Today is my last day as a helper elf for a small local business. For about two months I’ve assisted in a backyard workshop where I weigh things, put things in jars, and put labels on those jars. Sometimes I had to fold inserts or put things in boxes, and once I ran pickup and delivery errands.
When my neighbor M posted that she needed help, do y’all know anyone, I messaged her and said, “Yeah, there’s… me. I could use something to put some cash in my pocket while I’m navigating this atrocious job market.” She asked me if the pay was okay and I said, “Candidly, no, but listen, I trust it’s fair for the job and I have bills to pay, so it’s fine.”
So off I went, every Tuesday and Friday morning, to put things in jars and put labels on jars and put jars in boxes and and and. It’s a small space and sometimes we were there together. M is a sympathetic person, and we have things to talk about, so it was nice to have company, but it was also fine to have the workshop to myself. I’d listen to an audio book or some podcasts and take a little snack break about halfway through my shift and then I’d go home and think about work not at all.
I’ve always been of the, “I’ll just bag groceries,” mind when it comes to desperate times thinking but I’ve never put my shoes where my statements are. This is the first time I’ve packed a lunch and worked a labor job (as opposed to the desk work I usually do) in a down market. But I’ve billed a mere $1200 of work since May. I pulled money from my retirement funds twice this year. That shit is not sustainable. I had to do something.
It’s been frustrating. Late last year I launched into some of the most complex and interesting work of my career. I was sure the agency would keep me, but their client didn’t renew. I thought this new, high-profile stuff would make me even more employable, but I was wrong about that, too. I have had the occasional lead, but they’ve all fizzled out. Wages are down, the jobs aren’t real, ageism is a thing, and – I don’t have to tell you – the vibes are off. Way off.
The data isn’t great. There’s this idea that the longer you’re unemployed, the longer you’ll remain unemployed. I guess that’s me now? I’ve got a stack of layoffs in my past but I’ve never worried that I’m benched for the rest of the season, that I won’t be renewed. This time it’s different. I’ll be 62 in January, and employers really want AI to do my job; they’d rather work with a robot that only asks, “What would you like me to do next?” They’d rather have a worker who doesn’t appear on the immediate bottom line, where the costs are deferred to the Division of Robots.
It has been nice to have work that I forgot about the minute I shut out the lights and went home. It’s been a bummer to find that my body is mad at me after standing in a small space for three hours. It limits what kind of job I can consider taking next, though I appreciate the opportunity to learn what I can do. I’ve liked doing work with my hands that is not typing, I’ve liked working with things that other people will use, I’ve liked seeing the completed work in front of me on the bench. I’ve loved working close to home – I rode my bike to work, often – and it was nice to get out of the house. I didn’t mind the in-person thing at all, but I was in a well-lit space and could look out the window at birds – no cube farm here, no windowless office, and no sitting in traffic.
I’m realistic. This might be what work looks like until I hit the social security number that makes sense. A part time labor job here, a writing project there, a lot of downtime when I make vegan food, partly because it’s cheaper and partly because it’s good for me. Maybe once a year I land something big and do my best to make it last.
I know so many people who are sitting here, trying to solve this Rubik’s cube of work but some joker has moved the stickers around. Just this morning I got a text message from someone claiming to be HR at Deloitte. HR at Deloitte is not texting randos at daybreak. It’s another layer of insulting to have our uncertainty mark us as prey.
Shit’s fucked up. We deserve better. I hope you are finding a way through.