In praise of telecommuting: The slacker work ethic

When I worked in an office, I got nothing done.  I mean, literally nothing.  I viewed the hours I was stuck there, rather than any work I might produce, as the price of my paycheque & benefits.  Physically being in my cubicle, at my desk, from X am to X pm, was my job.  I had to answer the phone if it rang, go to meetings, deal with requests from bosses, but only at a bare minimum.  It was mainly clock-watching.  Before the Internet, it was harder to kill the time and look busy.   But for nearly 20 years now, both work and slacking off have involved staring at a computer screen.  My day revolved around deciding what I would have for lunch & snacks.  I never ate breakfast before work (not even once in all my years of working in an office, no exaggeration) as eating it at my desk gave me something fun to do whilst waiting to get lunch.  As you would expect, on the rare occasions when the job was busy & I was actually working, the time flew by much faster than on the days when I was staring at the clock, reading Fark, or trying to sneak a book on my lap under the desk.  When I had freelance work, I would try to do it at my day job.  Since I was trapped there for X number of hours, might as well use that time to get it done rather than my precious free time.

When I segued from cubicle dronedom to freelancing full-time, my work habits changed drastically.  When working from home, I was trapped at my desk only as long as it took to get the work done.  I didn’t have to sit there until 5:00pm if I finished.  I could do a million other projects, whether chores or hobbies.  I could reach a certain point in an assignment, go out for a run, and come back to it, refreshed and ready to tackle the next stage.  If I wanted to shop when the supermarket was less crowded or hit the gym when it was least busy, I could go in the middle of a weekday & work in the evenings or weekends.  The key difference was that I was no longer merely putting in time: I was rewarded for productivity, not being in a certain place for X number of hours each week.  I was compensated based on the quality and quantity of my work, not whether I was 15 minutes late or took an extra vacation day.  The biggest incentive to get work done was that I was free when it was finished and not a moment sooner or later.

So, you can imagine my reaction to the recent corporate trend to bring telecommuters back to the office.  Obviously, I think it is a huge mistake.  You want people to be productive, you don’t put them in a cubicle, you let them work sitting next to a swimming pool.  You can bet they will get that assignment finished so their butt can be in that pool as soon as humanly possible.  Put that same person in a cubicle and tell them they cannot leave until 5:30pm, and I will show you a person reading Amazon reviews and web comics all day long.  I’ve noticed that I barely have time to skim the headlines of the papers since I began telecommuting.  I really have to think an article is worth my treasured time to read the whole thing.  When I worked in an office, I read the paper cover-to-cover every day.  Remember when games like Tetris came with a panic button that switched the screen to a spreadsheet if someone walked by?  And when corporations started blocking websites to prevent their employees from checking their personal email and doing online shopping on "company time"?  You won't find a virtual worker slacking off because they are paid for results, not time.

To be fair, one of the reasons put forth for ending telecommuting is that face-to-face contact is useful for brainstorming and innovation.  I will grant you that the idea-generation and problem-solving stages of a project can benefit from group brainstorming sessions.  But that is what meetings are for, whether in person, or over Skype.  I have no objection to the theory that innovation needs collaboration but that necessity does not translate into a blanket ban on telecommuting.  Making people come into the office, in person or virtually, for facetime is reasonable.  But the high-handed command at Yahoo! to come back into the office full-time or quit was extreme, and will end up being counterproductive.  There is also a certain irony to a technology company banning working over the Internet.  It also does not help their image that the CEO is filthy rich.  A lower-paid employee could never afford the childcare arrangements she has made that enable her to put in long hours at the office despite being a new mother.  At best, she suffers from a lack of empathy.  I expect she has no clue how the little people beneath her live, and cares less.

Telecommuting is cheaper for employers, and it is a necessity in a society that does not provide paid parental leave.  It has become increasingly viable due to new technology, and it will continue to become practical in more industries.  It will never be an option in hands-on service industries (imagine a virtual firefighter or hair dresser) but the people who enter those professions know what they are getting into.  Trying to roll back time and turn people back into clock-watching cubicle zombies will lower productivity, not raise it.  I can vouch for that.

Location, Location, Location

Today’s Sunday Magazine cover story, “Is Giving the Secret to Getting Ahead?”, includes the line, “Studies show you shouldn’t move for location, since what you do is more important than where you do it.”  I’d like to know what studies these are, and who the respondents were, because I take issue with this supposed result.  Where I live is much more important to me than what I do for a living.  That clearly is not true for everyone but I can’t believe that the majority tend to the other extreme.

Work should take up, (for the sort of people who would be facing this job vs. location dilemma, i.e. mid-to-upper-level white collar), as few hours of one’s life as possible —40 hours per week, maybe more in busy periods with overtime.  Most of one’s life is lived outside of work.  Work provides the money to do the things we love—play sports, pursue hobbies, own property, raise a family, travel, etc.  Most people, if they won the lottery, would quit their jobs and move–to the coast, to the mountains, to whatever aesthetic environment appeals to them.  I know a guy who works in finance, for example, who lives to snowboard.  He has an MBA and a 6-figure salary, so you’d think he’d be about as career-oriented as anyone, but his main criterion for location is that fresh powder is within commuting distance.  This is not someone who would be happy with a great job in Florida. 

