Something Lacking

The past two months back in Portland have been wonderful. It's been a joy seeing people again, and great getting reacquainted with my hometown. I've made a lot of headway in terms of my long-term plans, and my social life is pretty active. I've got a great place in a hip part of town, am going to a party tomorrow night, and I'm pursuing my interests with verve and enthusiasm. Everything is great except for one teensy little detail: I need a job.

When I was sixteen years old I walked into a Fred Meyer, Portland's local big-box retailer, and asked for a job. Soon after that I was wearing a smock and name tag, pushing shopping carts around in the parking lot. When I was twenty, I needed a gig and went to a temp agency. Soon, I was ungumming machines in the back room of a Bank of America, a low-paying but uncomplicated job, one that didn't weigh on me at all when I left. At twenty-three I walked into my favorite bookstore and asked to be hired. I got the job because a friend of a friend had been able to hook me up with it, and I worked their for three years before I left the country.

I've always seen the ability to get an okay job at will as a sort of entitlement. I'm educated, competent, and have a pretty good resume. I like to think that I make a pretty good impression in interviews. I went to college, graduated in four years, and have been employed full time since then. At the risk of sounding sanctimonious, I'm someone who has played by all of the rules.

And yet I can't get a job. Neither can anyone else, for that matter.

It's infuriating. It's not only infuriating for financial reasons (those, though are quite surmountable) but infuriating because one has the urge to make some sort of moral connection between behavior and situation. On a very regular basis, I have to tell myself that this is something that is happening to a lot of good, qualified people. I'm not in the position I'm in because I've failed in some way. I've gotten employed several times before, after all, and I'm now more qualified, more experienced, more confident, and more employable than I've ever been. My troubles do not reflect any regression or shortcomings on my part, yet unemployment comes with a sneaking tentacle of judgment, wrapping itself around the base of the mind. Responding to ads, updating my resume, and calling about jobs is a part of my daily routine, but on top of that I need to continually reemphasize my own sense of self-worth.

I know that it's completely irrational. Bad things happen to good people, shit happens, etc. We have cliches about it. But even the comfort of knowing that this experience is shared by so many people, so many that it's become a cliche, doesn't erase the dissatisfaction. My dissatisfaction is mitigated, though, when I remind myself that I, for instance, have a degree but no kids. I know that there are thousands of unemployed people who have kids, but no degree, and life is much harder for them. Despite my frustration, I'm still one of the lucky ones.

There's obviously a political dimension to all of this, and in terms of politics, I like to think of myself as someone who doens't give into emotion or ideology. I try, as much as possible, to be non-dogmatic and reasonable when it comes to making political decisions, and for that reason I've been leery of a lot of the populist anger that people have had regarding the bailouts and such. Yes, there would be certain amount of vengeful satisfaction if we were to tax the hell out the the AIG executives, for instance, but that probably won't do much to fix the economy. We will get out of this by using our heads, not by crying havoc.

Despite that, I'm angry. Very angry, and I have the right to be. I'm angry for myself and I'm angry for all those other people who want to work, but can't. All I did was come home, hoping to get some random job before I leave the country again. That's it. Not a career, not something super high-paying. Just a job to pay the bills for the time being. But even that is gone, and I'm livid because of it.