So I'm a pretty rare diary writer here on Daily Kos. Most of my diaries haven't been about politics, after all; I'm much more of a science and nature writer, and we already have a superb scienceblogger in DarkSyde, and several very good diary writers handling the nature side of things. I've occasionally blogged about my experiences as a STEM Ph.D. in long-term unemployment.
Originally, this diary was going to be about the end of my unemployment, a triumphant return, the Test Tube Phoenix finally reborn. Instead, it's about setbacks, and perhaps a bit about the nature of hope. If you can tolerate something of a rant, a bit of snark and maybe a few nuggets of wisdom, follow me below the orange puff of smoke (Yay! A witticism someone else hasn't already used!) below.
A while ago, I read an article that should be familiar to many folks who read about poverty in America: Alternet's 5 Pieces of Advice for the New Paupers. In it, the author describes how he received an interview for a professional level job, a job that would have ended his nightmare of penury, destitution and functional homelessness. He didn't get the job because he was "the wrong temperature." The desperation showed through just a little bit, and he was rejected. Cast back down into the pit without a second thought.
Fast forward from my last diary, over a year ago, when I'd just lost unemployment and had no income. I am luckier then many, many people. I had a friend with a spare bedroom who took me in...in a blue-state city with some (but not a lot of) STEM employment. I managed to keep from losing my car by paying it off with the last of my savings. I opened up a tutoring business, T2P (Test Tube Phoenix) tutoring. It paid just enough money to keep from going bankrupt; SNAP and Medicaid took care of most of my food and medical needs.
I've often said it's a microcosm of the state of U.S. culture and politics; I, someone with a STEM Ph.D. (molecular virology) ended up broke, on SNAP, and on Medicaid, with no prospects. Even during the phony Ebola scare, did there suddenly spring whole from the head of Zeus a bunch of new virology jobs? Of course not. We certainly can't actually hire anyone. That would cost money and not get Republicans elected. Most of us scientists learned nearly 20 years ago that Republicans are the death of our careers.
But before the holidays, I got an unexpected gift in my voice mail: Someone at our big local teaching hospital who'd interviewed me (by phone) several months ago wanted me to come in for a new interview - this one with 8 different people. He'd changed the position essentially to one that I'd train into. It was a Lab Director In Training position at the hospital. Huzzah! A position created just for me! How could I fail such an interview?
Nonetheless, I prepared. I prepared like crazy. I boned up on all my technical know-how, studied (and came up with) a supervisory and management philosophy, and all the standard interview questions were carefully reviewed. I also was prepared to address their concerns about switching from research (very creative) to a clinical (very by-the-numbers and tightly regulated) career. When I showed up, I was ready. Nervous - who wouldn't be dealing with 8 different, potentially hostile people, in one day?? Nonetheless, after a lot of review from my career counselor, he was of the opinion that I didn't make any fatal mistakes, and the interview should have been enough to get the job.
But one week later, I got the call. I had been rejected.
The reason given was one of the classic dodges, a realistic-sounding reason but not the real story. I was told I lacked supervisory experience. There's no way I could argue with that, being trapped as a grad student, postdoc, or technician my whole career, I never directed a lab. So you couldn't tag it as a lie. But they knew that from my resume! If that were a deal-killer, then why bother setting up a day-long interview full of senior people in the first damn place?
I was the wrong temperature.
Too nervous, perhaps. Too enthusiastic. Too much showing that I was desperate for a way out of this terrible trap, and this would have vaulted me into the middle class...allowed me to marry my sweetheart and start a family. The message instead was this: You've been down? Stay there. We aren't giving you a ladder up to the level you'd trained for for 15 years.
And so for the second time in 2 years, the brass ring was pulled just out of my grasp.
Instead of beginning a job that could have lasted the rest of my waning working years, I took a temporary job with the New York State tax department. Pays barely above minimum wage. Mostly no benefits, though they offer health insurance after a while. So, have to try to juggle health coverages so I don't die in the interim. It's a "cattle call" job, really no better then any retail job, and one not expected to last long.
I'm sure folks will tell me "Be glad you have any job. Be glad you managed to get a little tutoring business off the ground, even if it only pays tip money. Be glad that you haven't been shot dead by some cop for the crime of being poor. Be glad you had the foresight to move to a state that expanded Medicaid, rather then one that just expects you to die. Be especially glad that, after a year with not even enough income to qualify for EITC, you aren't living out of your car."
Perhaps I am privileged. But it sure as hell doesn't feel that way.
They say that hope is like a phoenix, that it may burn itself from time to time, but it always rises from it's own ashes. Hope, no matter how embittered you get, is a hard thing to keep down. I really don't see any way out of this trap. The "yes" I so badly need to hear seems farther away then it ever has been, and I certainly am not getting any younger.
But on the other hand, I'm in with the state government. Maybe - just maybe - I will find someone where I belong, someone in the Department of Health that may give me a link to a job at my level, in my field. Maybe maybe maybe.
But maybes are, no matter how cynical I get, hope is still born. Phoenix, out.