Trying to find a job is not a job
Keeping the unemployed busy is an exercise in denial -- and social control.
By Barbara Ehrenreich
IN MOST PARTS OF the world, from Paris to Beijing, mass unemployment
brings the specter of mass social unrest. Not here, though, where 13
million people have accepted joblessness with nary a peep of protest.
Many reasons -- from Prozac to Pentecostalism -- have been cited to
explain American passivity in the face of economic violence. But the
truth may be far simpler: In America, being unemployed doesn't mean
you have nothing to do but run around burning police cars.
Unemployment has been reconfigured as a new form of work.
Nowhere is this clearer than in the white-collar world, where the
laid-off are constantly advised to see job searching as a full-time
job. As business self-help guru Harvey Mackay advises: "Once you're
fired, you already have a job. The job you have is tougher than the
last one. It's more demanding." How demanding? He says you need to
"plan on 12 to 16 hours a day."
Picture it: People across America rising at the usual time, suiting up
in full corporate regalia and setting themselves down at their laptops
to fiddle with resumes, peruse Monster.com and pester everyone on
their address lists for leads.
Some people have no doubt found jobs in this manner, but there have
been no scientific comparisons of the technique with, say, printing a
resume on a sandwich board and parading around Times Square.
If there is something familiar in the image of laid-off workers
soldiering on, it may be because of films like "Tokyo Sonata" and the
2002 French film, "Time Out," in which the heroes -- laid-off
executives -- conceal their status from their families and continue to
mime the daily commute to work. In the movies, this behavior seems
pathetic -- a case of terminal denial -- but it's exactly what the
American "transition industry" of career coaches and outplacement
firms recommends: If you don't have a job, fake one.
In real life, it's OK for a man to tell his wife he's lost his job; he
should just never reveal that he has time on his hands. A February
article in the New York Times featured a laid-off Illinois man who
justified his refusal to do more around the house by saying, "As one
of the people who runs one of the career centers I've been to told me:
'You're out of a job, but it's not your time to paint the house and
fix the car. Your job is about finding the next job.' "
At the kinky extreme, laid-off white-collar people are advised to
further simulate the office environment by finding someone to play the
part of a "boss" -- a spouse, a friend, a paid career coach -- to whom
you report every few days on your progress.
Is it any wonder there's no time left over for lobbying for universal
health insurance or reading Marxist tracts on the "reserve army of the
unemployed"? It's all a person can do to keep up with the relentless
pressures of an imaginary job.
The blue-collar unemployed are subjected to gerbil-like exercises of
their own. While white-collar layoff victims are encouraged to polish
the "brand called you," blue-collar people are told they have nothing
to offer unless they start all over with "retraining." Hence, in part,
the current surge in community college enrollments.
But in his 2006 book, "The Disposable American: Layoffs and Their
Consequences," Louis Uchitelle raised the obvious question:
"Retraining for what?" At the beginning of the decade, computer skills
were all the rage; then the low-level computer work vanished to India.
Air-conditioner repairing is popular right now, and big-rig truck
driving is a perennial favorite. There are no guarantees, of course,
of eventual jobs. In a recent report for the organization Food AND
Medicine on laid-off manufacturing workers in Maine, Steve Husson, who
himself had been laid off as a DHL driver, found paper mill workers
stuck with intermittent seasonal work and low-paid service-sector jobs
despite their stints of retraining.
Even two or three years ago, when the economy was apparently healthy,
average layoff victims "landed" in new jobs paying 17% less than the
old ones -- if they landed at all. Today, with the country losing more
than half a million jobs a month, both white-collar job searching and
blue-collar retraining are becoming surreal exercises in futility. No
matter how smart you are -- how flexible, personable and skilled --
you can't find a job that isn't there. At least until the unemployment
benefits run out and the credit cards are canceled, you might as well
devote yourself to Madden and "Minesweeper."
Of course, there are a few constructive, work-like alternatives. You
could join one of the emerging efforts to organize the unemployed,
like Food AND Medicine in Maine, the Unemployed and Anxiously Employed
Workers' Assn. of Allen County, Ind., or the nationwide group United
Professionals, which I helped start. Or you could pitch in with one of
the several organizations fighting for single-payer health insurance,
or at least a huge expansion of public health insurance for the
unemployed. You could get together with laid-off friends and
co-workers to discuss how you would design an economy that made use of
people's precious skills instead of periodically tossing them out like
so much trash.
But the first step, as in any 12-step program, is to overcome denial.
Job searching is not a job; retraining is not a panacea. You may be
poorer than you've ever been, but you are also freer -- to express
anger and urgency, to dream and create, to get together with others
and conspire to build a better world.
Barbara Ehrenreich is the author of "Bait and Switch: The (Futile)
Pursuit of the American Dream" and "Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting
By in America."