Help! I’m out of work, and not ready to retire.  What next? It takes more time to search for a job each day than when I worked at a job each day.  I check the internet daily for who might be needing what I do – it might be time for a makeover.  Everything is on the internet, and they have a way of knowing what you want to know, so I’ve gotten offers from resume writers, from groups selling books on writing, offers to edit books from Russia, would I like to write off color poetry, companies suggesting a seminar where I am guaranteed I’ll be rich and famous, if I give them time and some money.  I didn’t want to spend money when I’m not making any, or time when it’s not productive, so I passed on those ideas.

Looking for a job is a job. I heard about a great project, but that’s on hold; they asked me to wait awhile.  Talked with a supervisor about another job, they love me, but can’t make a decision.  I sent some of my poetry to greeting cards, the editor tells me to send her some more.  Articles are written and ready to submit. I enjoy writing, and did even before they called it bloggin.

Networking.  I called people I know who gave me names of people they know who were hiring, but they’re not now. I applied online and was told at the end of the application, “That job is no longer available.”

Working was fun, made me feel good! I learned that early. I’ve sold cars, painted walls (and cars), wallpapered ceilings, analyzed legal documents; sewed drapes, created costumes for 4 kids (no money for these), cleaned restaurant fryers, taught Head-Start, worked on pipelines, served as a sympathetic ear to many needing to talk (no money here, but satisfaction), ironed sheets on a mangle at 2-cents/each, made cabin double beds using those nicely ironed sheets, baked desserts for the local teachers’ meetings, held a day care-school in my home, wrote custom birthday poems, was a reporter on a local newspaper, and worked in my mother’s Town Clerk office. None of these things seemed like work, but some of them were called jobs.

Work has been part of me since I learned to clean the cabins Mom and Dad owned, way before people figured out that a group of cabins joined together was a “motel”. Each day after school I made beds, cleaned toilets, mopped the floor, and made money to buy school supplies and clothes. I used lay-away at $1.00 down for 4 button-up worn backwards sweaters, getting to wear them only after I paid the $12.00 balance in full. Mom and Dad didn’t believe in allowances, but they paid us for a day’s work and they made sure there was always at least a day’s work ahead.

So, I’m not ready to retire. Never will be, I’ll bet.

Copyright Myrna Estey Coleman