Another Hit to the Fragile Ego in I am I Said.
Revised: 06/01/2016 8:31 p.m.
- April 25, 2016, midnight
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- Public
As if losing your job of 16-years isn’t enough right before the holidays and a major surgery isn’t enough.
As if spending between five to seven hours every day scouring employment websites and newspapers and submitting resume and cover letters after resumes and cover letters isn’t enough.
As if being rejected over and over and over again for nearly 7-months now isn’t enough.
As if having to cash in your first small retirement fund accounts because Unemployment only pays you enough to keep your home and car with nothing leftover to live on, knowing you’re going to get bent over and fucked hard and dry come tax season, isn’t enough.
As if having to cash out your major, albeit pitiful retirement account to put it into an personal IRA account isn’t enough.
I have to be humiliated more? I had to speak with a financial counselor at the request of my bank because of the amount of the check received. They wanted me to know my options apparently. It was a free consultation which is a good thing because had I been asked to pay for this? I might have went over the table and punched the woman in the mouth.
Financial advisor basically tells me what I knew already … I’m pretty fucked no matter which way I look and there’s nothing she can tell me I didn’t already know. I have to place that money into an IRA that I have access too because come the middle of May? There are no more Unemployment benefits for me. I am on my own. She’s fucking sitting there and telling me I need to find a job! Asking me if anyone has looked at my resume to see if it’s “good enough for today’s market.” I tell her I have and she suggests I pay someone to do a resume rework for me. I wanted to scream, “LADY what part of UNEMPLOYED don’t you get?! Do you think I am about to spend $500.00 or whatever for someone to re-do resume?” Instead, my eyes started to fill up, as I am prone to do lately because I am so depressed I am ready to toss myself off a cliff right now. I explain to her that the Career Center has already reviewed my resume and they said it is fine after I reworked it a little but to suit today’s job search engine software.
The issue isn’t my resume, my qualifications, my experience, my education. It’s this insane fucking job market and small and even large businesses not hiring full-time workers because then they do not have to pay health insurance or offer any benefits whatsoever. I’ve got 10-years experience in the insurance field, I’ve got 16+-years in the legal field!
As if this isn’t hard enough every fucking day? Now I have some financial consultant telling me I need to get my hair done and cut it, I need a makeover, I need to walk, that I need to put some makeup on and dress up. I explained, “I obviously do not dress like this when I go on a job interview, ma’am. I do my hair, I paint my face, I pull out the professional clothing. Spending money on getting my hair done right now isn’t really a great idea, you know, as I am trying to cut costs everywhere I can.” She goes on that I should be taking anything being offered to me at this point because that’s the way it is. That if I don’t take just any job right now I am going to be hit hard when I do dip into the IRA to fucking survive and try and keep my house. That I should walk away from my old job and the health insurance he is continuing for me to work 1 day a week, pay the fucking premium this fucked up state wants me to pay for health insurance and wing it working as many part-time jobs at $15.00 an hour that I can get. Then the kicker? “Since you’re sitting on an asset, your home – I’d consider thinking about selling it now because in 6-months, you’re going to be out of money.”
Yes, lovely, thanks lady — thanks for cementing the fucking anxiety I struggle with every fucking day … thanks for reassuring me what I already know — there’s a really good chance I am going to lose the home I fought and worked for since I was 15-years-old and struggling to survive on the streets of Lynn by myself. Thank you, thank you very much.
I barely made it out of there before really breaking down and I sobbed my way home up Route 1 and am crying still. Thanks honey, thanks a lot for kicking me when I am already below the gutter any way.
Last updated June 01, 2016
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