A Real Job?

The other day I was taking with a dear friend of mine about financial insecurities, a frequent topic on my tongue of late, and I stuck my foot in my mouth, another frequent item on my tongue. I said something about "getting a real job." And she replied, "oh, so you think I don't have a real job?" She went on to remind me of the importance of childcare. (So right my dear, my apologies yet again) Oh my, foot extraction is so cumbersome, rarely fully effective. In truth I was using a phrase I often use in reference to myself. As a freelancing consultant, a contract worker, I feel I have not had a real job in nearly ten years. It's been a good run, praise Goddess. This week though I have been thinking it is at an end. The last of my major clients ran out of money for the apparently frivolous work of occupational ergonomics, and will not complete the final phase of our long term project. With the loss of the automotive industry work over two years ago, this client was my last hope to keep my independent business open. I'd be okay getting a "real job." I like getting a real pay check. I have been putting in applications, but I have heard nothing, like my resume has arrived with a bad odor, nothing. Hum...

I have considered the option of a really bohemian life. Perhaps I could lease out my house. I even talked with my niece and her new husband about leasing it from me. I could go somewhere... But anywhere I go I take my hungry belly and my fragile self who needs a safe warm place and friends and church and especially family. See I still have a son at home. And his father could take him full time instead of half time as we do now. They would manage. But only manage. He still needs momma, and there's only a few years left. I give him things he can't get with dad, like clean toilets, and vegetables, and Sunday school, and I don't know, but I have tears now because whatever it is, it is important. And we need each other. So need to stay here, not go to some bohemia. I need a real house, and a car, and all those mom things, like taking him for a long bike ride in Townsend yesterday.

I have been a bit afraid. But friends have been comforting me, at the women's group at church and on the phone. One old friend said, "oh you say it is the end, but something always comes through." She has known me a long time. Yesterday a little sparrow sat on a bush where my son and I rested during our long bike ride. The little bird lifted her head and sang. I heard the old hymn "I sing because I'm happy, I sing because I'm free. His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me." Praise Goddess. It made me feel free and fine.

So today I got a call from a project manager with whom I have had subcontract work for several years. He thinks might be getting me a "real job" back out at ORNL doing safety oversight. That would be fine. It is not as free as I am now but it is not straining either. I spent the 1990's at ORNL. For a real job, it is about as low key as you can get, not like building cars where people work round the clock and fight machines day and night. It would be tedious and petty. But there are many fine bright people there and occasionally they do something of value. I have high hopes. So if you are inclined that way, pray for me.

But not just for me, for all of us. So many of us are unemployed, marginally employed, self-employed, and slowly slipping under. One need not be buried under sports cars and second homes and five TV's and on and on, to be struggling. We are cooking at home, turning down the heat, wearing the old shoes, skipping the preventive medical screenings and dental work, just waiting. I do think we will be okay. But for me, I'd rather have a real job, than lose my home and my son and wonder off from my community here. I want to stay and have a place where a calmness can gather around me, at least from time to time, a calmness encircling large enough to make a little shelter for others, from time to time. We shall see. "His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me."