Seattle Press on Line - Jobless In Seattle

Writers' Corner

Jobless In Seattle

By Jeff P. Jones

May 09, 2002 -- The parking lot next to the monstrous beige building called WorkSource is full when I arrive. I notice a VW Passat, a beautiful pearl-colored Audi, and a shiny new Dodge Dakota four-by-four. The jobs that allowed these cars to be purchased no longer exist. The drivers, like me, can no longer call themselves "Employees" but have been relegated to that earthly purgatory familiar only to "Job Seekers." If the people driving these kinds of cars are unemployed, how can I expect to fare any better? I drive a fifteen-year-old pickup with a bent bumper, rusty fenders, and a faded paint-job.

I've been out of work in Seattle for three months now, doing my part to keep Washington state's rate of unemployment growth the highest in the nation. I usually pick up contract jobs teaching English as a Second Language (ESL), but this winter the well's run dry. My work relies heavily on international students visiting the US and, after the terrorist attacks, student numbers plummeted.

Unemployed people seek each other out during the day. While the rest of the world is at work, we sneak off to dark corners in hole-in-the-wall coffeehouses where we drink three-dollar lattes and bemoan the fact that we don't have enough money for haircuts.

It's during one of these chats that an unemployed friend who also happens to have a master's degree in international studies like me confides that he is seriously considering a job at Dick's Burgers.

"Hey, they pay like twelve bucks an hour to start," he says. "Just to get some money coming in, you know?"

His words echo in my mind as I enter the beige building.

There's a certain amount of humiliation that goes with walking through the doors of an unemployment agency. Crossing this threshold I feel exposed, as if I'm publicly confessing a sin. But, I have no choice. I'm desperate.

Since my unemployment began, I've sent out thirty-four resumes. From that I've netted only two interviews, three requests for further information, and seven form rejections. The rest didn't even bother to respond. I decide perhaps there's something about online opportunities that has evaded me. So, I'm here today at WorkSource for the "Computer-Assisted Job Search" workshop.

The lobby is standing-room only and I've missed the computer workshop. I overhear the receptionist tell someone another workshop is about to start. I stand uneasily among the other unfortunates. We are the dispossessed, the deadweights, the unemployed and we know it. It shows on every face. We're not normal--we don't have jobs. We avert our eyes from each other and don't speak.

The awkwardness of the situation forces me to ponder how I've sunk so low. Seven years in dusty university libraries and all I do during the day is scan online classifieds chockfull of listings for Summer Camp Counselors and Bagel Drivers.

I'm suddenly face-to-face with just how useless I am to society. Who cares if I know all about the increasing pressure on the Yanomamo Indians to assimilate or the inner workings of the Bolshevik Party during the Russian Revolution? Where can you put that on a job application? I begin to wonder if I'll ever be happily employed again.

Then, at the top of the staircase, looking like the Priestess in the Temple of the Unemployed, SHE appears. She wears a snappy black dress with a thin gold-buttoned overjacket and black nylons. Her eyes are inscrutable behind enormous bifocals that sit like a shiny glass butterfly on her nose. She rasps every word in a voice like Angie Dickinson's.

"You all are welcome to come upstairs for the 'Knowing Yourself' workshop."

Little do I know that this priestess will sell me a special brand of hope. But it comes in a can.

* * *

I think about escaping but, in a weak moment, allow myself to be caught up with the rest of the herd tromping upstairs. I'm sure that my fate in this government pep rally is to sit and listen for three endless hours to platitudes meant to motivate but which, at this point, will likely send me reeling head-over-heels into the very pit of despair.

The room we're funneled into is long and rectangular with white walls and fluorescent lights. Thin ribbons hang limp from the overhead vents. It's already stuffy.

I try to hide in the back but I'm called forward to an open seat in the front row. Even though we're all in the same boat, I feel like I'm wearing a sign that says "Unemployed" around my neck.

"I am here as a testament to how the process works," the priestess says from the front of the room. Her name is Karen and she smiles wide. "I promise to make the tunnel of unemployment shorter and less dark."

Her sunny disposition only darkens my own shadow. I seriously doubt Karen knows what it really means to be unemployed, to feel that trickle of cold sweat down your flanks when someone asks you, "So, what do you do?"

Lately, even close friends have turned traitor. They ask me, "So, what is it you do all day now that you're unemployed?" As if unemployment's a vacation.

As a result, I've stopped going to parties and I don't eat out. Besides being broke, I'm the walking wounded, filled with shame at something that I'm sure is at least partly my own fault.

Karen leads us in an activity designed to break the ice and get us talking about our interests--much like a mixer with the intoxicating effects of suppressed cynicism and feigned interest serving as substitutes for cocktails. We reluctantly leave our seats and begin to mingle.

I meet a man who fits my initial expectations of the unemployed, malingering Seattleite. He wears sweatpants, a pilled sweatshirt, and his drowsy eyes make him look like he suffers from Seasonal Affective Disorder. When asked about job interests he hems and haws.

"I'd like to teach, to be a teacher of something," he says.

