It's a Job

This is a statement I’ve been hearing a lot recently from my peer group. Now that we are approaching retirement age, we are discovering that we’re not ready or prepared to take this giant step into the AARP world.

I never thought I’d be one of those saying, “It’s a job,” when asked about my work. I have always been one to look at my job in terms of contribution, fulfillment, and adding value to my workplace. I’ve spent the past twenty years pursuing a dream, searching for my bliss, and hoping that whatever I was doing was making a difference to someone besides myself. I’ve been guilty of bragging about my accomplishments and at times getting a swelled head over the importance of my job. Not any more.

After being laid off from a dream job in 2009, my attitude toward work and a paycheck has changed. While I was unemployed, I watched from the sidelines as several of my friends, who had retired with comfortable pensions, enjoyed their leisure time and newfound freedom. While I was simplifying my life in adjustment to leaner days, it seemed that they were out there living it up and living the high life. I was envious, and my skin was turning an eerie shade of green.

Recently, things have changed. I was offered a full-time job (finally!), and re-entered the workforce in a job that has little connection to my experience or education. It isn’t fulfilling or challenging, the pay isn’t great, but it’s a job. The company is a good one, and my co-workers are entertaining and fun to work with. I don’t dread going to work, but I daydream of greener pastures out there somewhere in retirement-land one of these days. I like my paycheck, especially now that I am watching my meager retirement fund vanishing before my eyes with the plunging stock market. I am thankful that I have a job.

What I find to be very interesting, however, is that many of my retired friends are now in job search mode. Evidently, their pensions aren’t enough to support their lifestyles, or retirement isn’t what it was cracked up to be, and they are looking for a job – any job. Every time I get together with high school friends, they ask me about my work, and ask me to keep my eyes and ears out for them. They want a job! And those who are either still working, or have been lucky enough to land something, will inevitably say when I ask them about their work, “It’s a job.”

And at this point in life, it’s enough.

Reflections On My Year of Unemployment

When I was laid off in March 2009, I welcomed my newfound freedom with a variety of emotions, countless doubts and fears about the future, and a nagging feeling that I might finally be old enough to be retired. Spring was on its way, Phil and I were planning to plant a big vegetable garden, and I welcomed the free time I now had to get ready for the summer season, pushing my negative thoughts to the back of my mind. I was ready to pick berries and fruit, make jelly, bake bread, and learn how to freeze vegetables. I also began my job search, silently hoping that nothing would come my way until after the summer harvest.

During the first few months of unemployment, I worked my way through the bitterness I felt over being let go from a job I loved, changing gears in my mind of what I needed to concentrate on, and accepting with gratitude a weekly unemployment check. I prayed a daily prayer to God that He would send me a new job that I would love as much as my previous one. I talked about reinventing myself, although I didn’t have a clue over who the new Jennie might be or what she’d look like. Secretly, I hoped that I would receive a phone call from my employer with an apology for having let me go and an invitation to come back. I imagined my answer, along with my list of conditions for returning, and pictured myself once again working on my beloved Knowledge Center Online, the internet library I had created and managed for almost five years.

I was in for a myriad of surprises. First, nobody called me, inviting me to come back to my old job. Second, my professional network which I felt would jump at the opportunity to hire someone like me with my wealth of experience wasn’t interested at all in me. And third, I discovered that age discrimination is alive and doing very well as I applied for, and was rejected from, jobs that seemed perfect for me. Was I really getting old? Was it time for me to mosey out to pasture? And, lastly, I began to enjoy my days – going for long walks with my dog, trying new recipes for baking bread, and picking up my knitting needles and crochet hooks again.

