I Lost My Job A Month Ago Today...

...and it has been one of the most peaceful and most productive months I've had in years.

It's an interesting feeling, being laid off from a job from which you have been praying for deliverance for years. I was working as a customer service representative at a Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Florida call center. The insurance plan that I serviced was that of the Federal Employee Program. I answered calls for seven and a half hours a day. There were some interesting moments, and even some entertaining ones; but without going into too much detail, the job was a huge cross for me. I honestly don't know how much longer I could have lasted.

A month ago today, at approximately 11:15 on a Friday morning, I was on a call when my service manager left a small post-it note on my desk asking me to see her after the call. I had a feeling I knew what was coming, since the company was in the habit of doing lay offs on Fridays. The post-it note was pink: that should have been the first clue, though I didn't think about it at the time. When the call ended, I went to see my manager, and she asked me to walk with her downstairs. I knew then that I would not be returning to the floor; and despite the current state of the economy, I felt like a huge burden was about to be lifted from my shoulders.

My manager made small talk as we approached the elevator (as I worked on the 13th floor and suffer from a recurring case of sciatica, walking down the stairs was out of the question). As we approached the elevator, one of the gentlemen whose job is to make sure we are well-stocked with office supplies was waiting to board an elevator heading down. He must have known what was happening, because when he saw who was about to join him, he stepped aside and let us in. He did not follow; and as the elevator doors closed, he studiously avoided making eye contact with me. So did my manager, even as she continued her small talk. It was obvious to me that she did not enjoy this part of her job: it is not her job to decide who stays and who goes, though in typical bureaucratic fashion those who make such decisions leave it to others to break the bad news in person. I thought about telling her to relax, and that I knew what was coming. Yet I chose not to, not wanting to stick my foot in my mouth on the remote chance that I was not, in fact, about to be fired.

It's difficult to explain what I was feeling at the time. There was a sense of anticipation, to be sure, though it was mingled with a touch of dread as to how I was going to break the news to those closest to me. Mostly, though, I felt like a new adventure was about to begin, like a new chapter with infinite possibilities lay ahead of me.

Please understand, it's not that I hate working. When I took the job at Blue Cross and Blue Shield, it was out of dire financial necessity. Months of looking for a job that would let me put my MA Theology degree to use had proven fruitless, and I had less than $25 to my name and a mountain of debt when I accepted the job. In the two and half years since, I have continued to search for work relating to my chosen field of study. I have dozens of rejection letters to show for my efforts.

The job itself had aspects to it that made it difficult for a Catholic to cope. The insurance plan I serviced did not cover abortions, except in the proverbial cases of "rape, incest, and the health of the mother." As those who trained me in the job emphasized that coverage for medical services was largely based on medical necessity and contraceptives were covered without any restrictions (as routine preventive care, no less - apparently, celibacy and unplanned pregnancy are two maladies that need to be guarded against), I knew how little it took for a doctor to prove that abortion was justifiable based on the "health of the mother." For two and half years, I dreaded receiving a call dealing with abortion or requesting a referral to an abortion provider. I am eternally grateful that this phone call never came.

Leaving Steubenville was as big a culture shock for me as arriving there had been. I knew going back into the secular world was going to be a struggle after having essentially lived in a Catholic bubble for three years. And this job was as secular as it gets. There are far more anti-Catholics environments than the one I was in for two and half years; but this job environment drained me not because of its hostility to my faith, but rather because of its apathy towards it. Casual conversations about behaviors frowned upon by the Church were common, and to do our jobs "effectively," we were expected to "process phone calls" rather than help customers. I received a number of heart-rending calls in my time there, and I was expected to adopt a businesslike attitude towards such people in order to meet my weekly production quotas. I simply didn't have it in me.

I also didn't have the luxury of going to and from this job in a short commute. I had to ride a public bus because there weren't enough cars (or the money to buy enough cars) in the household to allow me a chance to get to work at my own pace. I lost three hours a day on the buses getting to and from work, and I doubt I need to explain what those three hours would have meant to anyone who works for a living. There was at least one benefit - and a wonderful benefit it was! - to the bus-riding arrangement, and that was the fact that I had ample opportunity to pray a full set of mysteries of the Rosary on the way to and from work each day. I can't begin to count the number of times I wept on that bus as I prayed, or the number of times the Blessed Mother drew me - tears and all - into her loving embrace. If not for those prayers and my awareness of those embraces, there is no doubt in my mind that I would not have endured through those two and half years.

So as I rode down the elevator with my service manager - a truly sweet and compassionate lady that I pray will find a job better suited to her personality - the realization that the brutal daily routine I had followed for two and a half years was about to come to an end filled me with a sense of peace that not even the imminent loss of a steady cash flow could overshadow. As it turned out, they were more generous than I thought they would be, offering me a full month's severance and the ability to collect unemployment at the end of that period. As I had several months' worth of salary in my savings account - ironically set aside to buy a car - and had yet to file my taxes, I realized I had a decent nest egg to see me through the foreseeable future. It was with a heartfelt "Thank you" to God that I walked out of that building for the last time. The subsequent bus ride home was the most relaxing and peaceful trip I'd ever experienced courtesy of a public transit authority.

As I sit here a month later - exactly 4 weeks since the lay off occurred in February - I can fully understand now the sentiment of a friend and former co-worker who left the company 3 months before I did: a month away from that place does a world of good to the human spirit. And there are no words to describe what a wonderful feeling it is to be able to do things with the time and attention that they deserve. Those of you who share my meticulous nature will know what I mean.

As I continue to search for work - especially work relating to my degree - in what is a very unfavorable economic climate, I find myself now in the same exact position I was in three years ago: with absolutely no idea of what the future holds or of the means by which God will sustain me through the trials that lay ahead. It reminds me of the closing lyrics to one my favorite Christian songs, the late and great Rich Mullins' Hard to Get:

...And I can't see how You're leading me
Unless You've led me here
Where I'm lost enough to let myself be led
And so You've been here all along I guess
It's just Your ways and You are
Just plain hard to get.

Amen. God bless!


In Jesus and Mary,
Gerald