For those of us who are unemployed, these words invoke confusion
and anxiety. The first time I was asked this question after my
layoff from a 16-year job at a major high-tech company, I felt like
I was a sophomore in college being asked, ''What are you going to
major in?''
I used to know what I was good at -- back in college and back in
my long-term job. Now, I am no longer sure.
Getting laid off blows all the standard elevator speeches, those
three-minute summations of professional life. I have tried
answering, ''And what do you do for work?'' with ''Well, what I used
to do was...'' or ''What I hope to do is...'' or ''I'm looking for
work in....''
No longer a member of a work family, there is no logo on my
baseball cap. No way for someone -- including myself -- to easily
peg me to some corporate or work environment. This sometimes makes
folks uneasy because we unemployed are unpeggable. But we're not
contagious. Nor are we about to hit you up for a contact or a job,
usually. We're just in transition. Major transition.
The first layoff is the hardest. It is a shock to your value
system, as well as your wallet and lifestyle. Of course, we all know
that corporate loyalty is a thing of the past. Today it seems to be
reserved only for the top executives, the ones with access to the
executive washroom, airline clubs, and top headhunters. They get
their golden handshakes as they leave.
Still, many of us grew up steeped in the value, ''Do a good job
and you will be rewarded.'' We've been trained to work loyal. And
most of us have someone in our lives like my Uncle Gus, who started
out with US Gauge as a machinist during WWII and retired as a
foreman, with the respect and fraternity of longtime employees. So
we've seen how loyalty once provided a lifetime career path.
And, as our own employer slid into economic trouble, we were
probably asked to work harder, to pick up the slack of those laid
off before us, to help bail out the company. The implied reward?
That our jobs would be saved -- echoing that work-loyalty ethic.
So when we find ourselves outside the company ship, no longer
bailing and no longer afloat, it is a shock. Especially the first
time.
The next time is easier. Or at least it was for me. When you've
been through it before, you know there is an end. And you know there
is no disgrace. It's not personal, it's business. You know how to
readjust your lifestyle, and budget down your expenses. You've been
broken into a ''portfolio'' career concept -- you keep a resume up
to date at all times, and try to make every career task strengthen
that resume.
Then you go to a party, and here it comes: ''And what do you do
for work?''
This question is especially rampant in our culture, where we are
defined by what we do, not who we are. In a workshop conducted by
Snowden McFall, president of Brightwork Advertising and Training,
McFall has her audience begin by turning to the person next to them
and giving a standard elevator speech -- answering the questions,
''What do you do for fun?'' and ''What do you love to do?'' Teaming
up in twos, one person speaks nonstop for three minutes, while the
other just listens -- they may not interrupt, just keep eye contact
and actively listen.
At first the room is still, with deer-in-the-headlights terror,
and then slowly, gradually, the pitch and excitement rises. But
three whole minutes, without interruption, on what we love to do is
a long time. Most of us don't have an elevator speech polished about
fun -- just about work, or about our children's accomplishments. As
Americans we think more of that primal question, ''What do you do
for work?'' than about ''Why do we work?''
Many of us work to eat. And to pay mortgages, soccer camp, and
car insurance. Presumably, we also work so we can enjoy life and do
the things we love.
That is so easy to forget in the workplace, where fun is not
usually perceived as having a return on investment. However, a study
I was told about in management class indicated that a characteristic
of a productive work environment included the presence of laughter.
Laughter erupting several times a day was directly correlated with
productivity.
And at the workshop, answering, ''What do I love to do?'' the
laughter began. First, from discomfort as we each moved closer to
what brings us joy. We offered tentative information: ''I go winter
camping.'' ''I fix up old cars and sell them.'' ''I watch my kids'
soccer games.'' ''I water color.'' ''I crochet.''
The next sentence reaches our passions, and we laugh as we get in
touch with what makes up happy. ''The White Mountains are
breathtaking in winter. I feel so alive there.'' ''Ever get gasoline
and grease on your hands? The sound of a motor purring is so
satisfying to me.''
Now, instead of answering, ''What do I do for work'' I have taken
to answering the question not asked, the question of ''What do I
love to do?'' It's a lot more fun to answer, and doesn't change with
the economic times. I also ask my questioner what they love to do,
what do they do for fun. Most people are surprised. They have their
deer in the headlights moment, as they search to remember.
At a recent social engagement, I overheard a fellow being asked
that question, ''And what do you do for work?'' I paused my ongoing
conversation to eavesdrop, and overheard a delightful response. The
speaker said he had been in high tech for years, surfing the
economic turbulence.
When asked, ''What do you do for work?'' he replied, ''I am
currently between layoffs.''
Jill Hackett is a technical writer and the author of ''I Gotta
Crow: Women, Voice and
Writing.''
