Funemployment

I'm not technically unemployed. Technically, I have a job. Unemployment statistics don't count the underemployed, which is what I am- and woefully so. Sometimes I wonder if collecting unemployment would actually be more profitable than the meager income I have now. I've been spending my afternoons alone at my computer, searching fruitlessly for jobs to apply to and getting frustrated by the fact that the phone isn't ringing and wondering why my resume appears to be made out of invisible ink.

The last few weeks, however, I've been taking time out of my strict schedule of feeling sorry for myself by volunteering. Why I didn't start doing this earlier, I have no idea. I discovered the volunteer opportunity when I applied for a job at this particular organization. Of course they didn't even call me for an interview, even though I was more than qualified for the job, (and would be damn good at it) but while I was perusing their website, I saw a contact email for those interested in volunteering. I didn't hesitate.

The organization works with refugees, and the volunteer coordinator was practically salivating when I told her my background (nanny, tutor, English teacher to those who don't speak a word of it), so once my background check cleared she set me up with a refugee family with four children, only one of which kind of speaks English. I was actually really excited about that.

I think Joey was right when he told Phoebe that there's no such thing as a selfish good deed. I was having a rather blah day last week: no work at all, so I hadn't even bothered to put a bra on until two o'clock in the afternoon and feeling generally shitty about the fact that I was home while everyone else was out having a career. Then I went to their tiny two-bedroom apartment (for 6 people) and my day got a million times better. I've mostly been helping the two older kids with their homework, which requires teaching the 7-year-old how to read. But I've also been helping their mother with English (putting post-it notes on everything in the apartment), teaching her how to write checks, and going through their mail so she knows what to throw out and what is important.

It wasn't until today though, that I realized something: the mother and I are the same age. I was going over "what's in a wallet" and on my driver's license she pointed out the year I was born. It wasn't until I got in my car that it hit me: She noticed it because she was born in the same year. And that's where our similarities end. She's married, with four children- the oldest one 11, making her a mom at the ripe old age of 17. She was also forced out of her own country by a government that wouldn't allow her to speak her own language or practice her own traditions and into a refugee camp, where she most likely gave birth to her youngest child. So yeah, it kind of puts things into perspective.

I'm going to remember this the next time I'm about to vent an angry email to Fen about how no one will hire me. From now on, I'm calling it funemployment. It's an opportunity to do things at 2 in the afternoon that I won't be able to do when I finally get a job. Because I will get a job. The recession won't last forever. Right?