Speaking of Florida, I have known several people who moved there for jobs and found that, yes, Florida was just as tacky as they feared it would be.  They have all moved at the first opportunity, work not being enough to hold them in a location without any redeeming qualities, (okay, except TWWOHP, but you can't go there every day), not to mention cockroaches the size of Volkswagons.

I realise that some people would take any job to get as far away as possible from their families, and with good reason, but just as many others would be miserable living too far from their close-knit clans.  No job would make up for that.

Speaking of family, people with children tend to prioritise good schools and safe neighbourhoods.  Of course, they have to make a living to support their families, which often means moving for jobs, but location is still particularly important to them.  Most people I know wouldn’t consider raising a child south of the Mason-Dixon line, nor in any red state, with good reason.  When jobs take parents to an undesirable location they often endure unreasonable commutes for the sake of living in a better area for their children.  These long commutes can be both miserable and unhealthy.  Are they worth it for the job?  Almost never.

For myself, I am aesthetically married to New England.  I love the four distinct seasons and I live for fall foliage.  No job could be worth living in the South or PNW and missing out on the seasons each year.  I love the flora and fauna of New England, the historic architecture, the colonial history, the traditions and foods of the area.  I wouldn’t exchange maple syrup and pumpkins and cider and colonial farms and lilacs and autumn leaves for the foods and architecture and traditions of another region that don't resonate with me.

And I haven’t even mentioned politics. What job could be worth living in a red state?  What career move could outweigh being stuck in a place without organic food and coffeehouses?  There are still places in America where they’ll scratch their heads and offer you fish when you tell them you are a vegetarian, where they think that Fair Trade coffee means you want to barter for your cuppa.  I can see visiting such places (provided you are not contributing money to bigots by patronising their businesses) and coming home with some scary stories about how backward, sexist, racist, and ignorant they are, but living there?  Putting down roots and buying property and raising your children there?  What job could be worth that kind of sacrifice?

One of the (many) reasons I haven’t found a job in my field is because I am not willing to move to Outerbumblefuck, Kansas.  I know myself; I know that aesthetics are the most important thing in the world to me.  I don’t live to work, I work to live.  The things I love to do are not lucrative so I just want to make as much money as possible in as few hours as possible so I can devote as much time as possible to doing the things I love.  Giving up everything I love in life for a stupid job sounds like the worst trade-off in the world, especially given how insecure employment is.  If somebody told me that, if I could suck it up & live somewhere I didn't like for 10 years, I could earn enough to buy the farm of my dreams back in New England, of course I’d do it.  The short-term sacrifice, with the guaranteed pay-off, would be well worth it.  It would be an adventure.  But packing up my farm & leaving everything I love for a job that could end in a year, leaving me with no money, no farm, no roots, no money (worth mentioning twice), just adrift in a place I hate and no way to get a situation as good as the one I left?  That would be idiotic.  Moving for a job is a huge risk because nothing today is more unstable than the job market.  You move alone, away from family and friends and support networks and then you get laid off in 6 months and wind up homeless.  Yeah, job over location, smart move.

Within reason, figure out where you want to live, where you would be happiest, and then find a job there.  If you are in a highly specialized field, you don’t have that option, but this survey was clearly not aimed at such people.  Someone who wants to be an actor has to live in LA or NYC; someone who wants to be an astronaut has to live near NASA in Houston.  But I can’t imagine anyone that career-focused cares much where they live, and such driven folk are a tiny minority.  Also, if you are at the top of your profession, you can maintain two homes: one near work, one wherever you want to live.  But that lucky scenario doesn’t apply to most people.  For most people, their company transfers them to Cleveland and they either move or they lose their job.  They are not choosing job over location; they are stuck.

Another common situation would be this:  Let’s say you studied all your life to be a trumpet player.  After you graduate from Julliard, you audition for orchestras.  There are only so many with openings at a given time, so you cannot be choosy about location if you want a job in your field.  You get hired by the Seattle Symphony, but you hate rain.  Does having your dream job, one you literally worked since childhood to achieve, trump living in a place that depresses you?  I cannot imagine that it does but then I cannot imagine having a “career” rather than a “job.”  I cannot imagine caring more about what I do during working hours than what I do outside of them.  I wish I could get inside the head of someone who lives to work, just for a day, to experience that kind of drive and singlemindedness and energy.  I’ve never felt it and cannot fathom it.  I have goals about which I am passionate, but when it comes to making sacrifices or taking risks or working hard to achieve them, they take a backseat to comfort in the present.  That's why location is so important to me:  I cannot imagine being so engaged by a job that I could ignore living in an ugly, tacky, aesthetically-repugnant place.

Quitting the Rat Race Too Soon

Unsurprisingly, for some years now I have been obsessed with stories of city people who decide one day to ditch the rat race and move to the country.  I love the stories of the culture shock and the mistakes they make as they learn farming and animal husbandry.  Two of my favourites are "Fifty Acres and a Poodle" and "It Takes a Village Idiot".  I also enjoyed "Hit by a Farm: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Barn".

These stories all share some common traits.  The protagonist is fed up with running the rat race in the concrete jungle.  Tired of being consumers, they want to be producers, to make the necessities of life for themselves instead of working for someone else to obtain the money to buy them.  They want space and tranquility, a view, a slower pace of life.  They don't want to work less hard, just differently.  They would rather get up at dawn to see the frost on the fields than to beat rush hour traffic on the Interstate.

