There is no easy way, and if there is it’s been done by other bloggers in the past 18 months, to announce that you’ve suffered a job loss in the family, so I’ll just say it:
Scott got laid off on Thursday.
I can’t go into too many details or nitty gritty or commentary for a variety of reasons that popped up after news of his layoff surfaced here in Chicago. Word traveled very fast, as it does in this day and age of Twitter, especially if you’re a media person. I will say this: my husband handled this all with class and grace and the outpouring of support from friends and peers in the industry has been a little overwhelming. (See A Tribute to Scott Smith for a few giggles. Our friend Marcus is the best.) My husband has been fielding calls and emails and meeting requests from many fine folks who would like to talk to him about maybe working for them. I don’t know that Scott knows what he’s going to do next, but the subsequent reactions to his layoff have bolstered our confidence that all will not be lost for The Smiths. As my friend, Beth, mentioned to me on Facebook: When your layoff is newsworthy, you’re probably going to be alright. Here’s to hoping she’s correct.
I’ve mentioned before that I’m a control freak penny pincher because I live a portion of my life preparing for the worst because the worst happens. It just does. Everyone’s “worst” varies by certain degrees, but life is not free of pitfalls and valleys. For me, losing a job qualifies as “the worst.” It is the thing I dread and fear more than dying. With dying, that’s the end of it. When you’re out of job, the suffering just goes on and on and on. When my father lost his job, I was 12 and my world came crashing down in such a spectacular fashion that the experience haunts me to this day. Nearly everything I do is done in service of not having to feel that way ever again.
(Coincidentally, my father’s layoff also made the news. The men in my life don’t do things small, apparently.)
We never lost our home. I didn’t even have to leave the Catholic school I’d been attending. But money was tight and forever was the sword of Damocles hanging over our collective heads. The anxiety was brutal. Just thinking about it makes me want to eat a bag of Baked Cheetos.
I got the text from Scott while I was in a meeting with two of my friends from work, who truly are my friends, so that when the color drained from my face and I repeated the phrase “We’re OK. This is OK.” I didn’t feel like an absolute twit. And you know what? I did what I’d always hoped I do: I moved along. I was a little distracted, sure, but I worked a full day and then went home to crunch numbers and commiserate with my husband.
Another thing happened: My planning worked. I’d done the very thing I’d wanted, and that was to provide a buffer for my family. Granted, it’s all made easier because I have a job, but I took the advice to live on half to heart, which means we really can live off my paycheck for the time being. And while we won’t be stashing away as much, we can still continue to set aside a sizable amount to savings each month. And it dawned on us last night: Oh that’s right! Unemployment!
(Can I ask that everyone save their commentary or advice on unemployment for the time being? Yes, I know you have to apply right away. Yes, I know it’s not free. Yes, I know he has to show that he’s “applying for jobs,” which, OY. Worst. Job. Advice. Ever.)
I am, of course, in crackdown mode. Just because we can still live comfortably doesn’t mean we are going to. I mean, where is the fun in that? I’m Catholic. We like to suffer whenever possible. It’s a sport for us.
But at the end of the day, what’s most notable, is not that we’re not headed for the poor house but that we’ve maintained our sense of humor. Neither of us fell into a pit of despair, and we haven’t fought once. There is a road to hoe, absolutely, but this is just one more adventure for us to have together in a planned lifetime of adventures. Sure, I got teary-eyed yesterday, getting off the train by myself. I loved walking to work with Scott, and that’s on pause for the moment. But it’s nice having him home when I get home.
It’ll end before I get used to it, but he’s promised to take care of a lot of household duties and chores that usually wait till the weekend. Perhaps there will be a cooked meal or two.
To sum: We’re OK. It’s OK. It’s not ideal, but I’m not plagued with anxiety like I thought I might be. Mostly I’m happy because my husband is happy and he has not been happy in a long, long, long time. It sucks that it took losing his job for it to happen, but sometimes you gotta put up with the rain to get the rainbows.
And so we move forward.
