MFD Test Part 2

For those that don't know, the process to become a City of Milwaukee firefighter is a three-step test. The test, which is held once every four to five years based on demand (it's a dream job for many, aka thousands of applicants), begins with a written exam, followed by an oral exam, and finally a pass-fail physical. 

Part one, the written exam, was held last summer. The reqs to take the exam were pretty simple: fill out some paper work and have a valid drivers license. Approximately 4,000 men and women took that written exam. Once the scores are tabulated, you get a ranking that determines your eligibility to take the oral exam. I took that oral exam this week and feel confident on my performance. 

Odds are I won't find out how well I did for at least 6-8 weeks. Based on those results, I will again get ranked to determine if and when I would get into the academy. I know a few firefighters who waited nearly three years to get into the academy, and all have found it well worth the wait. In the mean time all I can do it keep my fingers crossed.

OK, so I spent the first few posts on my blog complaining about losing my first job out of college. Damn economy. Boo hoo, it was in an office, doing something that, more often then not, I didn't find particularly interesting. Game over, whatever.

So here I am, at a crossroad of sorts: To the left I can look for another position similar to what I had, or perhaps something in a parallel capacity. To the right appears a golden opportunity. I can pursue something that I started to think about a few years back—ditch the office for a job that would give me a great deal of pride, and in all reality, be a lot more interesting than anything else I can imagine doing. Going back to school to become an EMT/firefighter is just the ticket. 

My grandfather was a firefighter, my uncle was as well, and now I plan to become the third generation. I'm sure it won't be easy, but the rewards, in my estimation, seem well worth the effort. After all, I never dreamt about sitting in a cubicle for the rest of my life...

Re-Employment Dis-Service

A couple weeks back I received a letter from the UID to participate in "Re-employment Services to assist you with your job search." Confused, but apparently having no choice other than lose my benefits, I attended the session today. 

I wasn't entirely sure how I was selected to participate in this, but figured it was in response to the massive number of white-collar jobs lost recently. Remaining optimistic, I figured at least it would get me out of the house and I might learn of a new job-search Web site, or something.

Being ushered into the classroom at the employment center, my fears were confirmed: I was part of the minority—college educated (one of, in my estimation, three or four of the 16). I was also probably the youngest person in the room, and apart from a couple other 20-something guys and a 20-something woman, actually looked presentable. Sitting in the classroom for this "orientation" I couldn't help but get teary-eyed from the stench of multi-packs-a-day smokers all around me (it took me back to the old gas station days...). 

Then the moderator began. Nice guy, doing his part to help the unemployed. However, this was a remedial course for remedial people. (Note: I am not presuming to be better than anyone I was taking the class with, however, I believe that graduating with a bachelor's degree within the last decades should qualify me to be exempt from such a class.) Topics ranged from, "You should have a resume," to, "You need to customize a cover letter for each job application." But my personal favorite was, "Does everyone have an e-mail address? You will need one to complete this seminar later when we register." 

Seriously? The hour I spent in a program designed to "help unemployed individuals look for work" was an hour I could have spent pursuing jobs on the internet, rather than listening to why cover letters are important.

Now here's the kick in the pants: The Re-Employment Services is a two part commitment. Yeah, I get to go back in a week to attend my choice of the following sessions:

1. Applications/Resources

2. Resume 1

3. Interviewing Basics

4. Resume 2

Wow. Since I was fairly certain that I am qualified enough to in fact teach any one of these courses, presumably in greater detail than they will actually cover, I had to pick one based on convenience of time. Here I come, Resume 2!

Finally, I was given a hand out explaining how each of us were selected to attend this session. It turns out that those of us in that room were predetermined to be most likely to exhaust our unemployment benefits (read: be a drain on the system for the longest amount of time). The determining characteristics were education, job tenure, previous industry, previous occupation and total unemployment rate. So I was profiled to be a likely drain on the system because I was college educated, had a job for little over one year (where longer tenure equals greater difficulty finding a new job, according to a "study") and was employed in a relatively stable industry.

Something seems a bit off, but I have a feeling fighting this would be more trouble than sucking it up and learning how to write a resume. Can't wait!

If only their profiling was actually accurate, I might have found a job today... or at least applied for another one.

Stages of Grief: Unemployment

Now in week 4 of my unemployment, I have had the opportunity to reflect on the past few weeks, and it has been brought to my attention by those closest to me that ups and downs I've gone through are much lose those of a grieving widow.

To quickly refresh, those stages are:

Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance

My loss, obviously, was my job. Looking back, it could have been a lot worse. I wasn't there for decades, I don't have kids to support, no mortgage, etc. I have rent, car payment and other normal expenses, but nothing that should break me. These factors I realized right away, within the first night. My stage one was acceptance. What made accepting the loss easier was that I wasn't too fond of the day-to-day work I was doing. It is tough to not see the people who I worked along side for over a year, and learned a great deal from--that was the hardest part. But the work, not so much.

Denial was never really a stage, as I had played the scenario through my head many times over the last few months, so to say it was a big shock, would be incorrect.

Depression was there, to a certain extent. Great friends and a supportive family disposed of any outward depression quickly, but every so often I have a 30 second panic attack--after which I remind myself that everything happens for a reason.

Bargaining was an interesting stage. I kept thinking to myself, "Why couldn't the company just cut my hours, or salary, etc.?" But I soon realized they probably held out as long as they could. Understandable given the economic nosedive over the past few quarters.

Finally I have dealt with anger. I kept thinking, "I worked really hard over the last year, and was promised things that I ultimately never received. F that!" I can't make those feelings go away and I'm not going to try. I was not let go for performance or lack of, or out of spite, the ball just didn't roll our way for too long. I could blame a lot of people, but what's the use?

After all, I feel that I've been given a chance to start over. To look for something I really like doing. Time to get up and go after the possimpable.

Notice of termination: The end or the beginning?

I was told to blog about this whole thing, so here goes.

A couple weeks ago I was let go from the marketing agency I worked at for over 13 months--the first full-time job I landed after college. I was not the only one to lose my job that day, as others at our company also fell victim to the economic downturn. While it was terrible to be sat down and told "we can no longer afford to keep you," a strange sense of relief came over me.

It was a scenario that I had run through my head a lot over the last few months, but to see it play out was surreal.

Now that it happened, so much is running through my head. The question of "What do I do now?" is staring me straight in the face. Was I angry? No. Disappointed? Yes. Surprised? No. Anxious? Yes. But it could be worse. I learned more than I could ever have expected in 13 months, which cannot be taken back. And about being anxious--I have this nervous/excited feeling that I can almost do whatever I want now. Stay agency side? Probably not. Stay in PR? Maybe. Go back to school? Perhaps.

This is just the beginning. All the exciting possibilities are ahead of me. I can't wait to see what happens.