For me, this same decision was not a lightning bolt revelation but a slower process.  Having grown up in a city apartment, with the world at my doorstep, I was worried that I would feel bored and isolated in the country.  I had no connection to the earth, to growing things, to seeing stars at night, to country sights, sounds, and smells, to fresh-picked fruits and vegetables, to local food, to planting and weeding, fertilizing and canning.  Farm machinery scared me (it still does, to be honest).  One of the most daunting aspects of country life was the fact that I didn't even have a driver's license.  You can't keep a car in the city unless you are filthy rich, so my mother didn't have one.  I grew up a block away from a main station for buses and trains, so who needed a car anyway?  People who lived in the suburbs had cars, and that soulless Metro Land repelled me.  I associated the 'burbs with bourgeois conformity and mind-numbing consumerism.  Actually, I still do, but I understand the compromise that people who work in the city but want a little green space, a few stars, a rose bush or two, make by living in the suburbs.  It ain't the country, but they have grass and trees and they can still have their Habitrail connection to their rat race job.

But the suburbs were never for me because I have always loved horses.  It was horses that ignited my country dream.  I always wanted a horse farm of my own, with lots of acreage for pastures, a cross-country course, indoor and outdoor arenas, paddocks and barns.  Horseback riding as a child involved a series of bus rides from the city out into the suburbs and then a long walk or bike ride into a rural area beyond the reach of public transportation.  There were a few barns left in the city and suburbs (now long gone), but they were prohibitively expensive, offering riding instruction only for the children of the very well-to-do.  So, I had a horse farm dream before I had a country dream per se.  It was more that I needed to be in the country to have the horse farm than that I wanted to live in the country to grow my own food and retain my sanity.  Obviously, my thinking evolved.  As I became more familiar with the rewards of country living—got a driver's license and a car, planted a garden, got chickens, bought local foods in season, etc., my appreciation for country life grew.  I began to dread my visits to the city, to find my former habitat claustrophobic, crowded, and stressful.  And the country lifestyle jibes with my environmental views.  Not to mention the fact that I knew I wanted my future children to grow up in the country,  not the city.  Having experienced both worlds, there was no question which one was healthier, mentally and physically.

The question is how to make it work financially.  You see, there is one more common feature to all of those stories about city people bumbling into country life:  They all had money.  When they took off their little numbered rat jerseys and stepped off the rat race track, they took the proceeds from the sale of their city apartments, their savings, their retirement plans and family money, and bought themselves a farm of their own.  They renovated and restored their farms, bought farm equipment and animals.  Money seems to flow like water in these stories, with no mention of the well ever running dry.  I, on the other hand, have no money.  Not only can't I buy my own farm, I can't even afford the one I am renting.  Some of these protagonists were able to keep their city jobs, at least at first, by telecommuting. Technology is making the country life more feasible that way.  Telecommuting is my goal but I have not succeeded yet in part because employers usually want to establish a relationship before they allow the corporate tether to stretch so far.  I cannot afford to rent an apartment in the city, close to a well-paying city job, so I need a situation where I can telecommute from the start.  I have an excellent home office, with a view of the sugar maples in the front yard.  I can breathe here but I can also work here.

Another difference is that these stories never mention any preexisting debt.  Homesteading guides gleefully detail how you can live on a fraction of your city income when you grow your own food and make your own clothes, when you cook from scratch instead of eating out and play musical instruments and board games with your family instead of going to movies or paying for cable TV.  That's all well and good but what if you are starting country life with hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt that does not include a mortgage?  I have not one, not two, but three graduate degrees.  I have no job to show for them but I do have over $300K in federal student loans.  I have also been underemployed for so much of my life that I have mostly lived on credit, which has to be paid back, with interest.  I also have a lot of deferred household and personal purchases and maintenance that need attending to asap, not to mention deferred travel to see friends and family in far off places.

In order to leave the rat race, you have to have paid your dues as a rat.   These people who said "so long" to the other rats and left to go raise sheep somewhere in outerbumblefuck had a rat's nest to sell, and a rat's hoard of savings to live on.  If I had no debt and no major purchases to make, I could live on a low-paying local job but I am in the unique position of needing city wages in the country.  I am placing my hopes on getting a telecommuting gig but if that fails I don't know what I'll do.

Finally, Some Feedback

No, not on this new blog, although I am surprised that none of my millions of devoted readers, who live for my next post, have commented yet. Do you think I am writing just to hear myself talk?

Wait, don't answer that.

So, after some pestering, I was able to obtain the following:

"While the team appreciated your enthusiasm, they had concerns about your communication style and at times felt you struggled to give precise examples when asked. They have discovered through this interview process that a portion of the time allocation for this position will be personally communicating with executives about business initiatives and presenting options and recommendations. They now view these competencies - executive interaction and business acumen - as integral to the role. Because they have such a highly collaborative environment, and the role calls for interaction with senior members of the Firm, cultural fit is important so they chose to continue their search."

Now I understand, and feel a bit better. I am still sore about losing the money, obviously, but at least I know it wasn't my fault and I don't have some personality flaw that made them dislike me.

The simple explanation is that they are not used to candidates who are desperate for the money. Most of their employees were born with the proverbial silver spoon and never had any financial worries to distract them during the interviews.