When asked what he might teach, he says, "Hiking." I peg him as a low-flyer hoping to keep under the State's radar and quietly collect his unemployment benefits for as long as possible while gluing together model airplanes at home. This workshop replaces the weekly quota of three job contacts required by the state unemployment office and I'm sure that's why he's come.

We find our seats again. We're asked whether we learned anything from the exercise. I keep quiet. The only thing I learned is that everyone in this room is just as unemployed as me. Besides that, I want to be in the computer workshop next door, not commiserating with a bunch of other luckless slobs.

"I realized that the field I'm in is not even one of my top three interests," says a thin young man who looks like a computer programmer. Several of us laugh but then I realize he's serious. He's actually come prepared for a life-changing experience in this three-hour workshop. The idea puzzles me because I don't understand how he can sincerely expect such a thing. The whole experience is so canned that I can't believe there would be anything worthwhile here.

As if to reinforce my negativity, we're introduced to the "Holland Hexagon." This is a tool developed to identify the six personality types: Realistic, Investigative, Artistic, Social, Enterprising, and Conventional.

I feel like I'm twelve years old again, sitting at the Rainbow Garden, my favorite Chinese restaurant where the placemats displayed the Chinese Zodiac. I dismiss the Holland Hexagon as government psychobabble but go along with the exercise.

Number three, Artistic, describes me best. I'm supposed to like activities "that are free, ambiguous, unsystematized and which involve the creation of art forms or products." Bingo. The State's nailed me. Now what?

We take a ten-minute break and I try to imagine a job that rewards my artistic side. One with freedom and creativity, the ability to control my own schedule. I have to admit the idea excites me but I know those jobs are few and far between.

When I catch myself thus daydreaming I begin to wonder if this workshop might really hold some grain of worth. Perhaps my jaded view of "Knowing Yourself" really is unfair and maybe I should relax and just make the best of it.

When Karen returns from break, I take a new view of the ordeal. I begin to give her a little more of my attention.

"I'm not a morning person," she says. "Yet, in my first year of college I signed up for all morning classes. I finished that year with a GPA of 1.6 and didn't go back to college until I was 32. I eventually graduated with a GPA of 3.8. Hah. Hah." Her black dangly earrings jump and spin when she throws her head back. She has subtly moved us into the part of the module designed to help us understand how we learn.

The people in the workshop are involved and lively. They ask questions and offer personal experiences while Karen takes it all in stride as if the orchestra she's conducting is playing exactly as she had planned. I'm torn between admiring her for doing her job so well and being disgusted at how smoothly she performs her role.

For the first time I notice the only decoration in the room, a poster near the front of the room. It shows a purple and yellow sunset over the ocean and a rocky shore. Perched atop a cliff is a lighthouse. The poster reads, "PERSEVERANCE...Never give up, for that is the place and time that the tide will turn."

Even though the poster could win the Kitsch Award at a small-town bake sale, it opens my eyes to what this workshop is all about: encouragement and inspiration. And, to be honest, there really are worse things to encounter when one is hovering on the edge of despair.

Smiling and full of encouragement, Karen extends an emotional connection to us, an unexpected voice of comfort arising from a State policy to return people to work. She tells us about her own bouts of unemployment and her concern appears genuine. By simply hearing what it was like for her to be unemployed--the inevitable feelings of worthlessness, envy, and despair that she experienced--I am somehow comforted.

By the end of the three hours, she has won me over. I want to help her, be inspired by her, encouraged, mothered. I want to finish sentences for her. In short, I want to believe this workshop is not a complete waste of time.

She continues, "After my divorce I went country-and-western dancing every Friday night. It was miserable but I kept doing it. I finally realized that I was basing my happiness on some stranger coming up and asking if he could touch my body. Dancing is just like the interview process. If you'd rather not be there, then be honest. Tell them that." She smiles at the faces in the crowded room. "Thank you, you've been a great group."

Spontaneous clapping breaks out. Karen looks authentically surprised but accepts it graciously, with a nod.

Outside, at 4:48 p.m., near quitting time for the working world, the day has grown lighter. My body feels drained but peaceful. Despite my doubts, the workshop has given me some ideas about fulfilling employment. For the first time in a long time I'm excited to look for a job, one that is the right match. I also vow to stop applying for jobs I wouldn't want even if I landed them.

The parking lot is almost empty and there's not a single luxury car in sight. The workshop participants have left for their various lives--to pick up children from daycare, cook dinners, and dream about job interviews. Not to mention that it's Tuesday and waiting at home in all of our mailboxes will be that weekly unemployment check in its sickly yellow envelope.

Jeff P. Jones is a Seattle writer of fiction and non-fiction. This essay is the latter.

Reader Comments

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Anonymous	Jun 11, 2002	WA	Writer
Your essay made me laugh...not at you, but with you. I recently found myself in the same situation after yet another a dot.com bombed. Hope something's turned up for you by now!


Krista	Oct 04, 2002	Seattle, WA	student- again!!


