The term “funemployment” had such a great ring to it at the beginning of the summer. Extended vacation, few responsibilities, and best of all, now work! The thoughts of beach days, day drinking, road trips, lounging around, barbecues, pools, roaming around the city with no plans, and plenty of time to read and write. Hell, even when I talk about it now, it’s a dream. Who could think of any better way to spend a summer? It was all it promised to be, except for one detail: the end date. Funemployment became unemployment, and unemployment has become depression and anxiety. Money worries, boredom, loneliness, self-doubt, short-lived panic attacks…this is now what my days consist of.
Please, don’t get the impression that I’ve done nothing this summer to better my situation. Even when I was riding the funemployment train with my head out the window catching the warm breeze on my scalp, I was actively looking for work. I’ve written and re-written cover letters, job applications, my resume, my linkedin profile; I’ve signed up for half-a-dozen job hunting search engines; I’ve tried to network; I even contemplated going down a completely foreign career path…all led to the same result: nada. Nunca. Niente. Nothing!
So here I am, going into my ninth week of unemployment, hoping and wishing every waking minute an employer picks up the phone and dials my number to ask me to interview, while trying not to check my bank account or agree to go out with friends and spend more money, and spending mind-numbing hours applying to jobs I probably won’t get.
Go, me!
thebostoners 