Advice from a jobless job counselor: Job hunting is a full-time job

By Kathleen Kenna

I’m an unemployed job counselor, so I can offer only the advice I gave to hundreds of clients over five years in two states.

Many of my clients got jobs, from $40-an-hour to minimum wage, from multiple degrees to no GEDs, so I know a few things about success.

Working in government and non-profits, I heard so much about employer abuse, and witnessed enough unethical workplace behavior, that I have learned a lot, too, about what it means to work in the United States during high unemployment.

I learned, for instance, that it’s legal to pay workers to stand on their feet 60 hours a week and pay below minimum wage.

I learned that anyone can be “termed” (the new, upbeat word for being fired or terminated) for any reason by any employer at any time in America’s “at will” states.

So, I offer my job-hunting advice with a harder edge than I ever delivered it as a job counselor, in countless public workshops and private counseling sessions.

The idealistic, earnest counselor:  Job hunting is a full-time job.

The unemployed job counselor:  This is still the best way to find work:  Treat each day as a work day, by keeping a regular schedule, and searching for employment, following leads, rewriting resumes and cover letters for each application, and tapping your networks.  Do volunteer work, if possible.

Job-seekers:  Easy for job counselors with salaries to say.  How do I buy groceries to support children and/or spouse, and/or aging parents, while trying to go to job fairs?  How do I pay for the bus to get to the job center every day?  How can I pay for WiFi, or even dial-up, to do job searches at home, while caring for my family?

Most job counselors are social workers, linking clients to a range of services, from getting unemployment insurance extensions to finding community supports, such as assistance with paying utility bills — especially for winter heating — and free/low-cost legal aid (i.e. for unjust layoffs, workplace discrimination, and unfair workplace practices).

They link people without jobs to training, so they upgrade old skills or learn new ones.  I’ve been fortunate to see this succeed in one of America’s richest cities (San Francisco) and one with the highest unemployment (Las Vegas).

I’ve been especially fortunate to see how job training helps the most vulnerable in our society, from veterans of the Iraq, Afghanistan and Vietnam wars, to workers with disabilities.

Increasingly, counselors are linking job seekers to food stamps, food banks, and community food pantries.

Here’s a question that we, the people, might consider in this rough economy:

When those with jobs balk at paying higher taxes — and are encouraged in this charade by wealthy politicians and well-funded groups — social services wither and die.  They’re ending all over the U.S., even as the need is mounting.

How to help our neighbors without jobs in the world’s richest nation if we’re squeezing non-profits and public service workers?

It’s called public service for a reason.

(With thanks to Trader Joe’s for another brown paper bag, re-used then recycled.)

Hoover Wind on working retail, getting film degree, working at non-profit

I was laid off in ’08 from a retail store where I know my work suffered from my anxiety of having just graduated with a degree in film without any connections to that industry.

As much as I loathe the retail system (it’s wrong to mistreat and belittle people simply because they’re serving you), I don’t blame Wall St., Obama, the banks, etc. for my unemployment.

I was messed up, and trying to get myself together, after graduating, and the end of a toxic relationship.

I try to be a moderate, but after two years of collecting unemployment while I tried to stay afloat, I have to say thanks to the state.

And thanks to all my friends, who were helping me, because they’re taxpayers too — as they were all too eager to remind me.

The job search was muddled, clumsy and never all that comfortable.

Sometimes, I would wear a shirt and tie, and show up for interviews that were nothing more than promotional seminars that took two-hour intervals out of my life.

Other times, I would go to some business student’s start-up; get a vague description of the job, and a vague description of why I’d be suitable.  They wouldn’t seriously consider me for the job, but everyone was polite enough to through the motions.

After awhile, I realized I was not only resting on my laurels (which were nowhere near strong enough for leaning), but I was trying to find suitable work in an area in which I had no interest or skills.

I knew I could write.

I knew I could write, direct, and act, but my skills seemed so anemic, I never bothered to pursue a career in the entertainment industry.

I finally took an internship at a film production company in Philadelphia.  I learned various skills about being assertive and polite with people on the phone, networking, data entry, promotions, merchandise distribution, and DVD copying.

It was character building, and I got to live in an actual city.  (I live near Atlanta, Georgia.)

However, I was painfully lonely, never felt connected to anything, and acquired the general malaise of my old paying job.

I currently freelance for my family’s non-profit, no one hungry, and I do things I could never do in retail or as an intern.

I collect food from the market; take it to our house for sorting; then deliver it to churches, food banks and food co-ops, for women, children and families in transition.

I’m proud that we move a ton of food a week.  I’m the only paid worker (part-time), among a dozen volunteers.

I work as many hours as I want, but I also try to work as many hours as I can, because it never feels like an assignment or a mandate.  It’s just something I should be doing anyway.

Sometimes, I have to make small talk with people, and sometimes I have to play a Honda Civic-sized game of Tetris by figuring out how to get x amount of food in my car.

But it’s always rewarding, because I believe in the cause for which I’m working.  I mostly interact with my family and friends, and I always feel pride in what I do.

My real goal is to be paid to be funny in any capacity and in any medium.

In the meantime, I’m hoping to work full-time at no one hungry or for a company of equal purpose, friendliness and organization.