Today is the 2-week anniversary of becoming disemployed. I’m not going to lie: Being disemployed is great! Without the grinding 9-5 routine to structure my every waking (and sleeping) moment, I feel calm and healthy. Monday is no longer a day to rue and dread, it’s just… Monday. I am no longer compelled to squeeze all of my extended errands into Saturday and Sunday. I don’t stare at the clock and wait for 5pm; I glance at the clock and think “Wow, 5pm already! Where did the day go?”
But I can never completely relax. The uncertainty of not knowing where, when, and what my next job will be nags at me. I’ve basically spent the past two weeks at home, sending out resumes, searching job boards, honing my pitch, checking my email, clutching my phone and waiting for my future employer to call.
Well, the end of disemployment is nigh. Today I accepted a new job, which is actually my old job back at the company I left last August, on a reduced-hour schedule. That’s right, I’m working the dream: The 32-hour French work week!
Now I have a week to truly enjoy my disemployment: Daytime cinema, leisurely shopping trips, lunchtime wine, and recreational reading. Funny, I had purchased a clutch of bargain-bin hardcovers just before I was laid off, including Barbara Ehrenreich’s Bait and Switch: The (Futile) Pursuit of the American Dream, in which the author goes undercover to expose layoffs, downsizing, and the rigors of attaining a white-collar job. For the past two weeks, I couldn’t even look at Bait and Switch– I even kind of blamed it for my disemployment — but now I can’t wait to dig in and bask in schadenfreude.