The Psychology Of Unemployment

I hadn’t forgotten the psychology of unemployment but maybe I had underestimated it – until now I had been generally as positive as normal.  I’m not one of those impossibly-happy types but generally I am positive about myself, the world – bar the odd moan or ten, especially about Brexit.

It’s easy to sit here and criticise the unemployed, and there sure is a fair-sized collective of scumbags who simply don’t want to work.  I’m sure I could get A job tomorrow if I was not bothered about what I wanted to do.

Maybe I am simply being a bit too precious insisting that I will be a web developer.  Indeed I have just had my weekly soulful job centre session where they again said “you used to be a credit controller”.

This week has been a lesson in managing my ego and my expectations in general.  When I left the last job I concluded that I would be back in work by the end of January at the latest.  I also convinced myself that I would get offered both of the jobs I interviewed for last week.  I am (was?) certainly not short of confidence.

Clearly I need to adjust my expectations.  I am a junior.  I have a reasonably decent portfolio, a reasonable grasp of some technologies and just three month’s work experience.  I am likely competing against stronger candidates, those with more work experience or those with computer science degrees.

I could easily be out of work for several months.  Maybe until the summer.  This is going to be a long hard slog.

On the face of it I don’t mind it.  It is giving me chance to study and learn more, I have learnt a lot more.  I have done some good work, particularly with my portfolio.

But I cannot do what I want to do.  I cannot go out and get drunk.  I cannot go out for dinner.  I cannot go out for roast dinners.  Museums, theatre, football – whatever it is, I cannot fucking afford to do it.  I need a new computer.  I need a new phone.  I need decent DJ headphones.  I need…want some portable speakers.  I cannot afford any of it.

It really hit home this week when I ended up buying Sainsbury’s Basics ketchup.  Which isn’t actually that bad to taste, albeit a bit vinegary.  But it was like, “this is my life”.

Once I psychologically readjust I shall be fine.  It is my ego that has taken a hit.  Part of me wants to just go hide in a hole and be miserable.  In fact I have pretty much done that the last two days and today too.  I haven’t done anything vaguely useful, my room is a mess, my house is a mess, my e-mails are unread and there are a few empty bottles of alcohol.

I have spent a lot of time on Facebook though.  Therefore I am considering deactivating my account until I get a job.  There is a difficulty in that I would have to create a fake account to manage my pages with, and probably give someone I know admin rights to the pages in case Facebook realised it was a fake profile.  Sounds like a ballache, doesn’t it?

And I have to stop drinking so much.  I don’t normally drink this much, but 5 out of the last 7 days I have had a fair amount.  Only drunk once, but certainly drank enough on other nights – don’t worry Phillip Schofield if you are reading, it was Christmas booze and cupboard booze – you haven’t been funding it.  I wish I didn’t have a birthday to celebrate next weekend, or that I was going away the weekend after.  Not in the mood for either and I don’t want to drink.

I will of course go away to Bratislava.  Most of it is already paid for already, I have some Euros and can normally find one or two used post-Ibiza notes.  Plus its about £1 for a beer in Bratislava.  And I know it will do me a lot of good, unless I get frostbite – currently -6’C by DAY.

I am definitely not celebrating my birthday though.  I already had concluded against the difficulties and stress of persuading people to come out on the most miserable and skint weekend of the year in which half always cancel.  Annoyingly I am DJing on the Friday night, well not annoying that I am DJing as I suspect I may enjoy the actual DJing, but annoying because I just want to hunker down and start my detox.

Surprisingly I am now really looking forward to my detox.  Just a few days ago I was doubting my ability to complete it, especially being at home and unemployed.  I wish I could start it today but no way am I going to an airport in two weeks time without an airport beer.  Don’t even suggest alcohol-free beer.

Fucking hell it’s a bit of a gloomy read isn’t it?  Sure I am a bit miserable and have been for a couple of days but there is nothing wrong with being occasionally miserable – there are no highs if there are no lows, and boy I’ve had a lot of highs in my life.  I find writing about bad times quite cathartic and numerous times I have done so and I actually end up cheering myself up by the process of writing about it and realising that in the grand scheme of life, things are actually pretty good.  Just a little momentary shit blip.

Besides, at least I’m not stuck in a fucking boiling hot office moaning about being too hot despite it being fucking January.  Still gets me angry.  Just realised I don’t live in Bracknell any more!  Get the champagne out!

Next post will be all about love, joy, peace and happiness.  Or at least one of those.  I promise.

Right, Jerry Springer must be back on by now…