Illustration by Drew Shannon
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Recently, I marked a milestone I hoped to never see: 100 days of unemployment.
(Hold for sad applause.)
I was let go from my role in October but given the choice to stay until December. I worked with lots of people outside the organization and did not want to leave them high and dry. But on my last day, I was cut adrift.
When I shared this news, several friends reached out to say they were in the same boat (as well as roughly 7 per cent of Ontarians where I live, according to recent Statistics Canada numbers). Our new full-time job was to find a new full-time job.
Do they make a mug for this?
One friend took the optimistic route and called this time a “midlife retirement.” Surely joining in an upbeat frame of mind could only manifest positive outcomes.
“Midlife retirement” sounded like an exciting mini-break from the worries and woes of the workday world. Maybe one or two Ferris Bueller-style larks. Maybe some cozy cafe visits to break up the day. Maybe some snowbird activities. Our regular visits to the southern shores of the United States have been halted during the current administration, which sadly had interrupted our regularly scheduled cruise activities.
I might have been the oldest Heated Rivalry fan in the club but I was having a blast
This winter, I embraced the cool offerings of the season: slowing down, noise cancellation and hibernation. I was in no rush to get anywhere. I watched my neighbours brush snow off their cars and clear their driveways to make their commutes. This new way of life allowed me to take a leisurely approach to snow maintenance or just avoid it completely.
Small changes took effect in this new way of life: my sleep was better, I drank more water and I monitored my screen time. I scheduled my days to match the hours of my work-from-home husband, not wanting to disturb his flow. Being at home all day was the same retreat of an extra long weekend or a sick day as a child. I dressed comfortably, brewed my coffee and sat at my makeshift office space to work at defrosting my current status with something that stirred excitement like that of an eager new graduate.
This winter was my chance for reflection – what do I want out of the next phase of my life? I worked with a career coach (which I highly recommend) and was constantly encouraged by my husband and close friends to pursue new avenues. Serious thoughts and meditations went into my new definition.
I thought about my funeral – the unfortunate next step for retirees – and didn’t want my career to be the thing I was known for. That scared me in my last job and I needed to shed that worry before taking on a new role. I would still work hard but wanted to spend more time on interesting activities to be remembered for after I was gone. And also while I’m still here.
But to afford that, one needs a job to help make those definitions clear, no?
As snow fell and accumulated, so did the job applications. I delivered at least two a day. The days melded together, feeling like the long weekend I was trying to avoid. The dastardly winter conditions were only faced for dog walks and grocery runs.
With each day one closer to the big 4-0, my grand ideas shrunk and I adapted to prioritize the needs of my current circumstance. My upcoming 40th birthday plans are at a standstill.
At 75, I moved to Spain with my family. When they left, I stayed
I thought I would turn 40 before hitting 40 applications, but that milestone has also passed. My inbox received the odd automated response from hiring teams thanking me for my time.
Was I in a country song about first-world millennial problems? It felt like a movie sequence where a leading character stands still while the world moves rapidly around them.
In these moments, my friends and family have been a constant support system. Just offering an ear is helpful – one feels seen and heard despite having nothing to offer beyond the mundane activities of job hunting.
As spring approaches, warmer temperatures and fresher air open my eyes to the ridiculousness of my complaints. They sound selfish, petty and small by comparison to the major atrocities that are occurring around the world. But my current focus is finding how to be a contributing member of society, whatever that looks like.
What comes after the ice melts is anyone’s guess, but the new start to the season is a symbol of rebirth, rewiring and growth. Like the budding of new flowers and leaves, it is time to prepare for the world’s thaw and look at what’s waiting for me.
“In winter, I plot and plan. In spring, I move.” – Henry Rollins
Retirement is not for me – not just yet.
Ron Bauman lives in St. Catharines, Ont.