Single and unemployed

Gannett -- more specifically -- The News Journal in Wilmington, Del., laid me off in July.

I'm a 43-year-old, single woman with little means thanks to what I was being paid by Gannett.  And I'm someone with health problems. I recently gave up Cobra because of the cost and stood in line for hours to get Arizona's version of Medicaid.

I'll back this bitterness up a bit:

I used to live in the Monterey-area of California. I loved living there and the friends I made, but  I became unhappy with my job and wanted to move closer to my sister, her family. and most importantly, my elderly father. I asked Gannett to transfer me, if they could, to an to area around Philly so I'd be close enough to help with my ill father. I was told I would go to Cherry Hill, N.J., as a copy editor. I'd also posted my résumé on JournalismJobs.com and ended up with three interviews in N.J., and Pa. But I wanted to stay with Gannett.

So, it was the first quarter of the financial year, and when I got there, I was told the job that I would have at Cherry Hill was eliminated. So Gannett sent me to a couple other interviews in N.J., to The News Journal, and I had separate interviews in Maryland and Pa. I had several job offers and chose The News Journal. It seemed exactly what I was looking for at that point in my career, and I liked the folks there a lot.

I worked for Gannett for nine years. But I was given hell about trying to help take care of my father, and my own health issues.

I worked at The News Journal for eight years. I did what I was asked t do. I rarely missed deadlines. But they wanted me gone. It didn't matter that Daddy was dead and I was busting my ass to learn new skills. They wanted me gone. I guess it's my big mouth at questioning stories and their relevance. Whatever it was, I -- and several other copy editors -- was chosen to be laid off on July 9, 2009.

I lived for a few weeks on unemployment and Gannett's so-called "Transitional Payment Plan."

Yes, the Transitional Payment Plan, or as I started to refer to it as the "Toilet Paper Plan."  In other words, we would receive no severance. What this "plan" did was make  up for the difference in my weekly earnings AFTER my unemployment check. So if I'm getting $355 from unemployment, but I was making $980 a week (gross), than they would send me a check for $625. I had the TPP plan for nine weeks -- for each year I worked for the company. So this also meant that the amount of unemployment (in weeks) was greatly shortened by their brilliant TPP.

Then I knew as those nine weeks ticked away, and I'm still not working, that I'd only be getting that $355 -- and that, luckily because President Obama and Congress subsidized a portion,

So when my Toilet Paper Plan dried up, I started thinking about my pension, and I believed it would give me some security -- I had nothing else but the pension. So I cashed it in. And the unemployment checks stopped. I'd envisioned that I could sock the pension money away, just in case I ran out of unemployment and still didn't have a job. I'm not dumb, I know the situation out there. Well, now the pension money is all gone and I started getting unemployment checks again. Oh, I do get Food Stamps now, am on the state's MercyCare healthcare program and I'm going to the Food Bank once a month. This makes it easier to keep my car and pay rent and utilities.

When you're single and get laid off, you don't have the financial and emotional support you need to get through it. It's scary. It's frustrating, and it's embittering. You don't have someone next to you who can tell you, "Well, I still have a job, and things will be tough, but OK."

I moved back to Arizona with my sister and her family in the hopes of a better situation. Things have gotten worse, but for the most part, I'm content. I know that there are people out there worse off than me or in the same position. But so many have spouses who can help carry them, no matter what the financial strain. And I'm glad for those people, because it's so hard when you're alone. And I'm definitely jealous.

I know I'll find work soon. I'm in the land that I love and am connected to. I'm home. But a job sure would make things even better.

And that's my rant on being single and unemployed.