The thing about knowing that you’re not going to have a job is knowing that you’re not going to have a job.
One day. Not today, or tomorrow, or next week, but, you know, one day.
It’s kinda like circling the airport for hours and hours and hours, waiting to be cleared for landing – you know you’re going to be, eventually, but meanwhile, the little light is on that says you have to stay in your seat and you’re a little panicky about maybe having to go to the bathroom.
I’ve been doing some things to prepare for my upcoming vocational dislocation – sensible, practical things, like working on refinancing the house so my monthly note will be considerably lower, getting a homeowner’s warranty because the refrigerator is making a noise that doesn’t sound good at all.
I’ve also been working on my resumé. I have friends who have looked at it and told me things like, “that sounds old-fashioned,” and “couldn’t you find a better way to say this?”
The last time I put my resumé out, there was no internet. Not available to the general public, anyway. I had to type it up on one of the very first Macs and print it out on paper and fax it to people, and then follow it with a “hard copy” in the US Mail, along with a nice cover letter.
This time, because of the internet, I know people all over the place and am able to seek advice and gather information I would never have had access to before. It’s a lot less lonely than it could have been. I’m terribly fortunate to have so many people to call on.