N E X T J O U R N E Y . O R G
UNEMPLOYED
L A T E   A P R I L   2 0 0 5

It is the paradox of my life: as an immigrant I took charge of my life, but as a businessman I was second in command to the business itself.

Once, in a shopping mall, I saw a maintenance man polishing the floor. The tiles were already very shiny and the man had some difficulty keeping the large buffing machine going where he wanted it to. That beast of a machine had a mind of its own. It wanted to glide left, then right. The man allowed the machine some freedom, but he couldn't let it go free either, careening toward the skin care counter.

As a businessman, I remembered that man and that machine frequently. Although my business was a success in its field, it was an entity stronger than my own will. There were times when the business went in the direction I wished, a source of contentment. But at other times it was a struggle to keep it on track.

 Why am I haunted by the vision of the custodian with the floor polisher? What does the image mean? 

The custodian was doing a superb job. The floors were as reflective as the surface of an untroubled lake. The man was not struggling with the machine, just controlling it delicately.

I guess the power of the image relates to ancient creeds such as predetermination: does my floor buffer know where I am going? Does yours? In that case should I follow it trustingly, or should I fight the machine's every move?
 
Now I am in the last stages of passing on the control and the ownership of my business to a fresh team who will do at they wish with it. I know I will not regret selling the business, as I am not one to regret anything. Still, I must look back a little, at least enough not to repeat my mistakes.

I had the great fortune of operating a business with a business partner whom I trusted absolutely. That was like winning the lottery: unlikely to happen again.

My career, my job, had four distinct aspects, each with its satisfactions and its headaches. Perhaps the skills I have developed in these distinct area will serve me well in my next career.

The first part of my job was a craft: cooking. I never want to cook professionally again. I would rather play the harmonica in the subway. Still, from cooking I learned speed, precision, and the ability to think halfway straight while surrounded by steam, noise and impatience.

The second part of my job was inventory and administrative work, basically a piece of cake: I never let any of it pile up. It was what I did for my break. I loved this undemanding, precise and clean work.

Make note to myself: in my next life, I would rather be desk-based.

The third part of my work was customer service for which I had a great facility. I developed a brand of customer service that appeared effortless and friendly. This aspect of my job was like chaste prostitution: I was providing, for a fee, a service that should be available for free. I ended up being on quasi familiar terms with many of my customers, while keeping a controlled persona. It was (usually) not a matter of faking it, but of always being aware that these people were customers. What they would get from me would be even better than friendliness: it would be one-sided essence of friendliness. I would listen to their news and concerns but not burden them with mine.

Of course this approach only worked because it was the front for quality service. The customers reveled in the warmth, and they took the speed and accuracy for granted. But take away the speed and accuracy, and all the warmth in the world would have been worth zip.

Unless I happened to be exceptionally preoccupied, this aspect of my job was easy - but it was draining. Still, it was my strongest suit. It was what put me on the map. The ironic consequence is that my manufactured presence as the public figure of a popular business became so convincing that it completely eclipsed dull old me. Away from work I ceased existing. I had no social life.

Make note to myself: perhaps something in customer service training? Consulting?

What I mean is that I could teach others about "the mask," but I'd rather not have to wear it myself every day anymore.

The fourth and last aspect of my job was the most demanding: keeping a crew of variously trained people working well together. I did it reasonably well I suppose, but at a cost. Without the strain of the work I did in the fields of labor relations and inter-departmental arbitration, I'd still have a full head of hair.

That is not to say that I derived no joy working in a close-knit team. Au contraire, I was able to learn so much about the fabric of American society. And working with other immigrants (from Poles to Egyptians) was a great privilege: watching them adapt to their new country deepened my own experience immensely. Hiring people with disabilities or down on their luck afforded me some treasurable friendships. And it may come in handy by the pearly gates: I always visualize an entity looking at my records "Hmmmm, you sold gin...  you overbooked on Valentine's Day...  But you hired him, ...and her, yikes... OK , you're in."

Make note to myself: I see myself in a multi-cultural crowd.

This brings me to a revelation of sorts. Over twenty one years, I fought hard to keep the prices of our product low, while trying to remunerate the crew as generously as possible in the industry. I fought with all my strength against waste, but I was very happy when I saw a worker enjoy a piece of cake or a bowl of soup on the house. The workers were a group of people who cooperated to serve the customers. But just as importantly, the customers were a group of people who cooperated (unwittingly) to provide the workers with a living.

