a day in the life of unemployment.

The alarm went off at 5:30 same as it had every day for the last four and a half years. Dan rolls away from his wife and slaps it off. His wife shifts and murmurs, “Mmmmm, good day at the office honey.” Dan showers, shaves, and puts on a five thousand dollar suit. He is out the door by six.
He drives an hour out of town to a roadside diner. Over a breakfast of an egg white and tomato omelet and a pot of coffee he browses the wanted adds. There seemed to be less in them every day. He finds himself circling jobs offering less than a tenth of what he used to make. The coffee was eating a hole in his stomach. He steps outside to have a cigarette. Six months unemployed, two college funds eliminated, one luxury ski trip taken, one BMW purchased, one wife and two children kept from knowing anything was wrong. He smokes quick, strong drags helping his chest loosen instead of tighten. He finishes one and lights another. Pulls out his cell phone and looks at his brother’s number as he does every day. Looks at it, shakes his head and puts the phone away.
The afternoon is spent cold calling. Begging. Chain smoking.
At three he looks at his watch, shakes his head and gets in the car. You tried, he tells him self, his stomach sick. He feels like he is going to throw up. The world seems far away and unreal. He looks at the buildings as he drive by. Forty two miles of road back into the city. Thirty five steps from where he parks his car to the front door of the bar. Six dollars for the first gin and tonic. Two drinks until he can acknowledge the bartender. Three drinks until he smiles and lets out a deep breath.
“Hi honey.”
He winks at the bar tender.
“I have to pull another late one.”
He takes another sip of his drink
“I know, I wish I could be.”
“I miss them, but there’s nothing I can do.”
“Yup, we should be wrapping the project in a few.”
“Tell them I love them, I love you too, don’t wait up.”