Their other candidates aren't faced with an inability to afford to travel to the interview. I was literally shaking with anxiety when I spent the $100 for the train ticket to their offices. I couldn't afford to lose that money; it could have contributed significantly towards July expenses, not to mention as yet unpaid June bills. I agonized over it but I had to take the risk; I'd come so far in the interview process that it seemed certain I would get the job if I cleared this last hurdle. Yet the expense was a constant weight on my consciousness, adding to my nervousness. It was just so HUGE. But $100 was the cheapest deal for a round-trip ticket purchased 24 hours in advance, which is the amount of notice I had for the interview.

Their other candidates aren't so ridden with chronic stress from financial worries that they are no longer sharp and quick-witted like they used to be. When I checked my phone between interrogators, I saw no less than 3 calls from collection agencies, and I had already received several earlier in the day, as I was heading to the interview. I no longer answer my phone unless I recognize the number but the daily barrage of calls that starts first thing in the morning and lasts until late evening, and sometimes (illegally) on weekends, makes my blood pressure rise. After years of stress, the brain does not function as quickly as it used to and one's processing time increases. I hope it is reversible. Apparently, even a supposed genius IQ cannot mitigate the problem sufficiently.

Their other candidates aren't pondering how they can survive until the first paycheque. I was mentally calculating that, if it took several weeks for them to make their decision and fix a start date, and another two weeks before I received a first paycheque, I would be unable to get there to begin my employment. How would I pay for transportation and a place to stay near the office? How would I pay my July rent and other bills, all due in a few days? How would I buy food and other necessities? I sometimes feel as if it is too late for me to get a job, that I am too broke to be able to accept, commute, and wait to get paid.

Their other candidates haven't been so broke for so long that they are lost in fantasy spending mode. I was dazzled at the thought of making four times what I had earned in any year in the last decade. I literally missed some of the questions the interviewers posed to me because I spaced out thinking about money—both the current lack of it and the future windfall this job would bring. Money, money, money—when you don't have any, it is the only thing on your mind.

Their other candidates aren't dressed for the interview in the only thing that fits. Let's see: My dress is 15 years old and so threadbare and full of holes that Good Will wouldn't even take it. I will have to donate it to textile recycling when I stop wearing it. But, after putting on 50 lbs since my last corporate job, I cannot fit into any of my suits or skirts or other business-appropriate attire. (One of my suit jackets is a size 8—isn't that cute?) Because this dress is black, wearing black tights under it hides most of the holes, and strategically folding my arms disguises some of the worst threadbare spots. The tights are also full of holes but, since the dress is ankle length, they don't show. The shoes are only 5 years old and still in decent nick, but the dress needs heels, which I couldn't wear since I was walking across town from the train. Had I been able to afford a place to stay or a taxi, I could have worn more appropriate shoes, but I didn't want to look like a bag lady by carrying a second pair. Speaking of bags, my 6 year old "Little Miss Perfect" Lady B knitting bag is getting too disreputable for public display—stained, cracked, full of holes, broken zipper—but I love it so and I have nothing else—no briefcase any more and no more rucksacks, all worn out and thrown out long since. My sweater doesn't have any holes yet, although I have been wearing the hell out of it since I purchased it on sale 3 years ago, but it isn't remotely interview appropriate. But the lining of the only jacket that I can still sort of squeeze into if I don't button it is so shredded that it hangs out the bottom and the cuffs, no matter how much I trim it and tuck it in. The pearl necklace was a high school graduation gift from my mother—at least those are timeless and classic. The only new item in my interview wardrobe was my bra—purchased only two years ago from Target (I know; I plead poverty—I couldn't afford to go to a real lingerie shop) when I was finally forced to own up to having gone from a barely B to an overflowing D when I gained those aforementioned 50 lbs from depression and anxiety. At first, I refused to admit that I had put on so much weight, and I stubbornly wore my old bras until they were so stretched out I had to discard them. I have not purchased any other fat clothes; bras were my only concession out of absolute necessity, and I only bought 3, which have to last until I lose the weight again. (People must think I am a fundamentalist because I only wear long dresses. Too fat for any of my trousers, I refuse to buy fat jeans. No trousers until I can fit into my size 10 Levi's again!) The point is, my interview outfit did not give me confidence, so rather than focusing on the questions I was being asked, I was fussing with hiding holes in my dress and keeping my bag and sweater out of sight under the desk. I daresay that is not a distraction that plagues other candidates at this company and at this level.

So, I am aware that I was not at my best in terms of showcasing my communication skills. I am normally the person asked to communicate with senior management because of my stellar communication skills. I am normally able to think on my feet and bullshit extemporaneously—years of college teaching hone those skills to a high level. I am known for being articulate, logical, precise, shrewd, and having a good vocabulary. I was just so desperate for this job, so anxious not to fuck it up, that I was completely tongue-tied. I was totally disengaged because the stakes were so high. I could not fail. So I did. But that performance is not an accurate reflection of my communication skills. Their fear that I would not be able to communicate on the job was entirely unfounded, so I may be able to sleep tonight for the first time since getting the devastating news.

The moral of the story is: Don't ever interview when you are desperate for the job. You can't acquit yourself well when you are desperate. Only interview when you don't need the money.

