How to be Unemployed

Going from having a steady paycheck to not having a steady paycheck is, generally, a pretty big blow to one’s self worth. Living comfortably in New York City is no easy feat as it is--this coming from the girl who left a small bedroom with two feet of space around her bed for a smaller bedroom with one foot of space and a window facing a brick wall--and living at all when you don’t have an income is just plain shitty.

I have been in this position exactly twice in my life: first, when I moved to the city and thought I could live off of the $4,000 I saved for as long as it would take me to find my dream job. Moving costs and apartment furnishing and realizing that the price of toothpaste is three times higher here than literally anywhere else led to that $4k lasting me about a month and half.

The second time was this past summer, basically right up until a couple weeks ago.

While I volunteered for being unemployed four years ago when I quit my job and moved to NYC to “live my dream” like some character out of a fucking broadway musical, I hadn’t planned for it this time around. Getting laid off wasn’t a shocker, necessarily, but I wasn’t, shall we say, “psyched.”

I’m happy to report that I’m a hot commodity and recently accepted an offer with a company that I could not be more excited about, but getting to this point was an interesting journey. I definitely don’t wish for anyone to lose their job, but should you find yourself in that position, I have 5 tips on how to be unemployed.

1. Add an F

You’ll be adding a lot of “F”’s to your lexicon (e.g. “Fuck paying rent,” “Fuck that girl and her trip to Portofino,” “Fuck health insurance”). The most important one, however, is Funemployment.

The stressful factors associated with not having a job notwithstanding, I’ve gotta give my old boss a high five for laying me off during the summer. Everything awesome happens in the summertime: Beach trips, weddings, bachelorette parties, tanning in Tompkins Square Park with homeless people, rooftop bar happy hours--it’s ideal. The gym is empty at noon because everyone else is at work and I can book cheaper flights for off-peak days because I have nowhere to be on Monday morning. Make Funemployment your bitch.

2. Appease the people

When people find out you don’t have a job, they expect two things:

1. You should be working feverishly to find one at all times of day or else you’re just a lazy asshole without professional drive
2. You should be getting tan constantly

So I have. I’ve gotten so fucking tan. You know when it’s hard to get tan? When you’re inside an office all day. It’s much easier when you’re a waste of space with no schedule who can “take a break” and go lay outside for two hours.

People really want you to get a new job, but they want you to take advantage of being worthless even more. Give the people what they want. Get tan.

3. Wear haus couture

I will not advise you to “invest” in a house dress/outfit, because you really shouldn’t be spending money right now. However, when you’re not out at coffee shops fixing your resume and applying to 69+ jobs a day between LinkedIn and AngelList, you should be home, not wearing real clothes.

My house outfits rotated between 16-year-old Soffe shorts and a ratty t-shirt, a black bathing suit cover up sans bathing suit underneath, and a plaid sleeveless dress for the days I was feeling fancy. Bras were entirely out of the question, as was makeup (I did shower every day, because I’m not a heathen). Ultimately, the name of the game should be comfort, wearing something non-binding that feels nothing like dress pants...or pants, in general.

4. Eat it all

Lunch in an office is just another way to measure your excellence against your peers’. I’ve had several co-workers over the years who enjoyed commenting on my homemade lunches, I guess thinking that my grilled chicken and roasted sweet potatoes somehow paled in comparison to their Baconator. Who knew that being healthy and actively avoiding a fupa was a sign of inferiority?

Meal prep completely goes out the window when you’re eating at home alone. You can also eat whatever the fuck you want without criticism.

Scrambled eggs and meatballs? Sounds delicious.  

An entire brick of cheddar with an entire sleeve of Ritz crackers? Legendary.

Raw cookie dough? Why not?

There are several negative aspects of being unemployed. Eating as healthy (or unhealthy) as your heart desires without Max in Accounting remarking, “That’s an interesting choice,” is not one of them.

5. Ruin yourself

I thrive off of routine. I am Skylar of the House Korby, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Anxious, Khaleesi of the Great Skin Regimen, Protector of the Highlights, Lady Stringent of the Seven Mini Meals a Day, Breaker of Fasts and Mother of Absolutely No One Thank God.

Since I was no longer waking up at 6:45-7, getting ready to be out the door by 8:00, answering emails and writing blog posts until lunch at 12:30, taking a 30-minute after-lunch walk, eating a snack at 3:30, eating another snack at 4:30, drinking pre-workout green tea at 5:30, leaving at 6:30, working out until 8:00, coming home to watch America’s Next Top Model until 10:30, popping a Zzzquil, and falling asleep by 11:30, I had to figure out how to live my life without a built-in regimen.

