day quickly approaching, I may feel think that too. How did I end up here, as the receptionist and front office assistant at an Assisted Living facility? I applied for endless varieties of jobs in non-profits, Portland is rife with them, but the market in Portland is neck deep in young caring professionals looking for part-time jobs. Finally, the motivation of rent inspired me to take a job only a mile from my house, at $10/hr as a receptionist. As an introvert, this decision seemed almost counter-intuitive. Up until this point, my time in Portland had been spent 50% in slumber. I have no experience as a receptionist. Elderly people have difficulty understanding me when I speak (the frequency of my voice can't be heard by the human ear). But they hired me, with the understanding that I will be moving away in May.
At the front desk I have the unique opportunity to listen to the residents talk to each other at leisure, without them knowing I can hear them. (Although sometimes I question this, sometimes I think they just don't care if people know what they say). Topics range from the light-hearted weather and activity talk to the endless regrets for moving from their homes, complaints about how their children don't respect them and treat them as infants, and longing for family interactions. I have to sit through loud whispers of how much better the previous receptionist was than me...oh, Joanie. She's another story altogether. These folks have spent their whole lives busy, and to sit in idleness feels like the worst fate. As they sit and wither, health degrades, some are sent to higher level care facilities, some pass away. No matter how many activities are planned, how many TV shows and crossword puzzles fill their hours, there remains ample amount of time to contemplate the inevitability of death.
And I get to sit and observe it, and contemplate the inevitability of my own death, and mostly likely, my own aging process. First to mind is heart and body health. Weight loss is not the only reason to exercise! I have no longing for living forever, but I also don't want to be hobbling around with a walker at the age of 70.
I don't fault a single one of them for feeling cast aside and undervalued. I can't blame them for longing for a different time. An 80 year old person today was at the height of their game in the era of McCarthyism, where families were perfect units and receptionists didn't shave odd portions of their hair off. Peace activist Howard Zinn died recently at the age of 88 after endless years of highly intellectual thought and action on issues of peace and social justice. He did not lose the ability to process complex current events and lived a very active lifestyle. My grandpa is 87 and still loves to haul hunks of iron around his yard via riding lawn mower. Up until now, every year my grandpa ages, that year becomes the year before "old". But now I'm surrounded by people average aged much younger than that with health conditions like water spiraling down a drain.
An Assisted Living differs from a Nursing Home in the level of care offered, the people here are not able to live alone, but mostly can meet their own needs. They enjoy the convenience of someone else doing their laundry, cooking their meals, mowing the lawn, and the distinct advantage of having compatriots with similar interests and lifestyles. There's a strong argument for that. Whether those needs can be better met in a family can't be answered in a blanket statement about care for the elderly. I would gently argue that the inter-generational relationships benefit everyone in a family setting, the elderly watching the children, the children learning from the elderly, and the middle generation providing sustenance and care for both. This set-up would also offer the elderly mental stimulation and a sense of purpose and of home. There's a certain gravity to the aged that offers balance in a young household. A people (I'm talking about us as a culture) who don't value these representatives of the past are losing something essential, very simply, humanity. Just as we will (mostly) all be old someday, everyone old was someday young, sprightly, comely. The events of their lives unfolded in passion, grief, and prayer. Experiencing the slackening of your muscles and the fading of your mind must be absolutely terrifying.
An Italian man was changing trains in Frankfurt, Germany when a man tapped him on the shoulder and told him he had dropped a deutschmark, worth a few dollars perhaps, and returned it to him. Am I annoyed after hearing this story four times from a man reeking of urine? Yes. But isn't it also fascinating to think how important this one event 40 years ago was in a man's life? It is proof to him throughout his life that there are decent people in the world. What is it that people hold on to when all else has been taken from them, their homes, family, independence, and sometimes even their dignity? Those are the things to listen for, and to cultivate in life now.
At the front desk I have the unique opportunity to listen to the residents talk to each other at leisure, without them knowing I can hear them. (Although sometimes I question this, sometimes I think they just don't care if people know what they say). Topics range from the light-hearted weather and activity talk to the endless regrets for moving from their homes, complaints about how their children don't respect them and treat them as infants, and longing for family interactions. I have to sit through loud whispers of how much better the previous receptionist was than me...oh, Joanie. She's another story altogether. These folks have spent their whole lives busy, and to sit in idleness feels like the worst fate. As they sit and wither, health degrades, some are sent to higher level care facilities, some pass away. No matter how many activities are planned, how many TV shows and crossword puzzles fill their hours, there remains ample amount of time to contemplate the inevitability of death.
And I get to sit and observe it, and contemplate the inevitability of my own death, and mostly likely, my own aging process. First to mind is heart and body health. Weight loss is not the only reason to exercise! I have no longing for living forever, but I also don't want to be hobbling around with a walker at the age of 70.
I don't fault a single one of them for feeling cast aside and undervalued. I can't blame them for longing for a different time. An 80 year old person today was at the height of their game in the era of McCarthyism, where families were perfect units and receptionists didn't shave odd portions of their hair off. Peace activist Howard Zinn died recently at the age of 88 after endless years of highly intellectual thought and action on issues of peace and social justice. He did not lose the ability to process complex current events and lived a very active lifestyle. My grandpa is 87 and still loves to haul hunks of iron around his yard via riding lawn mower. Up until now, every year my grandpa ages, that year becomes the year before "old". But now I'm surrounded by people average aged much younger than that with health conditions like water spiraling down a drain.
An Assisted Living differs from a Nursing Home in the level of care offered, the people here are not able to live alone, but mostly can meet their own needs. They enjoy the convenience of someone else doing their laundry, cooking their meals, mowing the lawn, and the distinct advantage of having compatriots with similar interests and lifestyles. There's a strong argument for that. Whether those needs can be better met in a family can't be answered in a blanket statement about care for the elderly. I would gently argue that the inter-generational relationships benefit everyone in a family setting, the elderly watching the children, the children learning from the elderly, and the middle generation providing sustenance and care for both. This set-up would also offer the elderly mental stimulation and a sense of purpose and of home. There's a certain gravity to the aged that offers balance in a young household. A people (I'm talking about us as a culture) who don't value these representatives of the past are losing something essential, very simply, humanity. Just as we will (mostly) all be old someday, everyone old was someday young, sprightly, comely. The events of their lives unfolded in passion, grief, and prayer. Experiencing the slackening of your muscles and the fading of your mind must be absolutely terrifying.
An Italian man was changing trains in Frankfurt, Germany when a man tapped him on the shoulder and told him he had dropped a deutschmark, worth a few dollars perhaps, and returned it to him. Am I annoyed after hearing this story four times from a man reeking of urine? Yes. But isn't it also fascinating to think how important this one event 40 years ago was in a man's life? It is proof to him throughout his life that there are decent people in the world. What is it that people hold on to when all else has been taken from them, their homes, family, independence, and sometimes even their dignity? Those are the things to listen for, and to cultivate in life now.
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