It's just like dating. My male friends tell me that childless women over 35 exude an unappealing air of desperation on dates. The trick is, in dating or job hunting, how do you disguise your desperation? A 39 year old single woman who really wants kids but cannot afford to have them as a single mom is desperate to find a suitable man. She can attempt to feign otherwise, but she can't slow time down. Likewise, the longer I go without finding a job, the more desperate my financial situation becomes, and the less employable I become. It's a fucked up situation and there is no easy way out of it. I can't put off interviewing until I am less desperate for money; every day makes me more desperate.

I bet the person they hire doesn't need the job half as badly as I do.

What's Black & Blue & Red All Over?

Nope, not a newspaper.  It's the leg I stuck through the rotten floorboard in the porch yesterday.  Underneath the abrasions, the bruises have turned interesting colours.  Perhaps I won't wear shorts today.

I meant to segue yesterday from literally sticking my foot in it to the figurative equivalent but I went off on a different, albeit related, rant instead.  I originally was going to post about my anger and frustration at not securing a position that I desperately needed after I had jumped through all the hoops of a lengthy interview process.  I had passed each of the weed-out stages with flying colours—3 telephone interviews, submission of writing samples, completion of a written simulation exercise.  At each stage, I held my breath wondering if I would move on to the next, and I grew more confident with each advancement.  I was really suited for this position; I did not have to lie or embellish my skills and experience at all.  It was in the sweet spot of my knowledge, interests, talents, everything.  I had not even applied for this job; I was headhunted for it.  This job was perfect:  It paid a lot; it allowed telecommuting; it utilized my strongest skills; it was a segue into a lucrative field that would allow me to make city wages whilst living in the country and working from home.  I would have been able to pay down my debt in months rather than years on this salary, and I could have held my head high because I would not have been underemployed, doing work that is beneath my education and experience, as I have so often done.  The humiliation from being underemployed seeps into all areas of my life and sabotages my confidence.  I feel worthless and humiliated when I am underemployed, and it makes me behave more and more arrogantly.  When people cannot get an ego boost from what they do, they fall back on obtaining one from who they are.  It is much healthier to get that lift from what one does, because that is within our control.  Who we are is not a choice, so we have no right to feel pride based upon our demographic characteristics and congenital gifts.  But we all need to get it somewhere; our self-esteem must be built upon some foundation so, much like the pure-bloods in the wizarding world, we revert to using what we have.  If we have done nothing of which to be proud, we take pride in what we are instead of what we do.  That is pathetic and contemptible, not to mention morally indefensible.

But I digress.  The point is, this job was ideal and, for the first time, I did not have to embellish my way through the interview process, feigning interest and relevant skills and experience.  This was huge for me.  Typically, I am applying for a job based solely upon the money or the convenience or the perks or some other feature than the work itself.  After this lengthy and nerve-wracking process, I was called in for the final step:  an on-site interview marathon, with 5 different people grilling me separately, asking many of the same questions, as if to wear me down, like a police interrogation room.  One of the interviewers expressed empathy, saying that, after he had endured 7 interviews over 2 days, when they asked him why he wanted to work there, he responded, "I don't know anymore; I can't remember."  I thought he was on my side (by coincidence, he turned out to be a friend of a friend).  I was told that few people make it to the on-site interview stage (and most that make it that far are hired, I assume).  It cost me over $100 to travel to the office, money I could not afford to spend and money that I would not have spent unless I was 100% certain I would get the job.  I do not do anything on spec, least of all waste money.

I dressed semi-formally and conservatively (as one always must for job interviews), and remained "on", upbeat, curious, polite, enthusiastic, and honest throughout the entire day.  Each interrogator seemed impressed with my answers.  Although the company is corporate, this is not a client-facing department so the employees can be less generic and drone-ish and have more personality.  The fellow I mentioned above said that they have people from eclectic backgrounds in this division and that it is not a handicap because, "you can teach a smart person to do anything."  Finally, a place that appreciates brains!  I left the interview certain that I had nailed it.  I had finally found the elusive job that pays corporate wages but that I did not have to be a corporate type to obtain.

The next day, I bought flowers.  I went for a run and did my ab and jump rope work for the first time in months.  I began weeding the flowerbeds.  I cleared off the dining room table and City Boy and I had dinner like civilized people.  I planned to attend a special, but expensive, annual knitting event over the weekend that I never would have allowed myself to spend the money on if I wasn't about to start a tremendously lucrative job.  I made lists of deferred maintenance to take care of for my car and house, and lists of things to buy.  I planned out which debts to pay first, made a calendar of how I would pay them off and get some much-needed clothes, appliances, and furniture.

Then, 2 days later, I was told they were in a meeting discussing me and I would get word after they had finished.  I got the call several hours later:  They were going to pass.  "Not a good culture fit."  I thought about this phrase for a few hours.  At first, I was simply in shock and disbelief.  When it finally sunk in that I was not getting this job, I was incandescent with rage.  Livid.  Incensed.  I emailed the two people who had seemed the nicest at the interview and asked them to reconsider or at least give me a more detailed explanation for their decision.  The friend-of-friend guy sent me a fake-nice reply stating they would do neither.  He turned out to be a dick.

"Not a good culture fit."

I thought about that phrase some more.  In fact, I have thought of nothing else since Friday.  I spent the weekend seething, and I haven't stopped.  I don't want to think about how high my blood pressure is at present.  They had no substantive reason not to hire me.  They had no issue with my brains or skills or experience.  They had seen my written work (this was a writing job—I said it was perfect!).  I concluded that "not a good culture fit" means they just didn't like me.  After meeting me on their turf and talking to me individually, they did not want me to be part of their team.  But why?  What did I say wrong?  As I stated in my first post, it should be mandatory for companies to explain, in detail, why they didn't hire you, if you demand to know.

