The Way We Were

I’m a little cost sensitive these days.

This happens when you lose your job. From my experience, this is the sequence of events, in this order: You go into shock, you go to sleep, you wake up, you panic, you become aware of the cost of everything, you start comparing prices on items you buy, you start to lament that living life is too expensive.

“Wait—two ply toilet paper is 3 cents more than one ply. Clearly I have got to start stealing t.p. from public restrooms.”

Par for the course when you have no job.

That is why the experience of an unemployed international traveler is absolutely revelatory. You would not believe how ripped off we’re getting—only you’re too employed to notice.

This week, John and I set course for Canada to celebrate his 30th birthday with his family and friends. We went via the cheapest way possible: We got a ride from my brother Owen at 5am to the airport—our flight wasn’t until 8:50, but Owen had to get to work, and we saved $40 by not taking a car. The two hours we sat saved us cash, cause we’re poor.

Next, we flew to Buffalo on a puddle jumper, which of course brought back my fat-kid paranoia that I’d have to weigh in, the way they do it on small planes to make sure it’s balanced. Luckily, there was no scale, so no tears.

Finally, we rented the cheapest car possible, a Ford Focus, in Buffalo, and drove the 3 hours to Toronto. Now we have a rental car for a week, all cheaper than what it would have cost to fly directly to Toronto.

So sure—that’s cheaply done. But here’s where I get angry.

Delta charged us $15 each to check one bag, and an additional $5 each for not checking in online. How can we check-in online when we’re not even in yet?

Remember last year, when gas was really high and airlines started charging for “extra” baggage? Well, now, apparently they’re just charging for baggage.

And you HAVE to check bags now. I travel light enough that I could carry on—but I wear contact lenses, so the saline solution I have to bring can’t be carried on. So no matter what, these a-holes are securing an extra $20 from me, and if I had a second bag it would have been—wait for it—an extra $25 per additional bag.

All because of the cost of gas, which we were paying for since the dawn of air travel—I mean—what is the ticket covering? The seat and the meal they don’t even serve anymore? Who paid for fuel before?

Does it matter that gas prices are down? No. They’re taking advantage of “circumstances” to make greedy, forever-changes. And it got me thinking—when else has this happened?

Ever hear one of those travel commercials, where they talk about awesome deals like, “Fly to London for $1!” then say quickly at the end “Taxes, applicable charges and 9/11 security fee not included.”

Um- isn’t our safety included in the cost? Wasn’t it on 9/10/01? Just because you invoke the phrase “9/11,” are we supposed to just accept that?

And really—what security are we paying for? That disgruntled, fat, bitter TSA guard who makes us take our shoes off and put them in the gray bin? Let me be the one to say it- they’re not going to sneak in a shoe bomb again, so let’s give that one up. These crazy lunatics are one step ahead of us on bombing technology- they’ll probably have their teeth made of bombs. Making my socks despicably filthy isn’t keeping me “safe,” and we all know it.

Why are we paying to be extra secure, when we’re not really any safer, and the fact is they should have been keeping us safe all along? Does the fact that we didn’t drop an extra $50 a ticket before September 11, 2001 justify the fact that they let those hijackers on the plane with box cutters? Stop using my grief and fear to take advantage of me, okay? That’s Rudy Guiliani’s job.

Somewhere in the middle of Buffalo it occurred to me that this is the new reality of travel—and that the same thing has happened with the job market. Employers are taking advantage of the recession and the nation’s economy to cut costs, make less employees do more work for less money and yes, you guessed it, be grateful just to have their jobs, which are precariously placed under the ever swinging axe of budget cuts.

Six months before I was laid off, the brilliant and talented young copywriter who reported to me—we’ll call her Laura—lost her job in the first round of layoffs. I had no idea it was coming, which is strange given that she reported to me, but that’s a topic for another blog. As a result, I had to take on her job—and let me tell you, she did a lot, and she worked hard. It was no small task. I missed her desperately but I never complained- I worked longer hours with a smile on my face, rarely took lunch, and became anxious to prove my worth to my employers and keep my job safe. I was doing two jobs for the price of one, and the refrain in my head was always “Just be glad you still have a job.” Pathetic.

They stopped matching our 401K, our healthcare changed to a plan so crappy that I had a $75 copayment—COPAYMENT—for one of my medicines, and little by little our quality of life at work was tweaked until it was barely livable.

When I was laid off in May, my coworkers took on my sizable workload as well as Laura’s. As a result, they are doing three peoples’ jobs for the price of one. And chances are that during the late hours that they stay at work they wonder if it’s fair-- a thought that's quickly replaced with a reminder that they should smile, play the hand they’ve been dealt without complaint—and be grateful just to have a job.

How much of the recession can really be blamed? How many employers are adopting their business structure to match what the airlines have done? Make the b.s. changes when people are patient and understand that this is “temporary,” then never go back to the way it was.

Do I even want to ever be a copywriter again? To go back into an industry that would take advantage of a crappy situation to, well, profit frankly in the long run—even if it completely decimates my life, despite years of loyalty? If the economy turns around tomorrow, will that magazine ever "fully" staff up again, or will my former coworkers continue to absorb the jobs of the people who lost theirs?

The answer, frankly, is no. I don't want to be a copywriter again- not full time, and not at a magazine. This recession has done nothing except reinforce something I already knew: in corporate America, you’re expected to show incredible loyalty to your job, but when the chips are down it will never be loyal to you. Like the airlines, they'll never travel back to "normal." It is what it is—and it is the way it will always be.