How Many Doors Did Your JD Open?

For anyone who's bitter about high student loan debt and/or the dearth of (paying) legal jobs out there, check out this piece from Nando of Third Tier Reality, which sheds some unflattering light on the higher education scam.  It includes some sobering statistics regarding the glut of student loan debt in the U.S., the lack of available jobs that require advanced degrees, as well as the frighteningly inflated tuition prices some law schools are charging their "customers" these days.  

Also, if you feel like getting involved in protesting or sharing your views on the higher education scam, check out the upcoming protest scheduled to take place October 8th in San Diego, California. 

From Humility to Humiliation

So where were we? I had just been informed that my temporary admin assignment was going to end after only three short months. My job prospects were pretty slim considering I had just left the legal field and it had taken me months (almost a year?) to find a non-legal job. I felt alienated from everyone – my husband, family (I’ll get to that in another post), friends, former colleagues. Is there any worse feeling than being surrounded by loved ones and feeling totally alone? I even stopped answering my phone because I knew my friends would ask the basic catch-up questions about career, family, and upcoming vacations.

In the meantime, I was still going to work every day, with no real defined expiration date, but I knew I had to act fast. At that point, I simply needed to find a job –any job- that would provide a steady stream of income while I thought about my next move. After all, I still had student loans to pay. So I did something desperate. I applied for a job at a call center. A specific call center. It had always been in the back of my mind as an “in case of emergency” plan. Like the fire escape ladder tucked behind the shoe rack in my closet, I had hoped I would never have to use it.

Did I mention that when I practiced law, I primarily worked as a criminal defense attorney? This little tidbit weighed heavily on me when I decided to apply at “SIP, Inc.,” aka “Suicide is Painless, Incorporated.” You see, the reason I knew the place would probably hire me is because I used to send my clients to them when they needed to find jobs prior to sentencing. No one in their HR department had ever heard the term “background check,” much less performed one. While completing the online application, all I could think about was how I would respond if I ran into a former client. This had happened a couple of times in the past, but I always knew the attorney-client privilege obligated me to ignore them unless they acknowledged me first. I was guessing, however, that if a former client saw me working at the call center, they would probably have a couple questions for me. I decided that if I ever encountered this situation, I would simply lean in, lower my voice, and tell him I had switched to the journalism field and was doing undercover work for an exposé on the various indignities suffered by those who work for minimum wage. I sort of borrowed the concept from Barbara Ehrenreich’s Nickel and Dimed, which I had been required to read in a college sociology course, back when I believed higher education would guarantee me a safe, journalistic detachment from the working poor.

The actual application process did not involve uploading a resume or references. All I had to do was list my former employers and contact numbers for them. Since I knew none of my former work places would be contacted, I did not hide the fact that I worked at a law firm. I just did not fill out the section that asked for position titles. Again, I knew no one would read the application; they basically interviewed and hired everyone because of so much turnover. I also disclosed my JD on the education section, knowing the person who read it probably did not know or care what a JD was. A few days after submitting my application, I was contacted by an HR representative who asked me to come in for an interview. This process consisted of taking basic reading and spelling tests, and being introduced to the call center equipment (a headset). If I could spell “sandwich” (the judges probably also would have accepted “sandwhich”) and wear the headset without asphyxiating myself, I was in. I almost cried when they offered me a position, mainly because of the indignity of it all, but somewhat because I knew I would be able to make my student loan payment and possibly even help with other monthly bills.

I also felt a certain sense of relief at having hit bottom. How could things get any worse?

As a side note, I feel like I should be describing the changes occurring in my marriage at this time, but since so much happened at once, that will most likely be my next post. I have come to realize that the only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time, so I am going to cover only one major change per post until I catch up to present day…

Things Fall Apart

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." 
- Marilyn Monroe

I always wonder if Marilyn was really that insightful or if her publicist wrote that quote for her.  I wish I could say getting laid off from my admin gig after only a few short months brought out my inner Marilyn, but that would be a lie.  In reality, it terrified and angered me.

I began temping at the end of April, beginning of May last year.  At first, I felt exhilerated.  Finally, I could breathe again and I had time to take care of myself.  I was exercising again.  I had lost five pounds and my skin was looking good.  I ate better, I slept better, I read books.  I was even picking up some valuable skills that I was certain would transfer well into my next career move, whatever that might be.  And then, it happened.

In mid July, my boss strolled over to my desk one morning and informed me that corporate was moving our office to a city about 350 miles away.  Only he, the CFO, and the senior admin ("Alex") would be kept on permanently.  Alex would be working from a remote office, while the two head honchos would physically relocate.  He mentioned the possibilty of me working remotely for a while after the move to foster a smooth transition.  I heard none of it, though.  All I could see was a huge "unemployed" sign flashing right before my eyes.

It just so happened that my husband called to ask me out to lunch that day.  He worked right down the street, so he picked me up at noon and asked me how my day was going.  I immediately began crying.  I think he could sense what had happened and when I told him about the move, he simply said, "I guess that's the life of a temp." 

Again, I wish I could have summoned my inner Marilyn in that moment.  Instead, my inner Britney materialized, and I found myself wanting to shave my head and beat my husband senseless with the nearest umbrella.  I did the only sensible thing I could think of and turned my hostility toward him.  How could he have let me quit my permanent job for a temporary one?  How could he be so casual about my career being in the toilet?  Why did I even bother telling him about anything when he never offered any support, only cold, hard facts?  After about half an hour of screaming in the car, we decided to go to lunch after all because the new burger restaurant we planned on going to supposedly had some pretty tasty grub.  I figured sweet potato fries could only improve my mood at that point.  And since I would be unemployed in a few short weeks anyway, who would care if I took a two hour lunch?

When I got back to work that afternoon, the office was empty except for Alex.  She had heard I got the news and informed me of how angry she was that they did not tell me during my interview that the company had been planning the move for a while. 

My anger turned into rage. During the interview, my boss had implied that the temporary position could become permanent in a few months.  I asked Alex why they didn't just hire someone else who was already unemployed and who would have been thankful for a few months of work.  Apparently, all of the other candidates either smelled like cigarette smoke or gave off the impression that they would be calling in sick just about every day.  I was the lucky chosen one. 

For the rest of the day, I sulked.  When I got home, I pouted.  And then I emailed my employment agent about the end of my assignment, who failed to email me back for the next two weeks.  During those two weeks, I convinced myself that she was in on the conspiracy to make me give up my legal career for a three-month pit stop on the way to Unemployed-ville. 

Little did I know that things were going to get just a little worse before they got better...