Below is an excerpt from my memoir, Joey Somebody, The Life and Times of a Recovering Douchebag. These were my raw thoughts after I was laid off from my tech job in 2003. Unemployed. Downgraded. Downsized. Circumcised. A plug ripped out from the wall by its cord. In a culture that congratulated long hours of hard work and classified sloth as a deadly sin, involuntary unemployment felt cruel and unusual, solitary and confining, lethal even in small doses. Status demoted from preferred to unauthorized. From insider to trespasser. Dumped to the curb, coveting the secret codes and card keys employed by the good morning coffee people pouring warm into office buildings. I necessarily stopped spending money on nonessentials and discovered this consumer cleansing ritual to be surprisingly calming and therapeutic. A late lesson for a man in his mid-thirties. My spirit continued to learn from my temporary employment challenges, but my ego ached to be back in the active position of protecting and loving, producing and contributing, inspiring and succeeding. To do whatever it was I was supposed to do. To be big again.
A civilized society should have state benefits, and there should be no stigma around claiming them when you need help and you qualify. I am sure this piece will help anyone facing this and the post script is so kind.
A civilized society should have state benefits, and there should be no stigma around claiming them when you need help and you qualify. I am sure this piece will help anyone facing this and the post script is so kind.