After we put our summer garden to bed for the winter, I came indoors for the coldest, wettest winter in Georgia that I can ever remember. With the long winter, I experienced a bout of mild depression, and sat on the pity potty for a few days, but decided that it was not a comfortable place to sit for very long, and concentrated on keeping on keeping on. I hunkered down at the computer, still looking for the perfect job, but also picked up a novel I had begun working on a couple of years ago, and began writing again. A friend of mine asked me if I could help her out one day a week for a month or two to help her dig out from a pile of work that she had been too busy to take care of in her business. I still prayed for that elusive job, hopeful that God would place an opportunity in my lap that would put me back into the wage-earning world. With each application I sent in and with each email that contained my resume, I believed that a new job was just around the corner.

It is now May 2010, and I am still officially unemployed. I quit asking God for a job a few months ago. Why? Because one day I discovered that God had answered my prayer with one that wasn’t at all what I expected. I am still helping out my friend one day each week, and have been a listening ear and support for her during what I think must be the most difficult year in her life. We both agree that God had a hand in putting me in her office for a very special purpose. I am also tutoring writing and English one evening a week at Georgia Perimeter College, where I help struggling young (and not-so-young) students with their writing assignments. I have taken my love for photography, which is strictly amateur, into the creation of photo note cards that I have begun selling to friends and family and giving as gifts. I also have plans to sell my knitted and crocheted baby wash cloths and kitchen dish cloths at a fall craft festival. In addition, I’ll set up my table every Saturday morning this summer at the outdoor market in Monroe to sell my home-made bread and jellies, as well as some of the surplus from our garden. My novel is in the hands of a literary agent, and I am waiting with fingers crossed that she’ll like it. My life is full, and while I am not collecting a regular paycheck, I am enjoying life more than I have in years.

What has amazed me the most during this past year is that Phil and I continue to pay our monthly bills and have enough each month to keep us from digging into our savings to any great extent. We’ve discovered that by simplifying our life, sharing and bartering with our neighbors, and opening our home to friends for hot meals and friendly hospitality, we’re doing just fine. We’ve had some challenges, but somehow each one has been resolved without throwing us into a tailspin.

I am still open to having a job plop into my lap, but only if God finds one that is perfect for me. I continue to look, since I have to in order to keep the unemployment checks coming, but they will run out eventually, and they’ll need to be replaced with income from another source. But then, Phil and I are both close to Social Security age, so maybe retirement isn’t such a bad thing, after all!

Wedding Rings and Old Men

Now that I am baking bread on a regular basis – about three times a week- I’ve made a new discovery about myself. The only relation this has with bread is that I take off my wedding band to knead my bread.

Not that this is a big Ah-haa moment in itself. I tuck my ring into a safe place in my kitchen (one of my three logical places) while I am making my bread. What I find fascinating are the interesting encounters I make along my way if I don’t remember to put the ring back on before going out somewhere.

Old men are flirting with me. At first, I couldn’t figure out what was going on. But then it dawned on me. Old men look for wedding bands. When they don’t see one, it’s open season for them to flirt. The discovery I’ve made is that these old men aren’t necessarily looking for beautiful young women, but for women in their own age group. Interesting, now that I know what’s going on.

Yesterday at the grocery store when I was checking out, a gray-haired (maybe a few years older than me) gentleman was bagging my groceries. He struck up a conversation with me about the beautiful day and what a nice Spring we are having. Then he took the dive – he asked me if I lived nearby. At first, I didn’t realize what was going on. But as I was talking to him, I noticed that he kept looking at my left hand. No ring- I had just finished baking two loaves of bread before going to the store. He proceeded to tell me that he was a widower and was working at the store part-time now that he was retired. Since it was mid-morning, I'm sure that he assumed I was retired, too, and single. When he offered to wheel my buggy to my car for me, I politely refused, causing a stricken look to appear on his face. Rejection! Oh my, I should have put my wedding band back on before going to the store.

Something similar to this has happened three times in the past week. What is revealing to me now as I look back at these men is that I see that they could have been my high school classmates. Of course, I haven’t aged in forty years, but they sure have. Or maybe I have. Which is why they are flirting with me. Second Oh My!! And second Ah-haa!

I think I’ll start making a point to put my ring back on as soon as the bread comes out of the oven.