Krista	Oct 04, 2002	Seattle, WA	student- again!!
I feel your pain. I have a masters degree and I've been a server on and off for over four years. I have moved 4 times, and yet, nothing ever seems to work out. Being unemployed is the worst form of punishment I can think of. The feelings of uselessness and boredom are overwhelming at times. But, I keep on. Being a server is better than walking the streets. But, I too have felt that resentment at those that have those nice cars ( I sold my car), eat out all the time at fancy joints, ( I never eat out). Just once I'd like to not worry if I'm gonna make rent or not. For being a citizen of the wealthiest nation- I can't help but feel like somehow, something went wrong. But, I'm in school again, to see if I can somehow change the path I've been on, and see if I get it right. Thanks for the empathy. It's true that misery loves company. It's lonely out here.


Pat Kilby	Oct 07, 2002	sadfg	Music
Jeff, thanks for the laugh and the encouragement. I hope you're writing somewhere and getting paid for it. Painting was one of my "fallback" jobs. Now I earn more painting than I did as an IT guy, and I actually enjoy it more. I set my own hours, act as my own boss, meet new people, use my hands, see results and win new contracts--it's got a lot of elements I didn't have sitting in front of a computer. While I'm not sure it's my "dream job", it's a nice way to make a few bucks while looking for other work and keeps me from going stir crazy. It's also taught me about some of the elements my "real jobs" have been lacking that I'd like to find in future work. The key to finding work you enjoy is knowing exactly what you're looking for, and knowing that is always the toughest search of all. Good luck to you all.


CG	Nov 13, 2002	Seattle	unemployed
10 months of unemployment with hundreds if not thousands of applications to web sites, email, and in person. I can't help feeling as if it isnt just me that is at fault here but that after more than 15 years in the high tech field - encountering so many companies with half-baked ways to make money - including those that hired me to figure out how to do it, then RIF'd me once they had the information - I can't help feeling that I will never trust them again. The smart tech people should have been more interested in the business side of things. For me by the time I saw the writing on the wall it was too late. Who am I? Smart, talented, and haunted by my inability to communicate and successfully leverage the management above me and struck by how frightened they were and are by the tide of technology itself. Did you know for example that there was actually a company who raised money to store URLs? I could not even get a temp job working for the Bon over the holidays. Every one of my friends is unemployed except for two people. I think the unemployment rate is much higher than the stats say.


melinda	Nov 14, 2002	seattle	tv producer
CG: I'm looking for unemployed highly skilled tech workers to be interviewed for a PBS show. If you are interested e mail me at mindy1165@aol.com Thanks.


PUCK	Jul 19, 2003	u district	"dancer"
i'm also jobless in seattle. I've been looking for work for over 10 months. its been such a struggle. i need a job so bad. have you found anything? do you have any leads....winter is comming and i'm not looking forward to it. but i'm a great worker and would love to get into the mainstream of things and work and pay rent. I'm also homeless.....WHAT DO I DO


macker	Sep 04, 2003	downtown seattle	IT operations
someone please put me out of my misery


Noah	Nov 09, 2003	Rochester, MN	Artist
Thanks for making me feel better about NOT applying to work at my 6th restaurant. Best of luck to you.


Val	Mar 19, 2004	Seattle	IT analyst
I've been job searching for over 3 months. I just went for an interview where they told me they wanted to start me immediately, but till now a week later, no news from them. I've called them thrice to ask, yet they tell me they'd get back to me. This is excruciating since I have put off all other interviews, etc. As if it is not enough, I am bored out of my wits being home bound by this joblessness. To all others who have been hunting for a long time, I feel with you...


Sunshine	Apr 15, 2004	Seattle	Administrative
As a single mother, being out of work for 15 months has definitely had it's effect on me. Daily, I feel the strain of not bringing in efficient funds, especially when my two kids look up at me with big eyes wondering when we can go to Disneyland and I can't get enough money together to take them on rides at Seattle Center let alone to CA, or FL....The searching is incessant, and at times ridiculous the way you are made to pawn for a single position that you are more than qualified for. It's either that, or you are overqualified!!! I WANT TO KICK AND SCREAM, when I hear that one....I feel like God is teaching me a lesson for complaining about my previous comfy job that relocated out of the state. If I get a job soon, I promise to never verbally do it again (that doesn't include lamenting mentally), that's for certain.


Jeff Jones	Dec 23, 2005	Idaho	Writer, Instructor
Wow, I hadn't checked this article in years and to see all the posts from fellow jobless folks gave me pause. I think it's important, when not working, to somehow stay involved--the more groups and friends you keep up with, the more likely you'll find something and the more you can refine your sense of what you really want to do. I finally ended up going back to school for what I really loved--writing. I've just finished my degree and am teaching writing part-time now while slowly pursuing a writing career. I wish everyone who responded all the best--I hope you've found employment that is meaningful. Pat makes the point and I think it's true--the better you know exactly what you want to do, the more you'll likely succeed and do so with optimism. Just keep believing that things will eventually turn for the better and they will!

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