Did I dress too conservatively (pearl necklace, earrings, long black dress, black stockings, black flats, hair in bun, Little Miss Perfect bag to add just the tiniest touch of humour and quirkiness to the ensemble)?  No, one must always dress conservatively for interviews, even if the office is casual.  You can never go wrong by being more formal when you make a first impression.  You can always dress down once you see the environment.  That is standard job-seeking wisdom.

Did I seem too enthusiastic, too desperate?  No, I am a veteran of too many job interviews to make that rookie error.

Did I just seem too old?  Several friends have suggested it was age discrimination, that they wanted someone younger, more energetic, moldable.  But I do project energy in interviews.  I am not an idiot.  I don't appear to be a depressive or anxiety-ridden in a situation like that.  It would be the kiss of death.  I am very shrewd and I know how to play the game, and I thought I played it superbly that day, which is what kills me.  How could I think I did so well, how could I have done so well up to that point, but somehow made them do a 180 in their opinion of me?  City Boy suggested weight discrimination but I don't think I am fat enough for that to be a factor.  But could that be the simple answer?

As I implied above, if it were a very corporate place then, yes, I would not be a good culture fit, although that should not preclude me getting a job since I can fake it for the money.  But this was a, shall we say, more creative area, with more diverse and more highly educated people.  Mr. Turned-Out-To-Be-An-Arsehole went to Harvard.  This IS my milieu: bright people, not typical brain-dead corporate drones.  So what was it?  Why did they hate me after meeting me?  I made sure to ask each of them how long they had worked there, how they liked it, all the endearing questions you are supposed to ask.  Like I said, I know how to play the game.  When I don't get a job that I am applying for just for the money, that I would detest, where I am truly not a good culture fit, I am not surprised when I am not chosen and I don't enquire too deeply into it.  Usually I am told that I am overqualified, that they are afraid I will leave, and I accept that.  But this was a 6 month gig as a contractor, not a lifetime commitment on their part if it didn't work out.  And I was neither under- nor overqualified; I could have performed the work magnificently.  In fact, I was planning to make myself indispensable so they would extend the contract.

So what the fuck happened?  Why didn't they want me after all that hoop-jumping?

That Stings A Bit

This doesn't seem to be my day.  Whilst watering the hanging baskets of fuschias on the front porch this morning, I put my foot through a rotten floorboard.  As I wrenched my leg back up, eyes watering, I was reminded of the trick step at Hogwarts that catches distracted students who forget to jump it.

Earlier in the day, I had locked myself out.  We just had a new, much stronger, pick-proof lock put on the front door, and I forgot the new key when I went off to yoga on my bike.  City Boy was home when I left, so I didn't have to lock the door behind myself.  If I had been driving, obviously, I would have had my keys but it didn't cross my mind to take them out of the jacket pocket in which they had been residing when I left as the previous lock had been broken for years.  Earlier still, I had missed a phone call for a telephone interview.  Not that I had high hopes for it anyway.  I am so burned out on job hunting that there is no way I could make a good impression on a potential employer at this point.  My anger and frustration are at peak levels, and my sense of entitlement, always high, grows by the minute, along with my salary requirements.  No-one seems to understand that the longer I am unemployed, the higher a job needs to pay to get me out of debt and on my way to financial stability.

One would expect that a long-term job seeker would grow more desperate and become more willing to take anything, even if it pays a pittance.  Yet, paradoxically, the exact opposite is true:  The longer I go without disposable income, the more I want to buy, the more entitled I feel to shop, the more resentful I feel at not being able to do things, at having to say no to plans all the time because I cannot afford to go.  Not to mention the chronic anxiety that stems from not being able to pay for basic necessities, like rent, utilities, food.  That anxiety better not make me ill because I don't have health insurance so I cannot get sick or injured (taking care of the leg with tea tree oil; no ice because I am on Day 4 of Broken Fridge).  It is nerve-wreaking knowing I am one car repair away from not being able to get to a job, even if I got one.  Knowing my lease may not be renewed since I can't pay my rent on time.  Knowing my friends and family all hate me for not visiting and not sending holiday gifts.  Knowing I am throwing a fortune down the toilet in interest because I cannot get out of debt.  At this point, the first thing I want when I find work is a holiday.  I am so exhausted from stress, I don't have the energy to go to work; I need a good, long, relaxing holiday before I can begin to focus on a new job.

It really is unfortunate that one cannot ask about pay during an interview.  Oh, sure, the interrogator always enquires if the applicant has questions.  I have the appropriate ones at the ready but these are my real ones:

1) How much does this gig pay?
2) How soon are you looking for someone to start because I need a job yesterday?
3) How soon after I start will I get my first paycheque because my rent was due last week?

I am also curious about hours, about telecommuting, about vacation days and benefits.  But one cannot ask any of those questions, except some polite variation on number 2, delicately enquiring when they hope to wrap up their search and have someone "on board".  No, one has to feign interest in the work itself.  It's all a game, a charade.  The interviewer wouldn't be working there if s/he didn't need the money, and I wouldn't be applying if I didn't need it, but we both have to pretend that's not the case.  It's a huge, steaming pile of bullshit, in which we are all complicit, and I am tired of it.

