Tuesday, February 10, 2009

  The day I lost my job, my sister and mother were on the phone discussing the layoff.  "You're going to let her move back in with you, right?"  my sister asked.  My mother said that she intended to ask me to move home, but didn't want to discuss the matter immediately.

Three weeks later, I was back at home.  My $500/month insurance (through COBRA) meant that I only had $1000 of my unemployment insurance payment left with which to pay rent, utilities, etc...  My apartment rent was $700/month.  $300 for bills, groceries, gas?  Not going to cover them.  So I moved back in with the folks.  At first, I was embarrassed: 26 years old and moving back in with the folks.

I considered getting a job as a receptionist or a secretary, then discovered that there would be absolutely no increase in my "salary."  Your typical receptionist makes the same thing I make on unemployment insurance.  Crazy, huh?  And I was also turned down for the receptionist/administrative assistant positions for which I applied.  Apparently, an ability to design buildings does not necessarily translate into answering phones or typing up meeting minutes.

Am I still embarrassed about living with the folks?  Not really.  I make fun of myself for it, now, when people ask me where I live.  It does stink living out in the 'burbs, when all my friends still live near Downtown, but that just means I have to plan ahead a little bit if I want to see them.  And besides, I don't have the money to go out like I used to, so it's not that much of a hardship after all.

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