Copyright 2004 Ben S. Pollock
Thursday, October 21, 2004. We went to the new Blair Library on Tuesday, after lunch at Jammin’ Java with friends, She to the video section and I in my cap upstairs to grab a couple of novels by William Humphrey, a biography of whom I’ll be reviewing shortly.
I said hi at the main reference desk to a NWA Times reporter as I hit the stairs and almost recognizing the fellow she was talking with. He instantly followed me up the stairs. Then I realized I knew him from the university and only toward the end of our conversation gave up trying to recall his name and asked. It’s D—.
He got his bachelor’s in journalism a year ago and just got laid off from a local non-profit, as a fund-raiser. He wanted to ask my advice. He knew I had troubles finding a job, that that’s why I became a graduate student.
Six months in an advertising job came and went, and while he did better than anyone hoped raising money in this agency, it was below the national’s expectations and they gave him the boot after six months but also a modest severance package.
Since D— never brought up his major, which I now recall must have been ad-PR, I didn’t, either.
D— has two employment goals: to earn a lot of money and that he like the work, whatever it was to be. He didn’t have a clue. Lots of money, because I asked in trying to give him counsel, meant enough for a small starter home in Bella Vista (which is pretty and still not too expensive, compared to the rest of NWA, he said) so he and his wife could have babies.
D— suggested working for a Wal-Mart vendor firm; did I have any ideas or better yet, know anyone?
Me? Of course not. I told him I lucked into my newspaper design job, but it was night work so we’re all not particularly in ideal circumstances (let’s split that infinitive infinite ways!), meaning finding "something better" is better than saying finding something good.
We exchanged a little more, and I told D— to get himself to three or four temp agencies — Staffmark, Kelly etc. — because that is where Wal-Mart vendors hire locally. They bring in their own people then generally hire supporting positions through temps, and not rarely hire them away, permanently.
I told him that while I didn’t have much luck, it was because the Demzette had come right about then. (OK, that was a fib to keep our talk brief; actually the temp counselors insisted that I ask for too much money so none wanted me. Next time, I’ll insist that filing is fine as after benefits run out a very modest hourly will do).
But, I said, it was perfect for what he said his goals were. Count on a couple of hours at each of the agencies — to leave time for the application, interview and various computer, typing and spreadsheet tests — and apply at the Benton County offices because the vendors hit those, being in the neighborhood, and because he and wife want to settle up there. I also told him that afterward to phone all those agencies a few times a week and not to wait for them to call him. I mentioned the temps provided basic health insurance, too.
I suggested applying at the university for on-campus staff jobs. D— gave me something of a dirty look, and I said it occurred to me because the process was similar, an employment office with typing tests. Two days later I realize that maybe he felt he’d be embarrassed to be seen by younger friends who were still students.
He is still living on the severance, his wife has a full-time job, he said, so he hasn’t filed for unemployment. I told him how easy that was and maybe he should go ahead and do that because the state office itself can have some decent leads, that they do job counseling.
D— gave me a doubting look. I said even good employers call Employment Security with openings and not just loading-dock work, but white-collar positions. I asked him to tell me about what was said at his termination and feel certain he’ll qualify.
I write all this out because I felt sorry for D—. He said, and I recalled thinking, that he couldn’t understand why: He had his degree and good intentions and a willingness to work hard. All I could do is shrug. No, I said briefly, that the world is not set up that way and to look at me, that I had that for 20 years and am having to backtrack and start again, near his starting spot.
I tried to emphasize that this is not so bad, that even a vocational degree like ad-PR only works for the first few jobs, through a person’s 20s, and that one eventually finds a niche. I said the jobs you really like, or at least benefit public welfare (like his non-profit), fall short in money always and often in management. And if it’s money he wants most — pick one main goal — then the priority might be to find tolerably pleasant work. And that is OK, too. Then you have to find pleasure and community do-good work in the off-hours, that’s all (the Stephen Pollan lesson, rephrased). I also said the obvious, that when they have kids his job preferences will turn to needs quickly.
We split, shaking hands, I to the fiction shelves and he to mail off the dozen resumes that he held in a folder.
I really don’t think he liked my advice. But he smiled and acted like he did.
So I write this out. It is good advice for his and similar circumstances. I wasn’t just hypothesizing, out of my hat, from third-hand information. I’ve lived that life. My advice to myself is that it can, it will, happen again.
D— did ask me, though. Maybe he’ll think about it, at least. -30-
