Two years ago, I wrote that committing to a 25 year mortgage is a statement of optimism. I resisted buying for so long because I wasn’t sure if my job would be permanent or my company would survive so I held off, just in case we needed to get out of a rental quickly to move down the road. But things continued on in my career and things seemed stable. I decided that despite the ups and downs of life, somehow things will work out for me and I would be able to, at the beginning of the month, make those mortgage payments. And so we signed upon the line that was dotted.
In March, I was terminated as part of a departmental restructuring so what do I know about optimism? It figures two years after I buy a house is when I get shitcanned. Fortunately, I should say at the outset, that there was a generous severance which will last until May and then I have to register for unemployment benefits. But right now we’re doing ok.
However, searching for a new job in 2016, after almost twenty years at the same company, sucks. A forty-five year old man with an English degree and two decades of completely unrelated airline experience is an odd sell in today’s market. But I’ve had some interesting interviews and I keep thinking I’m closer and closer to landing something, anything, but it remains frustratingly out of reach.
I’ve been making use of the time. I’ve returned to my writing and think that I may be on the road to being a real writer in that I really think the novel I’m writing is garbage. I’ve also started doing sessions with a personal trainer to learn to do strength, specifically weightlifting. Clearly, losing my job lead to something of a personal crisis so I figure if I cannot control my employment, I can control my health, which has always been something of an issue.
But it’s been eight months and I still haven’t found anything and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about that.