I was a senior account manager with Fortune 500 clients, as well as some start-ups, and had assumed that I would continue my upward trajectory at the firm. None of it makes sense. Sure, some clients were tightening the belt and there had been less spending on traditional outlets in favor of new media campaigns. But, as for the excuse PR Worldwide gave me—“We need to look at our teams and decide where we can consolidate”—as far as I know, I was the only one fired on Friday. Also, their generous severance package doesn’t reflect a firm that is financially struggling. If anything, it feels more like “keep quiet money.” I shake my head and try to push it out of my mind. Dwelling on the “why?” isn’t going to get my resume done.
Resume drafted, I send it off to Jordan for proofreading and then begin making a list of samples that I might want for my portfolio. Even though I’ve been pretty religious about saving a file for each of my projects, I don’t have copies for some of the more recent campaigns. Though Darren offered to get me anything I might have missed, I worry that this might create a conflict for him and instead email Kate.
Hi Kate -
Hope you’re feeling better! If you’re back in the office, then I’m sure you’ve heard the news. I’m working on my portfolio and forgot to get some samples before I left. Can you please give me a call tonight?
XO
Allison
With the call to my mother made and my resume drafted today, I feel I deserve a break. I turn on the TV and figure maybe I’ll catch up on some movies to reward myself. But just like the fiction section at the bookstore, every movie that would normally interest me seems to be some sort of rom-com or has some love element that only depresses me further. I instead opt for channel surfing between the news, Bravo, and HGTV.
By eight o’clock, I can’t keep my eyes open and head to bed. Lying in bed alone, I try not to let the sadness overwhelm me and, thankfully, within minutes, I fall into a dreamless sleep. Even my subconscious doesn’t want to deal with my problems.
As I walk into The Cauldron, some retirees casually look up from reading their newspapers. In my heightened emotional state, their curious gaze feels more like a giant spotlight has been turned on me. While there are a few others tap-tapping on their laptops, they mostly look like students studying. There’s a guy around my age by the window with his computer and some papers around him. Perhaps he’s a consultant or freelancer. Even so, I feel like the fact that I’m here at eleven on a Tuesday morning makes it clear to everyone that I’m unemployed. They know I don’t have anywhere to be and see through my ruse. I avoided Starbucks for this reason because I didn’t want to get into a conversation of why I was “off work” today. I’m starting to realize how much my identity is, or was, tied up in my job.
I’m being ridiculous. Nobody cares or is making judgments about why I’m here. But still, I have a hard time shaking off these defeating thoughts as I make my way to the counter.
“Hi, again. Thanks for coming back,” says the guy behind the register. The same guy from Saturday. Eric, I think it was?
“Hi! Of course.”
I’m about to comment that it looks like a great place to work, but I stop myself in time. I don’t want to get into a small talk discussion of what I do, and I hurriedly order an almond milk latte.
He rings me up and then starts writing on the cup while saying my name, “Allison. Now is that two l’s or one?”
“Two. And you remembered my name. I’m impressed,” I say, smiling at him. Granted, I remembered his, but that’s easy—one cash register guy, hundreds of customers.
“I always remember our regulars,” Eric says.
“Didn’t this place just open?”
“Yep. So it hasn’t been too hard remembering names.” He winks.
I laugh and then turn to find a seat.
Even though all the tables are taken, there are some empty armchairs in the back, where I sit down and turn on my laptop. While waiting for my drink to be called, I open up my resume.
As I’m staring at my screen, I hear, “Allison? Your latte,” only it’s not at the counter, it’s next to me.
“Oh!” I almost drop my laptop while trying to turn the screen away from him. Recovering, I say, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome and sorry to scare you.” Eric smiles and sets down an oversized latte mug on the side table next to me. When he straightens up, he seems to hesitate for a second; but then he simply smiles again and heads back to the counter.
Perhaps he had planned to say something but my abrupt movements scared him off. Great. I’ve been unemployed less than a week and I’m already freaking people out. I try to bury this horrible thought by throwing myself into the task of job hunting.
After checking out some of the larger job search sites, the only openings advertised seem to be entry-level or assistant positions, which is frustrating since the last time I looked for work was when I really wanted one of those entry-level roles. I also check out the websites for the top PR agencies in Chicago, but their “jobs” pages don’t have anything listed. From being in the industry so long, I have contacts at all of the big agencies, and perhaps that’s the route I should be taking. But since the ones I know best are also wedding guests and know Stacey, contacting them would likely entail a full and embarrassing disclosure of my situation—fired by PR Worldwide and Neil (unless they’ve already heard this last part through Stacey). I take a deep, shuddering breath at the thought of navigating that minefield and double down in my online hunt.
While I’m immersed in my search, Jordan emails me her edits on my resume. I email her back my thanks and my concern about the lack of job opportunities posted for my level. She emails me back, “Did you contact any recruiters?”
Recruiters, of course! They would have the connections on jobs, and I wouldn’t have to make that uncomfortable contact with my agency acquaintances—a recruiter could handle that for me!
I first target the larger national staffing agencies. Most of them have positions posted on their websites, but they all sound vague and generic—“Chicago firm seeks PR Pro” or “Top PR agency seeks Account Manager.” (I push away a paranoid thought that this one is PR Worldwide looking to replace me—that their reason for firing me had less to do with their downsizing and more to do with my inferiority.) I try not to panic and simply email my resume with a cover letter of what type of position I’m looking for. There are some smaller agencies too, but I want to leave something on my to-do list for tomorrow. Then remembering that I have nothing else to do today, I email all the smaller agencies as well.
Still not too keen to return to an empty home, I order another latte and decide to crack open my new book on public relations in a social media world.
“Your latte.”
Again, I jump and look up to see Eric setting my drink on the table next to me since my hands are full.
“Thank you.” I’m still not used to the table service here, but appreciate the personal touch.
“That’s a good book,” he says nodding toward the title in my hands.
“Public Relations in a Social Media World?” I hold it up and am not sure if he’s joking.