I find that when one is unemployed, after some time the days just seem to meld one into the other, where Tuesdays become Thursdays and Saturdays Mondays, where time can come to a crawl if you stare long enough at a clock or speed past you unnoticed as you doze lazily in your reading chair, on and off throughout the sunny workday afternoons.

Just the other day, in fact, my wife was reminding me that it’s been a month and half since my contract as a software developer was terminated. My termination couldn’t have been nicer, though. The CIO of the small Pittsburgh software company I worked for called me himself (I was able to telecommute from the comfort of my home office and so rarely did I need to actually go into the office). Although he said my work was exemplary, commendable, a model for all software engineers to follow (well, perhaps he didn’t use so many words … and maybe they weren’t actually these particular words), my services were simply no longer needed. Cut to my face and imagine a look of sheer astonishment. What? Was it something I said? No. Was it something I did or didn’t do? Um, no. What, was it that joke at the company picnic that I cracked about your wife? Silence. Well, I guess you can’t win ‘em all.

This is the third time in three years that I’ve been unemployed. My new-found nonchalance has been upsetting my wife, but it has been affording me a lot of needed reading time what with several hundred books in various locales about my study awaiting my attention. I’ve also been sitting back in quiet contemplation (my wife just calls this pure laziness) and pondering my future, wondering if, in this “present climate,” where jobs such as mine seem to be flocking eastward toward the rising sun, I’ll find anything. So far, “the pickins have been slim.”

The first time I was laid off, however, I was working as a full-time, permanent, salaried employee. The entire company, to the surprise of the entire company save the CEO, of course, went under, and my wife, myself and our bird, Sammie, all went into a panic. I’d never filed for unemployment before, didn’t even know how to go about it, and wasn’t sure that I’d qualify. Then there was the daunting prospect of contacting headhunters, building relationships, polishing the resume, sending them out with cover letters by snail mail and email, and checking if the only suit and dress shoes I owned still actually fit me. I suppose we just expected, after buying our humongous house, that I’d forever be making those boatloads of cash that once seemed to flow so freely from the pockets of employers. We assumed that, despite 9/11, our small company would persevere, ride out the depressing, crushing waves of uncertainty, doubt and the streams of perspiration pouring from the brows of upper management.

Well, like a lot of businesses that were going belly-up at that time, we weren’t spared. In thinking about it, there seemed to be this cascade effect going on, like business dominoes of a sort. Investors stopped investing, larger companies began laying off and cutting out critical projects, thus smaller companies in partnership were affected which caused them to either cut back or close shop, etc., on down the line all the way to the small fish, such as the company I worked for.

The second time I was laid off, a year ago now, things were simpler. Although it was more of a shock to me than the first time (the story of which would take an entire blog entry in itself), going about making arrangements for unemployment and contacting headhunters, friends and acquaintances was much easier and less stressful, especially on my wife and the bird. This third time, however, which seems like it was going to be old hat, is beginning to have its stressful effect on the family.

In terms of software development jobs, Pittsburgh seems to be drying up — it seems like we’re under some sort of business drought, or perhaps it’s all the offshore outsourcing. Most of the people I worked with at recruitment firms are no longer there; all of my friends and acquaintances seem to be happily employed at places that are filled to capacity, and the telephone, which used to ring off the hook when word was out that I was looking for work, now rarely rings at all, and when it does it’s usually some wily telemarketer who has somehow figured out how to bypass the system here in Pennsylvania in order to save me money on my long distance or to sell me light bulbs, or my mother, whose first words to me are “Have you found a job yet?”

This time, although I can feel the subtle waves of stress wash over me and through my abode, I’ve decided to put a lot more thought into my next job, sit back and take in the fresh air of my country dwelling, and try not to make any rash decisions. Who knows? Maybe this is a kick in the butt telling me to get out of the standard nine to five, make-someone-else-rich kind of job, and to just do for myself, make my own way, start a new company, become an artist, or get my Ph.D. in ancient languages and philosophy. I don’t rightly know, but I do know this: It’s mid afternoon, the sun is out, the breeze is flowing, and I hear birds chirping and kids playing, so I think it’s time I get out of the house, sit out on the porch with an iced tea and a book, and ponder my next move.

Thomas J. Clancy