How to Survive Any Economic Downturn

You’ve probably heard that sad song, the one that goes, “Been down so long, it looks like up to me.” It seems to be the theme for our current economic news.

This theme has a close friend called “The Worst Economic Downturn Since the Great Depression.” I’m skeptical about that line, because I’ve seen worse.

Back in 1980, I was just a year out of college, and I found myself unemployed. The grant that funded my job had run out, and I was living in the state of Michigan. Even then, Michigan was developing a reputation as the Unemployment State. Which meant that if you wanted to find work, you’d best go elsewhere.

Since I had some savings in the bank, I decided to indulge my passion for bicycling before settling back into the job world. I spent a good bit of the following two years exploring the United States by bike.

By June 1982, I’d had my fill of life on the road. Or so I thought. I’d decided to move back to the city where I was born, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. From the old hometown, I’d launch my professional career.

Only problem was Pittsburgh’s economy. The unemployment rate was edging up toward 20%, and jobs of any sort were hard to come by. I quickly grew discouraged and all but gave up looking.

This didn’t go unnoticed. A family friend thought that I was getting so depressed that I needed to see a therapist. And she knew depression when she saw it — she worked as a psychiatric nurse. Only problem was, I didn’t have the money for a therapist.

The turnaround came in a most unexpected way. I’d been renting a room in a house owned by a recently divorced lady, and she kicked me out shortly after Christmas 1982. Her behavior had become increasingly bizarre during the month that I lived with her. I later heard that she started 1983 by having a mental breakdown.

After I left the lady’s house on New Year’s Eve, I moved my stuff into the basement of a church across the street. Then I took the bus Downtown and rented a room in a hostel. The rule was that I could only stay there for three nights.

New Year’s Day in Pittsburgh wasn’t the sort of day with lots of things to do. But the church I’d started attending had an informal communion service, so I went. After the priest gave the final blessing, I took him aside and explained my plight.

Turned out that one of the altar guild ladies had an extra room in her apartment, and if it seemed okay to me, we’d talk business. We went over to her place, and that tiny shoebox of a room looked like heaven to me. I ended up renting that micro-space for a year and a half.

She had two of her other rooms rented to a couple of young women. Neither of them sympathized with my hard luck stories from the job-hunting trail. They didn’t think I was trying hard enough. And they had the audacity to tell me that, at the end of each day, they wouldn’t be letting me back into the apartment unless I could tell them what I’d done to find a job.

Took me less than a week to find one.

Okay, it was a dishwashing job. With part-time hours and minimum wage pay. But, hey, it was a J-O-B.

The restaurant owners, who fancied themselves as big time entrepreneurs, also owned a hardware store and a catering business. But they had a generous side. If there was any leftover food, it was offered to the employees. And I noticed that the manager was quite insistent about seeing that I got some.

After six months, my hours got cut to the point where I had to find another job. Pittsburgh Job #2 was in a food co-op, where I stocked shelves and ran the cash register. Not the most exciting use of my bachelor’s college degree in economics, but the manager had a pretty effective way of putting things in perspective. He had a master’s degree in economics, and managing a food co-op was the only job he could find.

Since it was a small store, we employees were expected to understand all aspects of it. Phrases like “gross margin,” “daily cash report,” and “per unit cost” started creeping into my conversations. Ever so subtly, I was gaining business experience.

My mental state was still down in the basement, and it was during my employ at the co-op that I sought therapy. Since I was without health insurance and a lofty salary, the therapy sessions were free. Although the therapists were well-intentioned, I found that forming a circle of caring friends was much more helpful. I owe my life to those people.

The business experience gained through the co-op paid off when I self-published a book about my bicycling adventures. That little book made some money, and it also proved helpful when I interviewed for a job in the field I really wanted to be in, publishing.

The job was at the University of Pittsburgh, and my main task was to annotate recently published books in academic economics. My biggest challenge was staying awake. My boredom didn’t go unnoticed by the boss, who had come from the Attila the Hun school of management.

Her favorite method for motivating subordinates was the blistering tirade, and I was on the receiving end of quite a few. They proved to be quite motivational. The worse things got at work, the more money I saved from each Pitt paycheck.

The final straw came in early 1987. During one of my boss’s tirades, she told me to start looking for another job. I replied by saying that it was time to start looking for another city.

That took her by surprise. She assured me that I didn’t need to anything that drastic. But my mind was made up. I was tired of things going wrong in Pittsburgh. It was time to leave. I tendered my resignation on Friday, February 13, 1987.

During my last six weeks in Pittsburgh, my coworkers remarked on how relaxed and happy I’d become. It sure was fun to hear those comments. It was even more fun to watch my boss seethe with jealousy. I knew that after I left Pittsburgh, she’d hold no further power over me, and that’s exactly how things worked out.

The first three months of my post-Pittsburgh life were spent on the road. After putting my worldly possessions into storage, I caught a one-way flight to Phoenix, Arizona with my bike. From Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport, I made my way down to the Mexican border and then I headed up to Canada. After exploring the Canadian Rockies and the American Northwest, I put myself and the bike on a plane to Tucson, Arizona. And, 22 years later, I’m still here.

Now, I’ll admit that there are times when I worry about the state of the economy, how it affects my studio, and a whole bunch of other things. But my Pittsburgh experience taught me five valuable lessons, and here they are:

1. If you’re young, fresh out of college, and relatively inexperienced in the work world, you may have to start out at the bottom.

But, even on the bottom, you’ll find generous souls who are more than willing to help you out. Recall that restaurant manager who made sure that I got some leftovers.

And the restaurant owners. Yes, they thought they were real players, but I’ll never forget what they did for one of my coworkers. He was a photography student at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh. The owners asked him to take some advertising photos of the restaurant. I don’t recall if they paid him – the staff consensus was that the photos weren’t very good – but they did give the guy a chance to show his stuff.

2. Even crummy retail jobs provide the opportunity to gain business experience.

As much as I didn’t enjoy my time in the food co-op, I learned things that my college classes never taught me.

In addition to basic business accounting, I learned a lot from the customers. One day, a guy came in and we got to talking about his background. Turned out that he’d worked at a horse racetrack, and he knew how to figure correct change in his head. He taught me how to do that, and I still do it. Comes in handy when I’m in a checkout line. Or doing volunteer work as a cashier.

3. Take advantage of free things.

I was poor and uninsured enough to find no-cost therapy. As mentioned before, I found that forming a circle of caring friends was much more helpful. Far be it from the therapists to be against that. If anything, they were quite enthusiastic about seeing me emerge from my depressive shell.

4. If you have a big mouth like mine, it helps to have a stash of cash saved up.

Having that cash-stash enabled me to walk away from that lousy Pitt job with my head held high. It also financed three wonderful months of bicycling.

5. Don’t give up.

Yes, it’s tempting to do so, but please Don’t. Do. It. You may need to find a couple of work-seeking butt-kickers like my two apartment roommates. And your butt-kickers may not volunteer for the job like mine did. But do find them. You’ll be glad you did.