Make note to myself: I would be comfortable in the nonprofit sector.

E A R L Y   M A Y

In the end, the last days at my old business were not as painful as I expected. I had braced myself for chaos and encountered only mild turbulence.

Some workers were sad to see me go, but all were justifiably impatient to see this uneasy period of transition end. As I warned them and the new owners: "There is no need to worry, because the difficulties you will encounter will not be the ones you will be expecting."

After such pearls of wisdom, they were probably all eager to see me out.

Some customers were all choked up, but their emotions were not meant for me. They were meant for a long-running fictional character whom I had created. Or at least that is what I had to tell myself. Otherwise, the last three weeks would have been like a protracted funeral.

 It is not all that easy to dispatch a fictional character, especially one that has been warmly adopted by the community.

At the risk of seeming presumptuous, I can't help thinking of the way Charles Dickens killed off Little Nell near the end of his exhausting but wonderful novel "The Old Curiosity Shop." Imagine the anger of the readers who had been following Nell and her grandfather through all the obstacles Dickens had cruelly set out for them!

So far, no one has accused me yet of murdering Oliver, but there is an element of it when I am asked, pointedly: "who's going to make my soup now?"

Back to Little Nell, I like the way Oscar Wilde wrote "One must have a heart of stone to read the death of Little Nell without laughing."
Fittingly, when the story was covered by the local newspaper, the segment about the retiring partners ended abruptly in mid-sentence. It is already someone else's story. Phew.

It has been frustrating, during all these years, to be so associated with the product I provided. It may be a delusion, but I think of myself as more than a quiche and compliment whipper upper. Still, the long furbished image is likely to linger: even people who should know better still ask me "So, what are you going to do next, open a bakery?" It's almost as bad as "Are you going back to France?"

I guess I may need to reinvent myself a few miles out of town.

Getting a large check is rather therapeutic. No duh. I now have in my account more money than I ever did, which is not saying all that much. But I have no idea, as it happens, where the next dime will come from - an altogether novel sensation too.

I have done a little "networking" already. I put quotation marks around the word because my networking had an unconventional spin to it. Instead of meeting the power brokers with the connections, I have concentrated on gathering advice from individuals who have had mid-life career changes. I wanted to know how they had prepared themselves for the challenge, how they processed the humiliating setbacks, and how they remained focused. The advice I got was illuminating in its variety: On one particular day my morning date told me "First, take six months off" and my afternoon appointment told me "Do not sit down for one minute or you'll never get up again."

I am aware that for me, the risks are discouragement and distraction - the eBay abyss. I am not concerned about failing to reach my potential: my floor buffer is in charge of that. I don't care whether I reach the stars, as long as I get off the couch. Therefore, I hired a career consultant to guide me with my job search. I have a good initial impression of his organization and I am looking forward to working with him.

The cost of this service is high if I fail and reasonable if I succeed. No matter what, I realize I need guidance. After 21 years of guessing (and second guessing) what I should do next, I can't wait to be told what to do.

E A R L Y   J U N E

It has been a month since I worked last - a beneficial break. I feel years younger than I did six months ago.

I am still "looking for my next opportunity."

I can already tell that it was a good move to hire a career consultant: if I were divorced after a long-spanning arranged marriage, I would probably need help dating too. My consultant is confident in my eventual success, and I follow his instructions as closely as I can.

Without going into tedious detail, I am proceeding along three distinct methods: I am doing some direct searching on the internet, I am offering my experience and skills to recruiters, and I am networking with the influential people I have gotten to know over the years.

My nonprofit sector experience is like a wild card. If I do find a position in the nonprofit sector, my experience in the business world will still be valuable - up to a point.

Conversely, my nonprofit knowledge is not irrelevant to the world of business. It is a visible feather in my cap, I suppose. Not every business person is identified as a resource by his or her community.

Let's go back to the dating analogy, and I'll explain my three methods to find rewarding employment.

Direct searching on the internet corresponds to scanning through lonely hearts personals. I have set up "search agents" on the main internet job sites and I get dozens of jobs listings in my email every day. With many of those listings, it is impossible to tell whether the job and I are compatible. Still, it is good practice to apply for positions, and it is also fun to dream about some intriguing prospects.

