A Black Heart's Romance

So I'm sitting at home alone again. Another typical weekday. It still feels so foreign to me to not be getting up early to get ready for work. It's been almost 7 weeks since I finished out my time at my last job, packed up my things, and left it behind. 7 weeks plus of searching the internet for any open position that I could possibly make my skill set fit into. And 7 weeks of submitting resumes and cover letters with practically no response whatsoever.

I knew when I quit my job that it was going to be tough to find something else. I had just hoped that my 2 and a half years of experience of working in an office environment for a financial institution plus a college degree would come to my rescue, and that I wouldn't have to spend hours scouring the Earth for a new job. It seems that I didn't quite prepare myself for an extended period of unemployment, which now seems somewhat inescapable. If I had known how difficult it would be, would I have left my job so willingly? I can't imagine having to stick it out there much longer than I had already managed to.

I started working at my job as a temporary associate in July of 2007 - right after my graduation from UC Santa Cruz. I loved the location, I loved my co-workers, I loved my managers, but most importantly I actually loved my job. I worked in a small department of about 6 people doing the supporting tasks to back up the collections department. This entailed mostly paperwork - sending various letters to customers, calculating amounts due on loans, etc, with some customer interaction via phone as well. I was often told that this particular department was generally just a stepping stone for employees - the first step to the rest of an employee's career there. This meant that there were constant changes in the department's structure. Temps came in and out of the department, usually in short stints not lasting more than a few months before the job either proved to be too much and their assignment was "terminated" or until they proved their worth and were moved into the collections department.

Over the course of the many months I worked in that department, I developed a close relationship with my lead and was often interpreted as being second-in-command, though I was still just a temp. I always had the desire to learn more, and soon I was able to perform practically any task in my department, and was able to cover for any of my team-mates if they were out sick. I even learned most of the duties that my lead performed daily, and was put "in charge" of the department when she was out of the office. I often put in 10 hours of overtime a week to keep the department running smoothly and making sure all tasks were getting completed in a timely manner. I wasn't like most temps that were filtered in and out of the department. I quickly became the longest withstanding temp in the department. At one point my supervisor approached me about a position in collections, which I wasn't thrilled about, but began training for anyway. I began spending my overtime hours doing collection calls, while still performing my regular recovery department tasks during my normal hours. Only after a few weeks did it become obvious that the recovery department was suffering and I needed to spend my overtime catching up on the overwhelming amount of work that was beginning to pile up. My time in collections was (thankfully) short-lived, and I was given instructions to devote my time and attention strictly to the recovery department until things slowed down.

Soon I learned that my lead was going to be put on disability while she took some time off to have surgery and recover. I had now been in my department for over a year, and felt confident that I could handle things in her absence. She left me in charge of the department, which meant checking in with my team-mates to make sure that all tasks were being completed, training new temps that came into the department, re-organizing our structure and delegating tasks when other associates left the department, and completing my own tasks as well as my lead's daily tasks. After 3-4 months of proving my worth in the department I was finally offered a permanent position with the company and was hired on as an associate in February of 2009. I had been a temp in the same department for a year and 8 months.

I continued on in my normal routine in the recovery department until August of 2009 when I was again approached about a position in collections. I kindly declined the position as I was very happy with my current department and I was now also in the process of planning my wedding. This new position would require a schedule change, forcing me to work 2-3 days a week from 11-8, rather than my normal 8-5, not to mention a new requirement of mandatory overtime every other Saturday. This was extra time that I was unable to and unwilling to give up. I explained this to my supervisor and we seemed to come to an agreement that now would not be a good time to make that switch. However, the very next day I was approached again and this time I was not asked - I was told that I was being moved (my manager's request) despite my reasons for not wanting to and not being able to. There was nothing I could do and the following week I found myself at a new desk and beginning training for collections.

The collections department had changed drastically since I had last trained for it. Instead of dialing the phone myself to make an outbound call and picking up the line to take an inbound call, all early level collectors were now on an automated dialer system. The dialer connected my phone to my computer. The computer would automatically pull up an account, which in turn made my phone automatically dial the number tied to the account. There was never a period of time in which I had to wait for an answer. As soon as my phone beeped, I was either connected to a live person or an answering machine. There was no time to breathe between calls while I waited to be connected. It was immediate - one right after the next.