It takes 21 days to form a habit. It takes two straight days of sleeping in past 7 am to realize that a 9-5 schedule is horseshit.

Let your schedule go to to hell. Eat breakfast at 9 or 11 or not at all. Go to the gym at 2. Sit around feeling sorry for yourself for 45 minutes. Watch 23 videos in a row of French bulldog puppies. Feel guilty about not enjoying the nice weather, but don’t actually act on the guilt. Do literally whatever the fuck you want, because for the last five years you’ve begun every Monday morning saying, “I really just needed a couple of extra days after the weekend” and now you have them in abundance.

The routine will inevitably return, but the opportunity to attend a sample sale in the middle of the afternoon without conflict (but just to browse--again, you really shouldn’t be spending money right now) shouldn’t be passed up.

One of Those Days

Maybe everyone does have days like that.

Maybe everyone does have to make a conscious effort and force themselves out of bed on their day off, the guilt of lying around only slightly outweighing the relief of not having to face anyone or anything.

Maybe everyone does start crying for literally no reason while stretching out their hamstrings at the gym.

Maybe everyone does have to give themselves pep talks before social gatherings, repeating the reassuring mantra that it will be fun, that they like those people, that it won’t be overwhelming, and promising that they’ll keep up the appearance of a good mood for at least two hours.

Maybe everyone does fake it 90% of the time because it would surprise and confuse anyone who’s known them to think that they weren’t always genuinely happy, peppy, goofy.

Maybe everyone does have days like that. But I’m willing to bet that their days are just days.

Their days aren’t a life.

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I’m more or less not allowed to be depressed.

It doesn’t make sense, you know?

How can you be depressed when it’s summer? It’s warm! There’s no crying in baseball, so there’s definitely no hiding irrational tears behind big sunglasses. I’m probably just tired.

How can you be depressed when you get upset at someone gently but incessantly prodding at your anxieties until you snap and yell at them? That’s not depression, that’s a bad attitude. You really need to fix that, young lady, we are not going to have it.

How can you be quick with a joke and claim your favorite thing in the world is making people laugh if you’re depressed? I’m probably just having one of those days.

It's always there, close to the surface, a melancholic time bomb ready to suck the enjoyment out of just about any situation. Even when the circumstances should inspire otherwise, I've been left to fake my way through.

I’ve been depressed at girl’s nights, when I’m sitting in a room of my favorite friends, laughing until I can’t breathe while eating more in one sitting than I have in three days.

I’ve been depressed on dates, when everything is beautiful and romantic and perfect.

Holidays, birthday parties, vacations abroad, lake trips, cuddled on the couch watching a movie. All things considered, I’m actually as close to happy as I could possibly be. But I’m still just...not. And I couldn’t tell ya why.

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If I took a glass and shattered it, telling me to un-shatter the glass will not magically put the pieces back together. The glass will not be good as new just because you threw in your two cents. You’re holding an un-shattered glass, telling me to un-break mine, and you think I’m faking it when I tell you it’s not as easy as gluing the shards together again.

Instead, just listen. Put your glass away, and listen.

Let me hold broken glass in my hands and talk about each sharp piece until its edge has softened or I just can’t hold sharp things anymore. Don’t suggest my pieces might actually be plastic, or that the glass will be whole again tomorrow, or that I should ignore the glass and drink from a mug insead.  

If you think you’ve lent an ear once and that was “helping” and I should be “fixed” now, please don’t lend an ear ever again. You’re not trying to help. You’re trying to make it go away. I’m sorry the thing I’ve been working to overcome for over a decade is difficult for you.

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Please don’t misunderstand: I do have good days.

I have days when I wake up expecting to feel the usual dread and I realize it’s not there, and I glide through my afternoon feeling hopeful that the spell has snapped for real this time.

I’m not overcompensating for anything.

I’m not forcing it.

I’m genuinely laughing.

I’m happy.

I’m also trying my hardest to repress the question of how long the good will last before the bad creeps back in. It used to be the opposite, but it’s funny what you can get used to after a few years.

And it’s not like I don’t get it. Depression is an awkward thing to talk about. Inexplicable sadness, emptiness, and despondency are confusing, and trying to get someone to explain why they’re depressed when they don’t quite know themselves is frustrating for everyone.

That’s why it’s not your responsibility to make it go away.

It’s not your responsibility to do anything.

Just don’t tell me I’m having one of those days. It’s so much more than 24 hours.