Angie,
I read about you in the Times article a few weeks ago, and just read it
again in a frustrated moment at work. I'm also an architect(ish - I'm
testing for my license right now), and am in the midwest, so of course
your story resonated with me. I'm at a firm that was large, and is now
mid-size, and I just wanted to congratulate you on your successful
venture. I was also quite impressed - I clicked back on your early
entries expecting to see some of the frustration and hurt that I know I
feel after each round of cuts....and refreshingly found none. Congrats
again, your work is lovely. I'm keeping my eye out for a home for my
nano.
Best wishes.
I get comments and emails like this often. Some are from people who just lost their job, some are students studying architecture, some are people who seem to be doing exactly what I used to do. I've read reports and talked to people about what is going on where they are and there is no good news for anyone having anything to do with Architecture... at least not until 2018 (check out this ray of sunshine).
I would not be doing what I'm doing if I hadn't lost my job and although the process of getting here is something I've thought about and talked about often, I haven't really talked about it here.
I lost my job at 9 am on a Monday morning. I was the first one to go in a firm of 10 people. I had never been laid off before or been anywhere where someone had been laid off so I didn't really know how it worked. I literally asked my boss, "What do I do now?". She suggested I take a walk around the block to gather my thoughts. It was raining. I didn't go for a walk. I avoided my colleagues by ducking into the bathroom as they filed into the conference room for the Monday morning staff meeting, I made it to my desk, packed up my things and left.
I spent the rest of day in "I'm in a movie" mode. You know what I mean. There's an inner monologue... "this is the last time I'll go down these stairs, I'll never park my car here again, this is a fitting song to be on the radio as I pull away". I told D ("we'll be fine"). I called my mom ("you'll be fine"). I called my colleagues at another firm ("no jobs"). I went home and checked the job board at AIA Minnesota ("no jobs"). I vacuumed and washed dishes.
The next day, my boss left a message on my cell phone saying how disappointed she was that I didn't show up for work the next day and that they had expected me to work during my two weeks severance period. I didn't call her back. Instead I called the HR/Bookeeper for the office who in turn, called my boss and explained to her what 'severance pay' was. Apparently my boss hadn't done this before either.
The following Friday at 2 in the afternoon, D showed up at home. He had been laid off, too.
And so it was. Our household was unemployed. Our friends started losing their jobs. Five more people at the firm where I had worked were laid off. Offices closed their doors and the large firms started the first of multiple rounds of layoffs. The 'Career Opportunities' section on the AIA Minnesota website was flooded with resumes of people who needed jobs. They had to redesign the page into two sections: those looking for work, those with positions to fill. One was full, one was empty.
In a way, it's comforting to know you're not the only one. When it came up in conversation, my colleagues would spew out figures like, "40% of architects in Minnesota are out of a job". It seemed a bit exaggerated but it made us all feel better that we had been axed because of our field; it really had nothing to do with us.
Here at home, D and I did our best to share the space. We bumped into each other in the kitchen in our pajama pants and slippers with cell phones to our ears talking to... who knows.. We hunched over laptops searching for work that didn't exist. People would say, "you BOTH lost your jobs?" but honestly, I don't know what would have been worse: both of us out of work or just one of us out of work. Perhaps the latter would have been easier on the finances but it may have been harder on that careful idea of balance two people come to share.
I started stitching... and knitting... and sewing if for no other reason than I had to do something. I don't really remember how I heard about Etsy but within a few days of finding it, I posted my first items and made my first sale a few days after that. And so it went.... create, post, sell, create, post, sell and I would say, "Wouldn't it be cool if I could do this for real?"
For the most part, everyone was very supportive. There were a few people who had other ideas about what I should be doing with my time. Someone told me I should be trained as a housing inspector because then at least I'd still get to work with homes and homeowners. Someone else told me I should get a job selling floor tile because then at least I'd get to work with architects. When I told an another architect what I was doing and explained that I was happy it still gave me a way to be creative and stay connected to Design, she scoffed and said, "Well, there are parts of architecture profession that are more important than design". I gave her a "hmmm" and wondered what the hell she was talking about.
I kept working and things started happening. I was getting attention and people were excited and buying and all of the sudden this was no longer something I was doing to keep from having nothing to do. I was really enjoying the work... it just hadn't ever occurred to me that I might not be returning to my career.
I found myself going through a kind of grieving period over the loss of the idea of what I was supposed to be. My friends and I had always had this love/hate relationship with what we do... half the time convincing ourselves it was important, the other half admitting it was bullshit. When I was introduced to someone and they’d ask what I do, I didn’t really know what to say anymore. “Oh, I used to almost be an architect, now I just sew all day”. I worried that I would be left behind. I wondered if I decided to go back if a future employer would find more value in someone who created their own business or someone who had become an expert on floor tile.
It was around this time that I met with a local Architect here at my studio. We had gotten together to discuss a new venture that he was starting and some potential side work he might have for me. He had been part of a residential firm and also taught at the University and was starting a project working with builders throughout the region to bring about modest improvements in spec built housing. We sipped espresso and talked about very big things. We talked about the profession and the parts we loved and the parts we loathed. We talked of ways to make architectural design more accessible to the middle class. We talked about how things could be different and ways it could be better. I told him my concerns about stepping away from all of it (especially when we seemed to have just solved all of its problems) and he waved his hands around as if gesturing to the studio and he said, "It's all design. These decisions we make, these things we do. You will be fine".
And I am fine.
I chose to write this partly because of the comment at the top today and partly because I had a meeting today with a committee I've been a part of for three years made up of architects and builders and designers. I asked them all individually about business and how things were going and in general, they have all pared down their staff to the "bare essentials" and are making due with bathroom remodels and sunroom additions. I asked them how they have changed the way they do business... reaching a new market, new services, changing their fees or their process. I was basically told that they are sitting tight as certainly, things will come back.
I am starting to think that perhaps I'm not the one being left behind.
Post Script... I've had a few people read this and wonder if I'm going to stop sewing and go back. (NO!) Nope I'm here to stay in this place I've found for myself. Actually, in a perfect world, I would grab up all these unemployed creatives and set them in a room with me and we'd all sit and make things all day... we'd make bags and lamps and clocks and door hardware and we develop some good looking modular housing and start a free design service for people who can't afford architects... and we'd sip espresso and talk about very big things.