An Anniversary Not Worth Celebrating

As of today, I have been unemployed for a year.  Prior to a year ago, I was long-term under-employed, so it has been awhile since I have had enough money to cover my basic monthly expenses, let alone had any extra money for horseback riding, travel, savings, or paying down debt.  It has been nearly 4 years since my checking account was in the black; I have been living at the bottom of my overdraft.  It has been longer since my credit card was paid off.  It is charged to the limit, and all I can do is pay the minimum.  It has been a decade since I have had any savings.  It has been a year since I have paid my rent on time.  It has been 4 years since I went abroad on holiday.  It has been too long since I could donate to animal rescue, buy holiday gifts for friends and family, horseback ride, buy clothes, maintain my automobile, pay for yoga, and buy furnishings for my home.  Everything in my life is on hold—including my federal student loans, which are in forbearance.

If you'd asked me 10 or 20 years ago whether I'd have my own historic horse farm by now, my reply would have been, "of course!"  Instead, I am barely holding onto my rental.  I feel as if so many things I want to do in life—have my own farm, have horses, have sheep, rescue cats & dogs, have children, travel, help my family, help animal rescue, have an orchard, raise organic crops—are on hold.  Yes, ok, I have chickens: that is a start on farm life.  I have some flowers and a small organic veggie and herb garden.  But it is all at the sufferance of my landlord, who does not allow pets.  I can't farm properly on a rental property.  I live in a historic house, built in 1780, but another tenant lives upstairs, and the house is not restored.  In fact, it is covered with vinyl siding.  Hardly my museum-quality historic masterpiece.

I am grateful to have this, and I appreciate the beauty that is here, the opportunities that I do have in this rental.  I love the sugar maples in the front yard, and the really local syrup that comes from them.  I love the porches (it's a big deal for a city girl to have her own adirondack chairs).  Hell, I even have a small bbq grill for s'mores—definitely not something one can have in the city!  I love that when I want blueberries or raspberries for my morning yoghurt, I can go out back and pick them right into the bowl.  I love watching the lilac and winterberry bushes that I planted get bigger every year.  I love seeing the echinacea attract hummingbirds and bees.  I love the bike path, the hills, the local, seasonal organic farmstands, the local ice cream and cheese, the historic houses with plaques stating the year they were built.  I love the hay trucks stacked high with bales rumbling down the street, leaving a wispy trail of hay in their wake.  I love how you can't give away squash around here because everyone has such a prolific crop of their own.  I love picking sweet corn in the back field and carving pumpkins that I have grown myself.  I love collecting fresh eggs for breakfast, still warm from the chicken.  I love my 7 feathery girls, mostly heirloom breeds that I am helping to preserve.  I love picking the first asparagus of spring knowing it was planted decades ago and keeps coming back.  I love seeing up close how tenacious nature is.  I love watching the baby squirrels that live in one of the maple trees venture down to explore their world.  I love noting the weekly growth of the baby bunny whose burrow is under the house.

It isn't MY farm, but it still beats the hell out of a city flat.  I do appreciate that.  I can breathe here and some days that is enough.  But anniversaries are a time for reflection, to consider our goals, how far we have come and what we have yet to accomplish.  Each year for the last decade I have slid back a little - gotten a little fatter, a little more out of shape, a little more worn down by anxiety and depression, a little poorer, a little (ok, a lot) further into debt.  I become less employable, less attractive, less fertile (yes, the biological clock is ticking LOUDLY), less quick and sharp due to stress and fatigue.  Each year, I see my goals sliding further out of sight instead of getting closer, as they should.

Money is the reason that I cannot pursue most of my goals, and money would solve most of my problems.  But I am not even doing the things I can do without money.  I have passions that are inexpensive; I could still sing—I can't afford a voice teacher but singing on my own is free.  I can't buy a Steinway grand at present but I could still play the instruments that I already own.  I could still knit and spin.  (Like most knitters, I could knit from my stash for the next year and have yarn left over.)  I can't afford riding lessons but I could make friends with people who need their horses exercised.  I could garden the hell out of the small space I have.  I could write.  I can't afford to rejoin the gym or yoga studio, but I could run, bike, and do yoga at home.  I could be doing ab work and lift weights all day.  I could be a good friend, even if I can't afford to visit.  I could help my family emotionally, if not financially.

But I haven't been doing any of these things.  Since I am unemployed, you'd think I'd have time on my hands, but my garden is full of weeds and my UFOs sit in my knitting bag with my untouched stash.  My musical instruments have dust on them.  And my endless lists of writing ideas remain lists.  Why?  Why don't I use my time productively?  I think the main reason is depression; it runs in my family.  There is also anxiety/OCD, which makes it hard to concentrate, and my perfectionism.  But everyone has issues.  Absolutely everyone, no exceptions.  And most people get shit done anyway.  So, that is no excuse.

The clichéd, but accurate, definition of insanity is doing the same thing over again & expecting different results.  On what I am calling the 10th anniversary of sliding further from my goals, I need a new strategy to turn things around and start moving towards them again, at an accelerated pace, to make up for lost time.

Some unsolicited advice for employers on dealing with job applicants:

1) My timeline for obtaining a job is a lot shorter than your timeline for obtaining an employee.

