Diary of a Laid-Off Dad: Episode 15
Finally . . . Light.
A glimmer of hope.
No. No job offer (yet).
No interview.
No calendar invite.
Just a response.
I’ll take it.
And just like that, my mood changes. Having opened my inbox this morning, I stared at the new message waiting from me. The title of the email held the name of an employer I had recently applied to, a small but not insignificant point of validation in my job search.
After a brutal time scouring the job market in late 2023 and early 2024, this trickle resulting from my efforts is a reward unto itself. I almost want to close my laptop and walk away to celebrate. I don’t, though the sentiment to do so remains after responding to that lone email.
Then, another miracle: another recruiter emails me. Sure, it came after reading five rejection emails. And you know what? It still counts.
I know I preach to the choir of the unemployed when I say that rejection after rejection can rob the most optimistic soul of their motivation. So when just one win — or a few — start to coming in, it can appear that the flood gates have opened, the drought has ended, and all will be well.
Or will it?
Pessimism, my lifelong friend, comes back into my life. What if this is it? Just a call with a recruiter? What if I’m ghosted afterward? Then what?
I try to keep my cool. The first few months following my layoff taught me a nibble on my line guarantees no catch. And I have enough Dear John letters to prove it. I remind myself this is just the beginning. I still need to interview with the recruiter. Then the hiring manager. Then a panel interview. And after that? Who knows — maybe a written assessment, another round of interviews, or more than likely: silence.
Yep, I’ve played the game. I know the likelihood of outcomes.
And yet . . .
There comes a certain sense of anticipation that comes with racking up so many losses.
The mathematicians out there will refer to it as the law of probability. The cynics may think such thoughts reek of delusion. The life coaches may infer positive psychology.
I might have some of that. I might have a touch of each sentiment. To find out, I went for a walk after clearing out my inbox. I went around a few blocks before taking a detour to the local library, which sits across from a business park in my neighborhood. Although not much happens in my part of the world, it has become a noisy day. A construction crew is hard at work, erecting a parking structure to accommodate the new businesses slated to move in nearby. The hustle does dampen the sense of calm I had been seeking. Then again — in a tribute to all the forced metaphors out there — the activity reminds me of sudden noise of my day, of the interruption my quiet inbox just received. I won’t go so far as to end this entry with something like, “It’s time to get back to work.” No, it had always been time to return to work. It’s just that the work wasn’t there. It not even here now.
But someday, it will be. And someday is inching closer. I can feel it. The noise. The optimism. The energy. It reminds me what I’m going after. That I want to return to work. To quit the monotony of being unemployed. To have a purpose in the working world again.
So I wait some more. For a calendar invite to a recruiter interview. For another job posting to apply to, so as to have backup plan should this interview or that one not go well. For a friend to review the sixth draft of my resume.
I wait. Because I’m ready.
