“Dear Margaux: Thanks for getting in touch with me. I appreciate the feedback, and although I’m sorry to hear about the position you’re in, I’m confident that with your skills that if you keep “flinging your resume” you’ll eventually be found by a lucky and smart employer who sees beyond the meaningless date of your birth and can appreciate your many gifts. You should also keep writing, because obviously you have a lot to bring to the table and speak passionately and eloquently for the millions you represent. I wish you the best of luck, NO ONE.”
I never heard back. So I’ll just wrap up with my response to the response I didn’t get to my response:
Hi, Annalyn ~ Very much appreciated your article, and since you added an invitation to contact you, I couldn’t resist. I’m one of those you profiled: an unemployed 56 year old woman who has been desperately searching for work.
I’ve been flinging my resume into the void with carefully-tailored cover letters since July 2014, when I lost my job. I stopped counting at 200 resumes flung, since the number was so depressing. From those, I got one phone interview, and one face-to-face, which I thought I knocked out of the park, but no job offer.Though I continue to search, my optimism has been worn down to a cynical realism, and the only thing that gets me up in the morning and fuels me is social media. That is where I rant, I wail, I tweet. In fact, this morning I was thrilled, because after I tweeted a hashtagging trend, #Whatareyouafraidof, three seconds later it got favored! By a kid! I felt like a million bucks! I expressed myself (and of course it was a cynical and humorous take on aging), and someone heard me, and appreciated what I said! And especially where I am right now, that is priceless.
I focus on #OLDERANDBOLDER, (which I just decided to change to #OLDANDBOLD to save letters), and I plan on hitting LinkedIn very soon with some heavy doses of truth dipped in sarcasm. I use this pseudonym so that I can continue my fruitless search for employment under my real name, and spew my special brand of venom with this one.
So even though I was once an upper middle class homeowner and am now on food stamps and medicare, relying on a generous parent to get by, and despite my best efforts, can’t get seem to get employed, I occasionally receive a burst of random positive reinforcement, and that means I’ve been heard. And appreciated. By someone “out there.” And that makes all the difference in the world. And thanks for spreading the bad news; at least it’s being acknowledged, and that’s essential.