AARP Hearing Center
It happened right before the holidays this year: My boss slipped an ominous 15-minute meeting onto my calendar and informed me that due to “restructuring,” I was laid off.
The news left me devastated, indignant, but hardly surprised. As a journalist, I’d already been laid off three times over my 30-year career. In my industry, layoffs occur with such ridiculous regularity that we share them like battle scars over drinks, then dust ourselves off and trust that we’ll find a new job soon enough.
But this fourth layoff hit me with a sense of doom I’d never felt before. For one, I was 51, putting me squarely in the dreaded age bracket where horror stories swirled of never-ending job hunts that could drag on well past the six months it would take before my severance and unemployment ran out. I wailed to my husband Jason that night, “I could be out of work for over a year — or years!”
There was a silver lining, though. Knowing that job security in my occupation is essentially nonexistent, I had been preparing for a layoff for years. That means that when this pre-Thanksgiving pink slip appeared, I was armed with a game changer I call my “layoff fund,” a nest egg designed to keep me afloat until I find a new job — no matter how long it takes.
Why a layoff fund is a smart safeguard for older workers
Although I’ve diligently squirreled away money in retirement funds, house funds and college funds over the years, I believe my layoff fund is my wisest financial decision to date. The trick to building the fund was simple: Even when I had a job, I acted as though I were unemployed.
With three layoffs already under my belt, I’d had plenty of practice reining in my spending when paychecks dried up. So had Jason, who’s also a writer and no stranger to long work droughts.
Our lowest point was when our daughter was born, and we were both unemployed for two agonizing years. Living in New York City, where expenses were high, we were forced to strip our budget down to the bare necessities. We cut out restaurants, gym memberships, vacations, movies and even hair salons, consulting YouTube for trimming tutorials with dubious results. We gathered all our baby gear off Craigslist for cheap or free, washing and disinfecting it, and then keeping our fingers crossed that it didn’t have bedbugs or other hidden surprises. Our only splurge, if you could call it that, was a couples therapist who, out of pity, agreed to see us for $50 under the table so we didn’t kill each other under the stress of our financial duress.
You Might Also Like
Can This Couple Find Familial Bliss Across the Country?
A move from Massachusetts to California is a bit of a bumpy roadA Little Voyeurism, a Lot of Adventure — My Side Gig Is Kind of Addictive
My DoorDash job takes me places I’ve never been before — and I’m loving the thrill25 Tips to Manage Your Stress
From scheduling stress and serenity to eating away the inflammation, here are ways to cope