After sending a resumé and cover letter or filling out your online application, an applicant may wait weeks before being contacted for a preliminary interview, weeks more before a second and, possibly, third interview, and yet weeks again before being offered a position with a start date still a few weeks further on. And let us not forget that the first paycheque is likely to arrive another two weeks after the start date.

MY timetable for getting a paycheque is yesterday. Every minute that I am waiting to secure employment takes days off my life due to the stress and strain of financial insecurity. I cannot pay my bills nor make any plans until I have a steady income. I am LIVING for that first paycheque and every day that you draw out the job-seeking process is torture.

2) I have a right to know why I was not chosen and asking does not mean I am crazy.

Whenever I am told that I was not chosen for a position, I follow up with the potential employer to ask why. I have never yet had an employer tell me. On the contrary, they are always quite taken-aback by the question and state that the fact that I even asked reinforces to them that they made the right choice in not hiring me.

If I were in charge, it would be mandatory for employers to provide detailed feedback to each candidate not selected, if they ask. Not only do I have a right to know, it would be useful to know what to change next interview. It is natural, when one is rejected, to want to know why. In fact, it would be a bit bizarre not to care, unless you had decided that you did not want the job. Actually, even in a situation where I had decided not to take the job if offered, I would still want to know, from the employer's perspective, why I was not chosen.

3) Do not expect detailed and personalised cover letters from burned-out job seekers.

You have probably only read one cover letter from me but I have written hundreds, perhaps thousands. They are tedious and time-consuming to write and burn-out sets in quickly. I am tired of explaining how my skills and experience match the requirements of the position, jaded from faking interest in your stupid, pointless job, and sick of proving over and over again that I am the right candidate.

My cover letter is terse because I am sick of writing them. Give me the damn job and you will see that I am the right candidate. I am not going to explain it one more tedious time in yet another bullshit cover letter.

4) Don't expect job seekers to repeat what is in their resumé in an online application.

Most large employers have online applications where, in addition to attaching a resumé and cover letter, one is expected to spend eons filling out a detailed work and education history. Usually it is mandatory to fill in all the blanks in order to click through to the next screen in the submission process, and often the note “See resumé is not an acceptable answer” is included on the form.

You know what? Most job seekers have spent a lot of time on our resumés, and we usually have a daily goal of job applications to meet. After filling in 25 of these online applications in a row, the job seeker just wants to type, “JUST GIVE ME THE FUCKING JOB ARSEHOLE” in each blank space on the form.  Not that I've done that...often.

5) Don't make me pretend to want the job for any other reason than the money.

Humans fall on a spectrum from “live to work” at one extreme to “work to live” at the other. Most people are well towards the “work to live” end. There are a few people so devoted to their careers that they would keep working if they won the lottery, but they are in fields so specialised that they are not on the regular job market so you are unlikely to encounter them when hiring. The reason I want the position is because I need to pay my bills, support my family, and fund my hobbies and pursuits outside of work. If I were independently wealthy and could do all this without a paycheque from you, I would not be replying to your advertisement.

This is blatantly obvious yet employers fail to grasp this basic point, insisting on asking the applicant questions such as, “Why do you want this job?” “What attracts you to this position?” “What do you think you will enjoy most about this job?” Any job seeker with an IQ above room temperature knows not to answer this question truthfully but employers would do well to stop asking it and put an end to the charade.

6) List the pay in your ad or, at least, make it crystal clear before the interview process begins.

I have wasted obscene amounts of time and money applying for jobs and travelling to interviews for positions that I was unable to accept because the take-home pay would not cover a quarter of my living expenses.

Since it is considered a major faux pas for the applicant to enquire about salary during the interview process, employers owe us the courtesy of telling us upfront so we do not waste our time and money. The exact hours, benefits, and telecommuting options should also be known before the first interview.

On a related note, if an applicant puts a minimum salary in their cover letter or application form, and the position does not meet it, do not waste the applicant's time. I recently applied for a position where I made my minimum salary explicit, was invited to interview, and then received an offer well below it. Minimum means minimum to survive, to pay one's bills; minimum is not negotiable. If you do not intend to meet it, do not call the applicant for an interview.

7) I am going to be angry when I am not chosen and this does not mean I am crazy either, just naturally frustrated and fed-up.

A job seeker is performing during the interview process, like an actor onstage. One is “on” and “up” during interviews, betraying no hint of fatigue or burn-out or boredom, projecting confidence, competence, enthusiasm, and friendliness. The job seeker's goal is to make a good impression and get hired. But once you tell me that I was not chosen, do not expect me to maintain that façade. Yes, there are exceptions: If the reason I was not chosen was not personal, or if there is a chance for a future job at the same employer, I will continue to be the soul of graciousness. Never burn a bridge you may have to cross again! But if I wasted time and money on a multi-step interview process, if I spent time taking tests or preparing work samples and written exercises or simulations – in other words, if I jumped through a lot of hoops and was led to believe I was a strong candidate because I kept advancing to the next stage – then do not expect me to be happy about not getting the job. You may be smug because you are done, you have chosen your new employee, but I am back to square one, having made a huge emotional investment in getting this job. You will notice a definite frostiness in my tone, a Jekyll & Hyde-like transformation, and you may hear some choice words of contempt flung back at you as I vent my frustration about my wasted time and energy and the necessity of having to get back out there and do it all again.