SavvySugar Community member littlemissjobhunter is part of the sobering statistic: nearly one out of 10 Americans are out of work. Join her in the trials and tribulations of a job-seeker — a journey that'll maybe help you understand that the unemployment figures aren't just a number. Disclosure: this new series may incite sorrow, humor, and maybe even a little hope.
Since my return back to the US, I basically consider my iPhone to be an extension of my limbs. Not for the apps or even for the phenomenon of flinging angry birds at grim green pigs but for the ability to stay connected to my email 24 hours a day, seven days a week, on the go. I have the ability to correspond to recruiters with the push of a few keys without ever being chained to the confines of my home.
I had been in contact with a large-size Midwest retail chain — Company A — to keep this anonymous. In my four years of attending university in the Midwest, I had started to recognize the various local area codes; 847, 773, 630, and 224, just to name a few. One day as I was perusing the jobs section of Craigslist, I heard my phone rumble from the glass table not 10 feet away.
To find out who is calling, read on.
With a leap of faith, my mind, body, and soul dashed for the rectangular shape that ruled my life. Two seconds too late, the 224-xxx-xxxx missed call flashed back at me as a sign of defeat.
iPhone: 1 , me: 0.
Then it struck me. 224! NOOOOOOOO. This potentially could have been a phone screening or better yet, a first round interview. In a moment of desperation, I redialed the number hoping for a live line, but instead, was quickly mocked by an evil busy signal.
By means of calming my nerves, I went about my day as normal, attempting to shrug off any anxiety plaguing my thoughts. Somewhere between folding the laundry and making lunch, I heard the familiar vibration coming from the glass table. “Hello?” I exclaimed in anticipation. No response. I stared down at the iPhone. The screen showed that I was still on the line with 224-xxx-xxxx, and we've apparently been chatting for 50 seconds. “Hello?” I said again, trying to cover up the annoyance in my voice, before realizing ATT had dropped my call. My cell phone beeped and “Call Failed, Try Again?” flashed across the screen.
Adamant to track down this mysterious caller, I hit redial. To my dismay, another busy tone. With an exasperated sigh, I vowed to put an end to this phone tag. For the next two hours, I was glued to my phone. No sound in the house went unnoticed.
Finally, with my last shred of hope, I redialed. My heart was pounding, and to my shocking disbelief, a ringing dial tone! “Welcome to the Illinois State Fertility Clinic & Sperm Bank. If you know . . . ” ‘Click.’ Well, that solves that mystery. After a 14 hour stint of nearly leaping at every buzz, vibration or rumbling in the house, my mind was finally at ease. Oh yeah, damn you AT&T for horrible reception. This anecdote is an example of the sheer frustration, anxiety, and utter stress that unemployment brings to the table. But, do not let it get you down. Know that, somewhere out there, someone else has a sperm bank story too!
Until next time . . . signing off,