About a year ago, I was going through a pretty rough time in my life. Having barely survived Recovery Summer, the once thriving company that had employed me for 15 years was about to go out of business. Twelve hour work days and substantial pay-cuts weren't enough to keep us above water. The job market was awful and I was receiving few callbacks on my resume. Two evenings a week, I'd find myself across town, wrapped up in the two to three hour process of donating my blood plasma to earn some extra money. When I'd get home, often after my kids were already in bed, I'd sit in front of my laptop and put sports merchandise up for bid on eBay. I knew unemployment was right around the corner and I wanted to put myself in the best possible financial position to support my family during that time.
Collective Misery is the Prescription for Failure
Collective Misery is the Prescription for…
Collective Misery is the Prescription for Failure
About a year ago, I was going through a pretty rough time in my life. Having barely survived Recovery Summer, the once thriving company that had employed me for 15 years was about to go out of business. Twelve hour work days and substantial pay-cuts weren't enough to keep us above water. The job market was awful and I was receiving few callbacks on my resume. Two evenings a week, I'd find myself across town, wrapped up in the two to three hour process of donating my blood plasma to earn some extra money. When I'd get home, often after my kids were already in bed, I'd sit in front of my laptop and put sports merchandise up for bid on eBay. I knew unemployment was right around the corner and I wanted to put myself in the best possible financial position to support my family during that time.