A year ago I hit my personal bottom in this cataclysmic recession of too many familiar stories... I went for an interview for a holiday job at Toys 'R Us, nine months into my unemployment, and was summarily dismissed.  When I was asked what my salary needs were, I said "$10/hr," which I last earned in 1985.  I was told my expectations were too high.  I was then asked if I had any schedule limitations, and I said that I liked Sunday mornings off so I could attend a faith community, but other than that I was available.  I was told that Sundays are one of the busiest days, and I could leave the interview because it wouldn't work out.

I thought those very dark, down in the morass at the bottom of the chasm thoughts. 

Four years ago I had returned to school to get my master's degree in health care administration, after a career in nonprofits was wearing me out, with the increasing pressure for more fundraising.  I had studied an extra year to get licensed, attending school at night or on week-ends after a week of work.  Then I moved back to my home city; a solid career of management experience behind me, fresh degree and licensure and an unlimited future in front of me.  I thought.

There sometimes is no magic to a brilliant second career.  I went the traditional route.  More education.  More credentials.  Unceasing job interviews, for any related (or unrelated) foot in the door.  I volunteered at a professional association.  I wrote compelling cover letters and follow-up thank you letters.  I was a finalist for the job at least a dozen times. I volunteered at a homeless shelter, until it started to seem too close, and that within weeks I might move to the other side of the interview desk.

I went on another job interview; I told my friend I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell for this job, but I went to any interview that was offered. I could contribute to the anthology (as could many readers) of What Not to Do As a Job Interviewer.  After three more interviews at the Not A Snowball's Chance in Hell job opening, I got the offer.

I am now almost a year back among the employed. I am again a manager, in a health care system, doing important work.   I have lost, however, the illusion that I deserve to be here, or know more than the next person. It will take me years to recover financially from the credit card debt I ran up when the savings ran out.  And I know I am very, very lucky.

This brilliant second career is of course only the most recent chapter of the zig-zags that are patched together to call a career these days.  I hope to be able to influence how we implement health care reform in a small way.  I know, that I also was lucky, that in my year without insurance I avoided a health disaster.  I get to seem them frequently, now:  the person without insurance who didn't come in until the diagnosis was Stage III cancer; the patient we will discharge to a homeless shelter.

I usually like to sum up these little essays with a zinger, or a brilliant insight. I have none for this topic. We are still in the soup, and need each other more than ever: in our work, in our lives, in our community life, and even in our politics, which embraces all of the above whether we would have it that way or not.