I had never, in my entire time working for this company, believed myself to have the right kind of personality to handle working in collections. Apparently neither did anyone else. The department change came as a complete surprise, and an unwelcome one at that, to most of my co-workers. None were hit as hard as my lead in the recovery department. She was losing her second-in-command, her most seasoned employee, the one person she could count on to take on anything that needed to be done.

My mornings now consisted of me forcing myself out of bed and dragging my feet to get myself ready and to work on time. Where I used to look forward to my day at work, I now found myself hating waking up every day. I knew I couldn't continue like this. After just a couple weeks of being in my new department, I approached my supervisor and embarrassingly broke down into tears in her office. This new position was already beginning to take its toll on me. I explained to her my dissatisfaction and how I never wanted to be moved in the first place, but that I was trying my best to deal with the decisions that were made against my will. She seemed to sympathize and even expressed her own knowledge that I didn't want to be moved. She told me she'd check with the other supervisors of each department to see if she could get me moved somewhere else. I now had a ray of hope, which somehow managed to last me through another week of collections. However after that week passed and I still hadn't heard back from her, I began to panic. Not wanting to wait any longer, I approached my supervisor again only to discover that there were supposedly no openings elsewhere and that I would have to stick it out until something opened up. It seemed as if all hope was gone at this point, and my stress level continued to increase day after day. I became overwhelmed with my daily tasks and found it hard to fall asleep at night, unable to stop worrying about what the next day would bring.

I let another week pass, becoming increasingly sleep-deprived and emotional. It got to the point where I would be on a bad call and I would have to log myself out of the system in order to get a hold of myself and my emotions. More than once I ended up in tears at my desk, and I would have to excuse myself to regain my composure in the bathroom. I had been speaking with my former lead almost every day to get advice on what my next steps should be. She recommended talking directly to our branch manager - a man whom I had never spoken to in my life, who didn't even know my name. But I knew that I wasn't going to get anywhere just waiting around for an opening, so I collected myself and went to speak with the manager. I explained to him my situation, my dissatisfaction, my original unwillingness to move, my stress, my new-found loathing for waking up in the morning to come to work - I explained everything. He told me he would call together a meeting with the department managers and supervisors to try and come up with a solution for me and that he would get back to me with an answer.

I played the waiting game again, with a new sense of hope. I figured if I had a chance at all, the branch manager could make something happen. Surely he didn't want to have an unsatisfied employee on his hands. So I waited. The meeting came and went, and I still had no word from anyone as to what could be done for me. I waited out another week before approaching my supervisor again about a decision. This time I heard the news that it just wasn't as simple as plucking someone out of a department and replacing them/switching them with me. But isn't that basically what they had done to me? When I was still in my old department we got a new temp about a week before I was moved. I trained her for that week, only later to discover that I was training my replacement. I had had a replacement lined up for me before I was even initially approached about the open position in collections. So now here I was, stuck in collections, with nothing left to do but cross my fingers and hope that a spot would open up in a different department. I felt as if my 2 years in recovery meant nothing. Hadn't I gone above and beyond the call of duty for that department? Wasn't that the department that I had proven my skills and leadership abilities in? Hadn't it been my job in that department that I was initially hired for? Where was my company's loyalty? Where was the compassion and the desire to satisfy a dedicated employee?

I resigned myself to hold on for as long as possible in the slight chance that another opening might come my way, but I knew even then that I wouldn't be able to perform my required tasks for much longer. I began my search for a new job and posted my resume on multiple career sites, and even began collecting applications to various retail stores, knowing I would have to take a huge paycut. As the days went on, my stress level and anxiety continued to increase to the point where I was getting emotional at my desk almost on a daily basis. I would call my mom and my fiance on my breaks and on my lunch and just cry and cry and ask for advice. Obviously quitting without another job lined up was a poor idea, especially with my wedding less than a year away and with tons of things still needing to be paid for. I continued my search for another job.