Dealing with recruiters is like subscribing to a dating service. The recruiters work on behalf of the companies that are hiring. In my case, the recruiter-based approach is probably a long shot: recruiters are paid to find individuals who have proved themselves in specific sectors, whereas I am in the process of repackaging myself.

Networking is like asking your friend if his girlfriend has a sister who would like to go to the movies next Saturday night. If I had to bet, I would put my money on networking. Again and again, I timidly make a phone call and the person on the other end is incredibly helpful, offering to meet me and to give me more names of people whom I should contact next. Like the flu bug, I can turn one handshake in dozens of contacts. Sooner or later, I may be just what the next contact is looking for.

Writing this chronicle is therapeutic. But I would be lying if I wrote that this search is not in the least frightening. But hey, owning a restaurant was frightening too. And the prospect of growing old chained to a stove was most frightening of all.

J U L Y

I experienced a deflated spell a little while ago. That happened when school was over and my children started spending their whole days at home. My job-search routine was disturbed. I had to negotiate for internet access and silent time. For a few days, the home front was a bit fraught. But then my children got into their Summer schedule, staying up late and getting up late too, and I recovered my quiet morning time.

The presence of children in the picture is dramatic for a job seeker: the children make the search more urgent and less effective all at once. You need to find suitable employment to cover the cost of children's health insurance and future education expenses, while their very presence makes the search more difficult. It is important to organize your time and your space, otherwise you will be, at best, distracted and at worst angry.

Searching for a job is not a pleasant activity, because of the uncertainties involved. It is also very intense at times: calling acquaintances to ask for advice or peddling your schmeer to recruiters is emotionally draining. After 90 minutes of such activities, you welcome the distraction, believe me.

I recommend spending time out of the house, and away from the family. If you are, like me, short on friends, you can volunteer. I serve as a trustee on the board of a local nonprofit and I have been more involved than usual since I stopped working. Volunteering is beneficial all around, good for the mind, good for the soul, and good for networking too.

I also recommend having a good time once in a while, if only to avoid feeling unworthy. On a blistering hot Saturday, instead of climbing the walls, I rewarded myself with a visit to two Philadelphia area destinations. I got turret syndrome while touring the USS New Jersey, a huge battleship moored in Camden. And I contemplated the very essence of punishment at the fascinating Eastern State Penitentiary.


The New Jersey was the largest American battleship and it served in many conflicts from W.W.II to the American intervention during the civil war in Lebanon.
Visit the Battleship New Jersey on line
The Eastern State Penitentiary was the first institution with the goal of reforming inmates (through penitence) as opposed to simply locking them up.
Visit the Penitentiary on line
Lately, my job search has yielded some concrete ideas. I have hope in several possibilities. All the same, I keep digging. My career counselor warns me with tales of clients who thought they had a job all sewn up only to be bitterly disappointed. I always ask "But did he eventually find a job?" And he always answers "Of course he did."  So I suppose I will keep going on blind dates all the way until the wedding rehearsal.

I had an interesting moment with a neighbor who contacted me because he too is contemplating a career change. I had never exchanged more than two words with this person before, and he always appeared so poised and composed - the sort of person I usually envy. It was illuminating, then, to hear him suddenly share his doubts and his dissatisfactions, and to talk admiringly about my experience. I guess the parsley is always greener.

Our society values work so much (and rightly so) that a man who doesn't work sees his self worth plummet. A six month gap on a resume becomes a stigma that will take years to erase. Already I can't wait to go back to work (and it's not all about money either). Yet I am aware that these weeks of reflection are anything but a waste. I suppose that in a different civilization, I would have enjoyed spending some time in a monastery between adventures.

A U G U S T

I have been thinking a lot about Bangladesh for years. It is my plan to visit that country some day, and I have studied its history and culture at length. I was fortunate to spend some time with students from Bangladesh who were spending six weeks studying at Dickinson College with other youths from India and Pakistan. After this sample of Bengali grace, humor, imagination and beauty, I am more eager than ever to discover Bangladesh.

The students assured me that in a few years, when they are leaders in their fields, they would find me a volunteering opportunity to help in their country for one year - possibly in microfinancing development. What a dream it would be.

More recently, I have had an unsettling experience. I was offered a job!

