Unemployment is strange.
Last month, I wrote about my job with Better Mortgage, and how I was abruptly laid off alongside 250 others just before Labor Day. Those layoffs happened two months ago. During that time, I’ve polished my resume, networked with companies, and dove deeper into my MBA curriculum at the University of Michigan. On the surface, it’s been nice. Beneath the surface, though, is the stark reality of living life without a job that’s been challenging to grapple with: I don’t really have anything to do, and I don’t really have anywhere to be.
It’s pretty well understood that a job gives your day structure and your actions purpose: this is especially true among men, and increasingly true for women1. The things you do for work are things of consequence. Your livelihood depends on them. Without a job, your actions don’t feel like they matter as much.
Yes, I need to prepare for interviews and apply for jobs, and that’s important.
But it isn’t hit-the-tight-deadline-for-my-boss-so-she-can-have-an-analysis-ready-to-present-to-the-executive-team-the-world-is-ending-go-go-go important.
I suppose the word for that is “urgent”, and nothing feels urgent anymore.
So no urgency, no structure, and no real responsibility. It’s a dangerous way to live. It’s also the exact opposite of what I thought life without work would be. I thought I’d squeeze more into a day, because the time I’m wasting is now uniquely mine. But without an intense amount of discipline, that really doesn’t happen. Words don’t fall onto a page unless you force yourself to sit and write consistently. Interviews don’t perfect themselves without practice. Weights won’t lift themselves.
In science fiction, the concept of time dilation is ubiquitous: as you move closer to the speed of light, the passage of time slows. Moving fast makes time slow down. The inverse seems to be true when you’re not working. You move a bit more slowly, and the passage of time speeds up. I check a few things off of my to-do list only to see that the sun has set and the day has ended. I’m taking longer, I’m moving slower, and the laws of physics are working against me.
I looked in the mirror recently and saw a few cuts on my face from a Jiu-Jitsu match. Red raised skin, rebelling from friction, reminding me that I should be training more often than I have been. Winners don’t get mat burn. Behind me, a laptop screen displays a blank word processor. On it, a faint black cursor blinks like a turn signal, the slow and steady motion feeling like a Morse-coded message.
Do.
More.
Do.
More.
When I think of the times I’m the best version of myself, they’re times where I’m shouldering responsibility, forced to prioritize things that are most important, strong-armed into spending my days wisely. The unlimited freedom and structureless existence of life without work turns the volume down on those better qualities, bringing out sides I actively resist: little bits of sloth and laziness, setting ambition aside for another day2.
So here’s to a third month chasing work. A bit more structure, a bit more discipline, and fewer blemishes from eating the mat at Jiu-Jitsu.
Onward.
I’ve been reading Of Boys and Men by Richard Reeves, which I would highly recommend for a more nuanced outlook on the fight for gender equality. Reeves simultaneously holds very woke and very divergent perspectives on gender, race, and the modern economy. His core thesis is that we’ve redefined where women derive meaning (no longer the home-bound nurturer of Societies of Old), but have failed to do so for men, offering practical solutions along the way.
There’s just no way this is unique to me, and chronic unemployment/underemployment cannot be good for the long run emotional and physical health of folks who experience it. This ties in pretty directly with footnote 1, too.
Your writing continues to be superb
Right before Labor Day? Talk about a long weekend!