She's BAaaack

It certainly seemed, with the "inevitable" Middleboro casino going out with scarcely a whimper, the tribe scrambling in an increasingly frenetic (and frantic) manner to ink "intergovernmental agreements" plural with whomever was still quaffing the revenue generation Koolaid with gusto, that so long as I was concerned the immediate local threat had been avoided.  I got sucked into other aspects of life and the months rolled on.

Fast forward 8 months, and I am once again, after nearly 5 years of productive, gainful employment, looking for work.

As I told a former colleague of mine, this getting broomed through no fault of my own as a quadrennial life event is getting old.  Seriously old.  But here I am, stuck with the annoying and seemingly unbreakable bad habits of eating on a regular basis, and being terminally, hopelessly addicted to sleeping indoors.  Gotta do something about those bad habits of mine.

What makes this time more interesting for me, is the fact that my dear husband is at the same time actively looking for work.  He's been out of work since January of this year  (yessirree, 2012 has been a real pip) doing part time tour guide work for the Histrionic Academy as a means of keeping body and soul together, and sanity intact, while sending out endless resumes and cover letters.  Thus far, he's received several responses, has had at least 20-30 interviews, and within them, at least 6-7 follow-up interviews that we both thought had a good chance of  leading to an offer.  However, to date, still no soap.

And his final unemployment insurance benefit (including extension), ran out this week.

This is the first time in the history of ever in our relationship, that both of us have been "on the beach" at the same time, together.  Aside from the logistical praticalities ("OK, who's turn is it to monopolize teh interwebz?"), there are financial ruin realities that are so ugly to me I'd almost rather put out my own eyes than contemplate them.  Not the least of which is the fact that, after 2 years of trying, we had finally managed to modify our mortgage to something within shouting distance of possible, rather than at the "areyoukiddingme?" level of impossible.  A bare 2 weeks after that went through, and we had sent our first trial payment in on time, the ax fell and my position was eliminated.  I tell you, gentles all, someone upstairs is having quite the belly laugh at my expense.  Someone else has an EXQUISITE sense of timing, but in the grand scheme of things it's either laugh or cry.  I've made an executive decision to do both.  At the same damn time.  After all, I AM adept at multitasking.  Really.

Stop the carousel.  I want off.  NOW.

But running and hiding, curling up into a fetal position, jamming myself  into the deepest, darkest corner of the closet at the farthest end of the house, and sticking a thumb in my mouth, would not accomplish anything productive.  It's also unbecoming in someone with a quarter-century of professional experience to call on.

So for the past coupla weeks, I've been in what I call "sweep the shop and sharpen the tools" mode.  While in the back of what passes for my mind, I rehearse the sales pitches again, one by one.  "This is why I'd be a wonderful addition to your team, because of reasons...". "Please tell me what your most pressing problem is, that you want the person in this position to address immediately, here's how I would do it...."

That sounds nice and wonderful and oddly rational when typed out like that, but thing is, it's competing with the following at the same time, in my poor dazed head:
LOSER....LOSER....LOOOOOOSEEEEERRRRR.  I can smell the stinky, reeky, loser-y reek of loserness on you, you frickin' loser.

You are a loser in the great enterprise of life.  Thanks for playing, now please exit the planet and do so quietly.

Um.. How?