I had dropped my resume at a large company headquartered nearby. Through a networking call, I had also chatted with one of the Vice Presidents who had described exciting new opportunities. Some food knowledge was required, but no heavy-duty cooking.

By the time the company called me, the job had evolved. I went to two interviews and I was offered a job which involved a lot of cooking and long, inflexible hours. Disturbingly, some of the specifics of the project went against my food philosophies. Also, I still didn't know how much the job paid.

When I came back home, I started feeling anxious, and I'm not saying impatient. I'm talking about an elephant sitting on my chest. By the time the Human Resources person called me with the salary specifics, which were decent but not dazzling, I was a bit of a wreck.

I have smelled the fresh air away from kitchens, worn shoes without cake batter on top, and I have entered, if only to drop my resume, the world of clean offices where people work with ideas. I simply couldn't go back.

Fortunately, my wife and my parents were extremely supportive and understanding, and they all approved my eventual decision not to accept that position.

But it wasn't easy. For one weekend, I was as stressed as I have ever been, with goofy middle-of-the-night thoughts, such as "I could take it, and if it doesn't work I can kill myself." Not the strongest basis to build a future on, wouldn't you say?

Now, I am back to square one. At least I know now that things can evolve very fast from square one to the finish line. Next time, just hold the garlic.

L A T E   S E P T E M B E R

Being offered and declining that job was a disorienting experience. Ironically or predictably, as soon as I declined the only job offer I had received so far, all my other live prospects expired in quick succession, like a wretched litter of rats.

I always knew that this process would be a race against depression, and for a while, at the end of August, depression was ahead.

I distracted myself with matters other than my career search, while waiting for my spirits to improve so that I might resume the routine of job applications and networking.

Then, by chance, I looked at the classified in the local newspaper, something I rarely did as there mainly seemed to be listings for truck drivers and nurses.

On that day, I saw an opening for a marketing director opportunity at a nearby retirement community. This is a field which interests me a great deal, so I perked up a bit. I sent my resume and cover letter to the Human Resources department, and I made a follow up call a few days later. Already, with this first call, I was treated as a person, not as a pest, and I was told that yes, my packet was received and I probably would hear from them again in a little while.

Indeed, I was soon invited to a job interview with the executive director of the community. I had a week to prepare for the interview. I designed a list of relevant references, and I did as much research as I could on the subject of marketing to the mature consumer. Of course, the subject isn't new to me, as the core of my clientele was always the over 45 crowd.

The interview took place at the local headquarters of the church-affiliated nonprofit corporation which owns the community. While waiting in the office lobby, I had a good feeling. I have been in many lobbies since May, and this one, although not fancy, resonated with laughter and purpose. The workers walked quickly, as if engaged in tasks that mattered and which they enjoyed.

The interview went well, and the more I found out about the organization and the position, the more I believed it would be a good fit for me. I was very impressed by the executive director of the retirement community - the person who would be the boss of the marketing director. I could definitely do my very best for such an individual.

The following day, I was asked to come for a second interview combined with a visit of the community. I met representatives of the residents' council, and once again I had a good feeling about the environment and the possibilities.

Now I'm waiting to see if I got the job. It would be a great opportunity for me. Right away, I could use some of the skills I have already acquired in the fields of organization and consumer relationships. In addition, I would quickly learn the specifics of an industry which is about to expand explosively. The retirement community of the twenty-first century is not a place where you get parked at and forgotten. It is a carefully engineered community where your life can be, at last, unencumbered so that you can dedicate your wise brain to whatever matters most to you without worrying about the onset of decline.

The community where I applied for the job accepts residents starting at the age of 55. By then I'll be ready myself!

Update: On September 30, a Friday, at 5:10, I received a call from the executive director of the community and she offered me the job of Marketing Director: would I drop by next Monday for my TB test?

Oh, would I !

E A R L Y  O C T O B E R

Now that I am into the next phase, I am happy to close the job-search chapter. My favorite emotion has always been relief, and finding legitimate employment in a field of interest generates considerable relief. Closing down one's Monster and CareerBuilder accounts is an experience to be savored.

Already, I can't describe exactly how it felt to write "none" when asked about my occupation while filling out a form, although just a few days ago it was an intense feeling.

Before I stop writing about this subject altogether, let me gather my advice for mid-career job seekers:
 

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