It was a happy, peaceful time; something I couldn't have expected. I ate well, read important books, exercised regularly and felt my well-being climb. I didn't spend a day of those six months at steady work. Extended vacation? Maternity leave? Nope. Unemployment.
Most of us fear joblessness — but if you make the best of it, it can be a time for rejuvenation, self-improvement, and even a little fun. I don't think I'm alone. I've heard it confided in whispers that unemployment — despite the obvious downside — can carry unforeseen joys. Case in point: mine. I was miserable living in a depressing apartment in an ill-favored suburb, until I lost my equally distressing job. That's when things took a turn for the better.
Of course, the big drawback to having no work is, you also have no money. Or, not enough to speak of. On the other hand, you do have time. Even if you're lucky enough to get interviews, even if you're spending a good portion of your week on rewriting and printing your resume, you have lots more time at home than ever before. I read books on developing a positive outlook and generally succeeding in life. I actually cleaned my stove as soon as something spilled on it. Cleaned the rest of my apartment, too.
I exercised during the time I used to spend rushing to get out the door. (The job that excused me had required a 7:30 a.m. arrival time.) I watched a classic sitcom in the afternoons. I cooked. Now, it's true I no longer enjoyed much of a food budget. But it's also true that I now had enough time most days to prepare a pot of lentil or split pea soup, a nutritional, and financial, bargain. I could bake bread, too.
Toward the end, I was growing so tired of reconstituted peas and Cream of Wheat that, at least once I combined them just for a change. And I did resort to eating straight sugar once or twice (something I do not recommend if you are older than 26 — which I wasn't). But most of the time, I learned to make wise buying choices.
And I definitely learned first-hand about the generosity of my friends. On the last day of my job, I'd gotten into a fender bender on the way home. I was fine, but the car was nearly totaled. So I lost the use of my car for the week it spent in the shop. Oh, and I had little experience renting apartments. I didn't know who was sending the former tenant all those notices. I forwarded them and forgot about it. Care to guess the contents of the mystery mail? Electricity bills. I returned from that last workday to a dark dwelling. Even after my kindly landlord drove to Narragansett Electric in person to plead my case, the power would remain off for a full week. I was a plucky lass. (Must have been all those positive-attitude books.)
I started walking everywhere. Without electricity, I paid attention to when the sun set; read by a thoughtful neighbor's candelabra or by flashlight; got to sleep early and slept for eight hours. I continued to do so even after the power came back. After all, when you have absolutely nothing to spend on a social life, turning in early becomes a good idea. The gas stove still worked, though the refrigerator didn't. Bean soup and cooked cereal saved the day, though I couldn't save the leftovers.
Of course, unemployment benefits will run out, as will tolerance for poverty. I once found myself buying a postage stamp with change I fished out of my car, plus the dime from my phonograph needle. (It was back in the Reagan days, when a few of us did have CD players, kids, but they were still a novelty.) Sometimes, I felt ingenious, other times, simply depressed. My little brother visited at about this time and, when he asked where my dishwasher was, I said, "Rob, I'm poor." He answered, all innocence, "I feel awful for you."
With the next job came a steady paycheck... and an end to my healthful lifestyle, clean home and comparatively low stress level. But at least I learned that unemployment is survivable. Even, at times, enjoyable.
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