Finally it came to the point where my stress began to take a toll not only on my mental health, but now also on my physical well-being. After a nice birthday weekend with my fiance, I tried to mentally prepare myself for work the next morning. When I woke up, I was so nauseated that I couldn't make it out of my bedroom. I called in sick, which, if you know me well, you know this is completely uncharacteristic. I had only called in sick once before that in the 2 years that I worked for the company. I often came into work sick, knowing that there was too much to be done to call in. And yet, here I was, physically unable to get myself out of bed. The next day I still wasn't feeling very well, and I debated with myself about calling in sick again. I decided against it, thinking I could really use that sick time if I happened to get a call about an interview. So I forced myself to go in. Tuesday and Wednesday I was able to keep the nausea at bay as my team lead allowed me to do some skip-tracing work that didn't involve being on the dialer. Thursday I was put back on the dialer and became so ill by the middle of the day that I had to leave work at lunch-time. Friday I barely made it through 2 hours of my day before my body couldn't take it anymore and I had to ask to leave yet again. My stress had finally manifested itself into a physical illness unlike anything I had every experienced before. I knew by the time I managed to drive myself home on Friday that I couldn't handle the situation anymore. I called my mom and had her come over to talk. My fiance and I spent the weekend figuring out a budget to see if it was possible for me to just quit even though I had no job lined up as a replacement. With the help of my mom, her willingness to have my fiance and I move in with her if need be, and her encouragement that my health and happiness were far more important than making myself miserable everyday at work, I made the decision to put in my 2 week's notice when I returned to work on Monday.

When I came into work that Monday, I went directly to my supervisor and told her my decision. I was still holding on to the smallest hope that if they knew I was having so many issues as to actually threaten to quit, that they might arrange a department switch for me. Perhaps they may consider me such a commodity that they would fight to keep me there no matter what. This, however, was not the case. I was given the official paperwork and was advised to write my resignation letter. I was also told that in the interest of my health I could leave at anytime within my 2 week period. I decided to finish out the rest of the week. My symptoms hung around, but were not nearly as troubling as they had previously been. I managed to complete my week of work, with the knowledge that I would never have to make a collections call, or be stuck on an automated dialer again.

It was with mixed feelings that I packed my things to leave on my last day. I had made so many good friends, and had had so many good times during my 2 years and 3 months at my job. My supervisors had always been understanding and supportive and I had always enjoyed my job up until the switch to collections. I left on good terms, even getting the permission from some of my previous supervisors to have them enlisted as references on my resume. Which leads me back to where I am today, where I started this entry...

...Still unemployed, still actively seeking employment. In my 7 weeks of joblessness I've only managed to get myself 2 interviews - one with a temp agency in which I've had no luck whatsoever, and another with a direct company which was a complete disaster. Over a month has passed since I interviewed with the temp agency, and I haven't gotten a single call about a job that may work for me. This is probably because my representative refuses to return my phone calls, which has left me unable to complete their online testing assignments. In addition to completing a number of applications and submitting resume after resume, I also decided to try my luck with filing for unemployment. I waited 4 weeks to even have my phone interview (which was done last week), and now I'm playing the waiting game yet again. Once they speak with my previous employer, they have 10 days to make a decision as to whether or not they feel I'm eligible for benefits. Even if they decline my request, I can still appeal the decision. My fingers are crossed that I can at least get some sort of income until I can find myself another job.

It seems ridiculous that so much time has passed with nothing to show for all my efforts, but I know that I am so lucky and so blessed compared to most people in my situation. I have a wonderful fiance who, despite going to school full time, has taken on extra hours at his regular job to be able to qualify us for health benefits, not to mention that he has also taken on a number of freelance projects to earn us enough money to pay all our bills and have some extra to stash away for our wedding fund. I've also been blessed with amazing parents and amazing in-laws who have been a constant source of encouragement, kindness, and free groceries. All in all I am still learning every day to trust in God because he has never ceased to provide for me in all of the madness and insanity that has played itself out thus far. I know that eventually something will turn up for me. But right now, I think I'm supposed to be learning patience and how to increase my faith. I will pull through this. Maybe not as quickly as I had once hoped, and maybe not in any time-frame that might seem to make sense to me. But I take comfort in knowing that it will be in His perfect time.