Matt is unemployed again. Or will be, by the end of this week.
We didn't expect his time at this company to be too long anyway. But we were hoping he'd have something else lined up by the time the sheetrock dust had laid him low.
This economy is starting to piss me off.
When I decided to spend my life with Matt, I knew that unless he wanted to get out of the industry altogether, he would always have a job. A good, well-paying, health-insured job. Buildings are always built, and they need good people to build them.
What I didn't know was that, starting in November 2001, we would have an almost cosmic streak of bad luck. I was laid off from my lucrative (for Mpls) managing editor position during the immediate post-9/11 panic when my magazine was shut down. ("Here's a box. Be gone by noon.")
Six months later, Matt was fired from the Lakes & Plains Regional Council of Carpenters and Joiners (another blog for another person on another day), and has since been bouncing from company to company as contractors streamline and shut down new hires.
I know you make your own luck. But I'm starting to wonder who's laughing at us out there, beyond the clouds.
Matt was told today that there wasn't any work beyond Friday. So on the way home he stopped at another company he'd heard was thinking of hiring. He walked in the door and the HR person dropped her head. "We just hired three guys yesterday," she said glumly. "I was thinking of calling you, but I'd heard you'd been picked up."
Everyone says things will pick up in construction "this summer," "in a couple weeks," "down the road a bit."
Publishing is even worse. And what burns me up is a new book we got in the store today. It was a book about how to get a good night's sleep. At the beginning of every chapter was a little poem or saying about sleep. One read:
"...But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."
-- Walt Whitman
Jesus God. Whoever edited that book has a job. I don't.