The Secret Samurai Code for Surviving Joblessness

“Don’t stop showering,” a former coworker told me in hushed tones before I left the office for good.

He’d been through an unemployment season of his own, and I knew from the rare serious nature of his demeanor that I was receiving some sort of secret samurai code for surviving joblessness. “When you give up on personal hygiene, you wind up in a Bad Place.”

Okay. Got it.

It seemed like needless advice. Sound, but needless. I’ve always been a fan of personal hygiene. Would being unemployed really change that? Would I soon be gathering up my five different daily hair products and dumping them in the trash?

Well, no. But after a few weeks at home I saw the temptation to let myself go start to sneak up on me.

I didn’t get completely coifed every day. I got to the end of several days and realized I’d never even put on a pair of shoes.

I could see the slippery slope. And the need for a credo or personal code of conduct. Not that I’m a huge rules person—only that I didn’t want to be an unwashed one.

Based on that former coworker’s words, several other people’s wise advice, and my own thoughts and experiences, I came up with . . .


My Unemployment Manifesto

I will shower daily and will not stay in my jammies all day.

I will not get addicted to soap operas, Springer, M&Ms, or Merlot.

I will ask for help when I need it.

I will finally clean out my front closet that looks like a garage sale threw up in it.

I will graciously accept people’s advice, remembering that they mean to help and encourage and not to imply that I’m not doing everything I can to find a job.

I will remember that my skills, experience, and value as an employee haven’t changed, only my employment status has.

I will remember that this isn’t the end of the world, that others have it much worse, and will seek to help those needy folks with some of my extra free time—for their benefit as well as for mine.

I will, for the time being, give up Starbucks, bookstores, pedicures, and, sigh, TJ Maxx.

I will let myself freak out from time to time, but after a few moments of crazy will calmly remind myself that I won’t wind up living under a bridge somewhere. Really. And if I need help with this reminding, I will call one of my level-headed friends.

I will continue to be happy for others’ successes.

I will not be embarrassed about my current status, nor unforgiving toward the people who made the tough decisions that put me here.

I will let myself enjoy the new freedom to sleep to my heart’s content, have leisurely lunches with my mom-friends in the middle of the day, and take walks to the nearby lake on beautiful, sunny afternoons.

I will remember that this turn of events was not a surprise to God and that he’s still in control. And when I have trouble believing this, I will lean into my friends’ trust and belief until my own returns.