validation

It’s a beautiful number but I’m happy to relinquish it. I am no longer Job Seeker 616666009. I’m no longer unemployed. I have a job to go to.

I’m in the middle of my fortnightly phone appointment with Sarah, discussing the templates project, when an unknown number appears on my smarty-pants-phone’s screen. I know who it is.

“Sarah, another call. Ring you back soon.”

It’s Jill, the MindMatters national program manager. I hear no joy in her tone and prepare for bad news. She circles round, offers me a job, but not the full-time job I applied for. Someone left, she explains, and the other project officer wants to work part-time, so she wants to appoint two part-time project officers. Would I accept a position three days a week?

Would I what! I’ve worked three days a week for the past six years. Even at three days a week this job is a substantial pay rise on my employment for the past 12 years.

“I’m delighted to accept your offer,” I chortle.

“Welcome aboard then.” We discuss a starting date and other details. My first day’s work will begin at 4:10pm Wednesday week when I fly out of Tullamarine to be at the MindMatters annual one-day staff conference in Adelaide the following day.

Immediately I call and text my good woman, my parents, son and daughter, my referees, anyone in my personal address book. Everyone congratulates me, says how smart I am. I don’t feel smart at all. But suddenly I am again a person wanted for my skills and talents, and paid for them.

  

Why is a job so important? My abilities are no less for not having one, but a job validates me, gives me an identity people incidental to my life can hang on to. “What do you do? Victorian project officer, eh? Mental health promotion. What’s that about?”

This should not be so, but for most of us it is.

 

Unemployment could be a catalyst for new opportunities, but in practice it strangles most. Money drains from bank accounts and is not replaced. Life contracts, everything goes on hold.

Now I can think about replacing the TV my son will soon repossess, getting the new glasses and denture I need, paying my owners corporation fees, and the JRT’s registration.

My slide into retirement has hit the wall.

Rock on.