In December 2008 all anyone could talk about was the recession and the impending doom on the horizon. In New York City it was constant chatter. No matter where you worked, no matter what you did, you knew deep down inside that your job could disappear in the blink of an eye.
I came to New York right after college in the fall of 1996. For twelve years I paid my dues in advertising, working my way from secretary to junior copywriter to senior copywriter, to finally creative director. All of those years my job was my life. I would come home late working on TV campaigns I hoped would win me awards. I would stay out late with friends and coworkers drinking, socializing, networking. I never dated. And by the time the weekend rolled around I was thoroughly exhausted. All I could manage to do was lay on my couch, order in all 6 meals, and watch Lifetime movie marathons so that by Monday morning I had the energy to get up and do it all over again.
By December 2008 I was just beginning to find a balance in my life. I met my future husband that summer and was trying to figure out a way to merge our lives. He in upstate New York and me, smack in the middle of NYC. We decided he would look for jobs in Manhattan and move into my Brooklyn Heights apartment with me. I had bought it in May and was still settling in. It made sense for us.
My job was secure. My art director and I were up for a raise and a promotion. We had gotten our agency its bonus from one of our big clients and we were continuing to produce work that was making our clients happy. But practically overnight everything changed. Suddenly, we had new bosses and there were new rules. It didn’t matter if we got our work done on time. It mattered to be seen. Our new bosses were staying at the office til 9, 10, sometimes midnight and later. We were expected to stick around as well. Even if we literally had nothing to do.
I developed an eye twitch. For the life of me, I couldn’t make it go away. Every day it got worse and worse. It was almost comical. Nothing I did at work seemed to help my cause. I stayed late, but the new guys never noticed me. I volunteered for projects they were working on, but no one ever utilized me. I was constantly looking over my shoulder to see who was watching. Nothing felt good enough. Nothing felt secure. My ego and my self-confidence slowly, but steadily slipped away. I was almost sure it was coming. I would lose my job in this horrible economy and how in the world would I find a new one? I kept hearing “in a recession advertising is the first thing to go and the last to come back.” If I lost my job I wouldn’t just be out. I’d be down and out. How would I pay my bills? How would I pay my mortgage? Every day the eye twitch got worse. Every day I waited and waited and wondered… and then it happened.
The day I got laid off I felt a mixture of emotions. What surprised me most of all was the feeling of calm that came over me. As soon as I knew it was happening, I was able to relax. There was no more wondering, no more reading into everything, no more trying to guess my fate. Here it was. I lost my job a few weeks before Christmas in the middle of a recession in New York City. And there was nothing I could do about it.
For a few days I let it sink in. This was the first time in my entire life I had lost a job. And it wasn’t just losing a job. It felt like I was kicked out of my career. I had earned my way to creative director by putting my whole life into my career for the past 12 years. It was as part of my DNA as being left-handed and having blue eyes. It was my identity. Without it, who was I?
The depression that came next was both surprising and expected. I mean, I knew I’d be bummed out. No more regular paychecks is a scary thing and with friends losing their jobs every day, it began to feel like an epidemic. I would roll out of bed every morning with the best intentions. Today I will go to the gym! I’ll go food shopping and buy only healthy, reasonably priced food! I’ll network and find a new job! I’ll catch up on writing my screenplays!
But I would do none of that. I would sit on the couch in my pajamas, emailing my resume to the few jobs on monster.com and ordering in with what little money I had to live off of. It sucked.
An old boss reached out and hired me and my art director for a freelance project. It would only last us a few weeks, but it would help us through the holidays. It gave me a reason to get up in the morning again. And it gave me hope that even in a tough economy – there are jobs to be found.
I think that realization is what started to save me. I kept hearing the frightening statistic of the growing number of people who were losing their jobs every day. Seven percent climbed to eight percent and then to nine percent. It was all anyone on the news was talking about. But that realization stuck with me. Yes, nine percent of the population losing their jobs is horrible. But that means that 91% of the population STILL HAS A JOB. I wasn’t a part of the majority. I was a part of the minority. I wanted to join the rest of civilization again. I became determined to change my fate.
Suddenly, I had hope. More than hope. I had drive. I had a plan. I was going to get a job. I started by getting my self-confidence back. I reminded myself of all of my career accomplishments. Then I focused on my personal accomplishments. I am a good person. I have a great family, great friends, and for the first time in my life – a man who is both my boyfriend and my best friend. And together he and I could conquer anything. But then it dawned on me… what job did I actually want?
The “lucky ones” were working all hours of the night, slaving away at their desks, doing twice their normal workload. Did I want to go back to where I had come? Did I want to welcome back my eye twitch (which, ironically, had gone away the day I got laid off)? My father has told me many times that in Chinese the symbol for crisis is the same as opportunity. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. It was a chance to not just change my fate, but determine it.
What did I want? I wanted a job in advertising for sure. But I wanted “normal” human hours. Somewhere people must be working from 9-5 or else it wouldn’t be a common expression. Somewhere I could be valued for my background and my creativity while being utilized instead of overworked and undervalued. Somewhere out there was my perfect job. Even in the middle of the worst recession I had seen during my career. I stopped focusing on the bad and started focusing on the good. I stopped listening to the depressing news. I stopped worrying about how I was going to pay my mortgage. I just knew that I would and I could. And I was right.
My perfect job found me. I had posted my resume on monster.com and a recruiter reached out to me. She worked for a digital advertising agency that had an opening in its New Jersey office. The pay was almost exactly the same as what I had been making. They were hoping to fill the position with someone who had NY agency experience, but was ready for a more suburban, settled life. The hours were from 9-5.
A year beforehand I would never have even considered such a job. But in April 2009 it was everything I could have asked for and more. They worked with me so I could commute from my Brooklyn apartment until I moved closer. They gave me assignments where I was needed and valued. And they gave me an opportunity to change my life the way it needed to change.
I sold my Brooklyn apartment, bought a home in Pennsylvania, and moved in with my now fiancé. Life is so different from December 2008. So much more fulfilling. So much happier. So much more of life instead of work. Losing my job felt horrible and scary at first. But it turned out to be the best thing that could’ve happened to me.
My crisis became my opportunity after all.
