The Unemployed Life
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Desks, Desks, Millions of Empty Desks
When I found out last fall I was going to be laid off, visions of isolation began dancing through my head. I would be stuck working at my tiny desk in a gloomy corner of my 12 x 17 studio, all day long. Alone.
I quickly recruited several other office-less friends, all willing to spend $200 a month to avoid working at home. And then, I set out in search of desks.
With millions of square feet emptying out in cities all over the country, vacant cubicles have become legion and commercial lease holders very nervous. Here’s how you can make that work for you:
Out on the Street: From Bankers to Wankers
Each week, “Joe the Trader” chronicles his experiences with life after Wall Street.
“Where have you gone Gordon Gecko? Wall Street turns its lonely eyes to you. Oooh hoo oooh…” I found myself making up words to Simon and Garfunkle’s “Mrs. Robinson” as I walked to my local coffee shop for another He-Man’s Unemployment Club meeting. Increasingly it seems to me that the current financial crisis is going to be a seminal event in the culture of our nation.
The jury may still be out on broad societal shifts, but the public quickly volunteered to be judge, jury and executioner for the Wall Street fat cats. Even in the halcyon days of 2006, Wall Street guys were called douchebags. I imagine it won’t be long before John Thain, Dick Fuld and their army of financial engineers will be wandering Gitmo in orange suits.
Grieving for What Was Never Mine
The last time I saw my office, it gleamed.
L-shaped and lining the far corner of the room, the desktop was smudge-free and freshly polished. My flat-panel monitor stood proudly at the bend, my shiny laptop next to it. My Herman Miller chair was pulled up neatly to the desk, ready to offer support.
It was exactly as I’d always wanted it to be—as it almost was the moment I moved into the space, in the spring of 2007, when I was upped from an over-sized cubicle to an office with a door (a door!), my name emblazoned next to it.
Since then, I had added my chair, worked the lighting to soften the fluorescent glare, arranged the guest seats to be welcoming. It was warm, efficient, buzzing with possibilities.
Happy Holidays! Here’s Your Pinkslip
“I’m sorry to have to do this but, as we’ve lost a third of our client base and assets have plummeted, we must reduce costs and have decided to let you go. We no longer need three of you in investor relations. I know you have been here the longest, but I think Girl #2 and Guy #3 have more room to grow in the company (read: there is no upward mobility and we expect that you will leave us before they do). We appreciate your contributions and want you to know that you can come to us for recommendations for future employers.
The Just-Laid-Off Checklist
I used to complain that my parents never taught me how to negotiate for a pay raise. Turns out, that wasn’t my only knowledge gap—nobody told me how to navigate a pay elimination. I’m not just talking about what to do with the severance papers and your 401 (k), but how to feel like the world hasn’t been turned inside-out. Here’s my hard-won advice for the first hours, days, and weeks after a layoff.
Call the most sympathetic person in your life. This may or may not be your mother. Save anyone who is prone to freakouts for later in the day—or year. (My grandfather thinks it’s my fault I got laid off, which is one reason I’ve been “too busy” to visit.) Call the person who is going to listen, commiserate, stroke your ego, and think no less of you if you cry. That last part goes double if you’re a dude.
Layoffs on the Menu
It used to be that if you were out of work, you could always wait tables. Freelancers, actors, and recent college grads have long relied on this economic truism as a hedge against hard times. But a Saturday piece in The Orlando Sentinel that caught our eye suggests that the times are a-changin. Sandra Pedicini’s “Slump takes toll; servers lose jobs as restaurants cut back” chronicles the woes of restaurant staff as tips dwindle and layoffs pile up faster than food orders. Waitstaff at the acclaimed Manuel’s on the 28th at the Bank of America Center’s top floor once held some of the most enviable jobs in town. Last week, these servers joined the ranks of the 91,700 restaurant, bar and food-service workers across the country who have found themselves jobless in the last six months…
Out on the Street: F*@# You Money
Each week, “Joe the Trader” chronicles his experiences with life after Wall Street.
The first time I ever heard about F*@# You Money, I was a young economic researcher in the government, getting paid shit. I remember thinking, could these Wall Street guys be any more vulgar? Not only was the amount of money they made offensive, but the ultimate measure of success was in fact an expletive. However, by the time I reached Wall Street, after a few years of government wages and a couple more struggling through most of a doctoral program, I was willing to accept a little more vulgarity. In fact, I embraced the idea of F@&* You Money.
Second Careers for Failed C.E.O.s
Everyone is slamming C.E.O.s for their incompetence and excessive spending (conveniently forgetting that two years ago we didn’t care as long as we were making money, too). These guys don’t need to be judged—they need sympathy, understanding, and most of all, job advice. So we thought we’d suggest second careers for some of the Recession’s fallen corporate heroes.
The Incredible Shrinking Severance Check
When the check comes in the mail, it’s never as big as you imagined it would be. You were promised eight weeks, but the amount is closer to six.
Before your paranoia has you wondering whether you’re finally being penalized for illicit use of the office photocopier or swiping extra cream cheese packets from the cafeteria, you could try…
The Cure for Aeron Chair Withdrawal
We were barely able to write this post because we’re so busy doing Wall Angels. What are Wall Angels? Practically miraculous—and free—posture-picker-uppers, perfect for new freelancers/consultants/employment-challenged individuals who are hunched over their dining room tables.
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