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Love in the Time of Layoff: Coming Home Again

On Tuesday, my husband found out that his freelance work with the firm that picked him up three days after the Layoff is now drying up. Yesterday was his first day “back” at home.

“So, does this make you, like, laid off times two?” I asked in a lame appeal to mask my panic with humor.

“Nah, it’s much better,” he said. I asked him to explain.

Turns out, there are Layoffs and there are layoffs. Technically, of course, this latest downsizing of my beloved doesn’t count as a layoff at all, since Marco hadn’t been on staff at that firm. When his supervisor told him there was no more work for him right now, there was no sense of betrayal, no dark questioning (why me? why not him or her?), nothing personal. Other freelancers had been slowly disappearing. He knew things had been winding down.

The social and economic contract of a freelancer is that you’re there to fill a temporary need. You’re an extra set of hands, some extra expertise. You hope that the projects come in steadily enough to allow you to stay on, but you know that there may be a dry spell, and when that day comes, it’s hardly a surprise. There’s also the implicit understanding that when there’s more work, you can come back.

It’s simply not personal. But that’s the downside, too. “I never got emotionally attached,” said Marco. And he would have liked to; he’s a social kind of guy. Freelancers can feel isolated—especially when they’re a little older than their temporary colleagues, as was the case here. “As a freelancer, there’s this pressure not to hang out by the water cooler when you’re on the clock,” Marco says. There’s also a certain distance kept between you and the work. You don’t have ownership. If the work gets recognition or an award, a freelancer is not guaranteed credit. Nobody on the outside knows who you are. You feel anonymous. You’re not really a full personality within the organization. It’s like meeting someone at a bar, taking them home, and realizing you never even got their last name.

So here we are once again, both of us working at home, me on my writing and consulting, Marco on his design portfolio. I’m taking pains not to slip back into that awful mode of helicopter spouse. He’s being more careful this time not to look like he’s slipping into eternal weekend mode. While we’re a little freaked out and holding each other close, it’s not like we’re having to recover from another unexpected great blow. It feels like an open moment, both for Marco and for our relationship. We’re both on the tightrope, keeping our balance. And for now, that feels okay

Deborah Siegel is the author of Sisterhood, Interrupted: From Radical Women to Grrls Gone Wild and creator of the group blog Girl w/Pen. Read more of her Love in the Time of Layoff columns here.

Tags: employers, family, home, job-hunting, Love in the Time of Layoff, relationships, The Unemployed Life, working at home