Nobody tells you that the worst part of unemployment is not the money. The worst part is standing at a cookout two months in and realizing you have no idea how to answer “so what do you do” without sounding like a dumbass. Your entire identity was duct taped to a job title, and now that it is gone you are just a guy holding a paper plate trying to remember if you have hobbies. Spoiler. You do not. It is like going through the stages of grief except instead of a casket there is just a stack of bills and a LinkedIn inbox full of recruiters who flirt with you once and never call back. Very on brand for my dating life too, if we are being honest.
But something happens when you finally stop white knuckling the steering wheel of a car that is already parked. You quit mourning the title and you start remembering what you actually know how to do. Not the resume version of you that sounds like it was written by a corporate robot having a stroke, but the real one. The one with fifteen years of experience, two degrees earned the hard way, certifications coming out of places certifications should not come out of, and enough operational knowledge to make a company run whether they thank you for it or not, and the last one did NOT. That guy was always there. I just could not see him through the fog of my own meltdown.
So after five plus months of sitting in my own soup I did what any reasonable adult would do. I stopped crying into my cereal and started treating the job search like it was the job. And wouldn’t you know it, that actually worked. I have been pulling an interview a day, sometimes two or three, for nearly three weeks straight. Firsts, seconds, thirds, fourths, and a couple that went to a fifth round like we are in some kind of hiring tournament where the prize is health insurance. Welcome to modern job searches, folks. It is nothing like it was ten years ago. If you have talked to someone three times and you still cannot figure out if you want them, you do not have a hiring process, you have commitment issues. But the conversations have been great, the companies have been real, and I am not blowing smoke when I say I think multiple offers are about to land at the same time. Which means I am going to have to make a hard choice and live with it like a grown up. No what ifs. No looking back. Just pick a door and walk through it before they all close.
That clarity is also why I listed my house for sale again. Goes on the market May 8th. I looked at the situation and realized Nashville has given me exactly one local callback in months of trying. One. Meanwhile companies in other cities are practically waving me over like a bartender who actually wants to take your order. The math was not complicated. Add in the fact that I am just done with Tennessee. Done with the politics. Done with the racism I see on a regular Tuesday. I gave this place fifteen years and it gave me a lot, but I have been at this party long enough to know when the vibe has shifted and it is time to call an Uber.
So I am bouncing back to Grand Rapids. I have a good friend who offered me a place to land, and I have people there who for reasons I cannot explain still enjoy my company. If I find work in GR, great. If something drags me somewhere else, great. If I go remote and do a little bit of both, even better. Honestly at this point my give a shit-o- meter is so broken it looks like the gas gauge in my old 1987 Buick. It does not matter where I end up. It matters that I keep moving.
Now I will admit I had to arm wrestle my own brain over going back. My first instinct was that it felt like failure. Like I was limping home to lick my wounds in the same zip code I escaped from. But then I actually did the math. I left Grand Rapids without a degree, without a plan, and with the kind of confidence that only comes from not knowing any better. I am coming back with two degrees, a pile of certifications, real experience, a funded retirement, and significantly less personal chaos than I left. That is not a retreat. That is showing back up to your hometown reunion looking better than everyone expected and pretending you are not enjoying it.
This too shall pass. The stress, the waiting, all of it. Some company out there is about to stumble into getting everything I have spent fifteen years building, and they are going to get it at a fair price because I am not desperate. I am just done sitting still. In the meantime I still have to wake up tomorrow no matter what, so fuck it. Let us have some fun while we figure this out.
Q
Q is a meat Popsicle living in Nashville with hopes and dreams of running away to retire earlier than all his friends. Skilled in the witchcraft of not giving a damn about the Jones’ and filled with a did it or damn it mentality. His thoughts are his own, and he is no role model.
