'Walk a mile in my shoes': Long-term unemployed ask 'What will happen to us?'
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Resa Haile searches classified ads and online job sites at the Hedberg Public library several days a week. Even after obtaining an associates degree from Blackhawk Technical College after she was laid off Haile is still struggling to find work.
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Resa Haile has been visiting the Hedberg Public Library several times a week since she was laid off to scan classified ads and look through internet job sites in search of work.
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Since losing her job with LeMans Corporation last November, Ginny Oldenburg has been struggling to keep up with mortgage payments and the needs of her two teenage children, Morgan and Blayne.
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Rich Johnson decided to attend Blackhawk Technical College to work on an associates degree after being laid off from Lear Seating but stopped soon after due to severe back injury and now is struggling because of loss of health insurance as well as unemployment benefits. "I wake up in the morning and I think, 'what direction am I going to go today?' Then other days I think 'I'm taking a break...I'm tired,' " Rich says of searching for opportunities for help with his situation.
JOBLESS IN JANESVILLE SERIES
Sunday: Hundreds of local dislocated workers have reached or are reaching the end of their unemployment benefits. While all have individual stories of survival in tough times, they also have things in common.
Monday: The Janesville area is a difficult place to find work, but is it really among the nation’s worst?
Tuesday: Not all dislocated workers are mired in unemployment. Many have made personal adjustments to find work outside their chosen fields, outside their comfort zones.
JANESVILLE — Rich Johnson has skidded into scary territory, where he fears the worst.
The Janesville man once earned a solid middle-class salary. Then he got laid off and counted on state unemployment benefits as a lifeline.
Now he doesn’t know what to do.
Rich lost his benefits early this year. He lost his health insurance in May. He is rapidly losing faith in the future. He and his wife, Sandy, worry they could lose their home and a comfortable way of life they spent decades building.
The 55-year-old and many others in Rock County have been jobless for more than six months. They are part of a grim statistic that casts a long shadow over the recovering economy.
Never since the Great Depression have so many unemployed been out of work for so long.
Never have so many applied for so few jobs.
Never have so many asked: What will happen to us?
Nationally, the proportion of people jobless for six months or more now makes up 46 percent of the unemployed. That’s the highest percentage on record, dating to 1948.
As the jobless lose or exhaust their 99 weeks of unemployment benefits, they face challenges unlike anything they ever imagined. One single father, who was filing for bankruptcy, said he did not know what he and his family would do next because he had used up most of his resources.
“It is bad,” he muttered. “It is really bad.”
Former breadwinners are going to food pantries, running up credit-card bills and asking extended family members for money for the first times in their lives. They are robbing retirement funds, discovering food stamps and struggling for self-esteem. Some workers believe they will never rebuild the lives they lost but are, instead, learning a new normal based on lower salaries and lower standards of living.
“You’ve worked all your life, and this is what you have to show for it,” says one former Logistic Services Inc. worker, who lives in an apartment with other family members because he could no longer afford his house.
Rich, a former Lear employee, talks publicly about his tenuous situation because he knows he is not alone. Some 8,700 people—about 3,700 more than the 20-year average—are out of work in Rock County. Hundreds of dislocated workers have reached or are reaching the end of their unemployment benefits. Each has a story of survival in tough times. But they share some things in common: sadness about a way of life that ended with the Great Recession and jitters about the future.
“This isn’t just my story,” Johnson says. “It is the story of my brothers and sisters at Lear. It is the story of so many who lost their jobs. It is the story of what is happening all over in the United States, and something needs to be done.”
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Rich made a good salary at Lear for almost 14 years. He intended to retire from the company, a supplier of interiors and seating systems to the Janesville General Motors plant. But when GM shut down, so did all the companies tied to it. For generations, the automaker and its suppliers created an island of good-paying blue-collar jobs in Janesville. Factory work was almost a birthright, something many young people counted on after high school graduation and for a lifetime.
“I’ve worked in factories my whole life,” Rich says. “I’ve never been good at school.”
But when he got laid off, he did what seemed to be the best option. He attended Blackhawk Technical College under a federal dislocated-workers program and got reduced-cost health care. Rich enrolled in a two-year course to learn refrigeration and air conditioning.
“We managed to survive on unemployment,” he says.
Then a health problem brought everything to a halt.
“It’s been a downhill slide ever since,” Rich says.
He had back surgery between semesters. His doctor told him he could return to school in January if he was careful. But in one of his hands-on labs, he felt something pull in his back.
“The doctor said no more school until I get better,” Rich says.
He lost his unemployment checks. He lost his affordable health insurance. And his doctor says he needs more surgery.
Meanwhile, Sandy works part-time doing data entry. Her last two-week paycheck had fewer than 40 hours. She worries the hours will continue to dwindle. Sandy has been looking for more stable employment, “but jobs are not easy to come by,” she says, especially for people in their 50s and 60s who experience age discrimination.
Rich and Sandy are sitting around the kitchen table in their Harmony Township home, which they bought when times were good.
“I don’t want to lose my house,” Rich says. “We live in a nice neighborhood. I love my neighbors. I’ve worked 39 years and paid taxes. I’m not looking for pity. I just don’t know what my future holds.”
He glances at Sandy, who is looking down.
“We’ve been living since January on my wife’s income,” he continues. “I’m in therapy. I’m on antidepressants. It seems like I have a dark cloud over my head. I don’t know where to go or what to do. My worst fear is to be unable to provide a roof for my wife.”
He once dreamed of a retirement where he and Sandy could travel and relax. Now, he doesn’t know how much longer he and Sandy can pay the bills.
“I’ve been told by family members that I am angry and not fun to be around … but walk a mile in my shoes. I love my wife. I don’t like to see her in pain.”
He says he and his friends at Lear were blindsided.
“We all thought we would retire from the company,” he explains. “Instead, when I got laid off, we never got a handshake or a thank you or nothing. It was a day just like any other day when I walked out. I didn’t say anything for fear of breaking down.
“Believe me, there have been many days like it since. My neighbor lady says she prays for me and says that things will turn around.
“But I ask, ‘When?’”
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Ginny Oldenburg is scared about the future.
The single mom with three kids got laid off from Janesville’s LeMans Corp. in November 2009. Two teen-age children live with her. She does not get child support.
“Where is the money going to come from?” she asks.
She worries what will happen when her unemployment check runs out. She uses her credit card to help pay expenses and watches helplessly as the total grows with interest. She does not always have enough money for groceries.
Ginny tries not to go to food pantries because she thinks there are others who need the food more than she does.
“There are people on the street,” she says. “I’m not on the street.”
The family keeps the grocery bill down by eating grilled-cheese sandwiches or macaroni and cheese for some meals. Ginny also has qualified for a few dollars in food stamps.
She apologizes for the hole in the living room ceiling. The plumbing above it leaked in February, but she has no money to fix it. Her basement foundation leaks, but she has no money to fix that, either. She doesn’t sleep at night because her mind won’t shut off about how she is going to pay the bills. She has panic attacks about finances.
“I’m one who has always paid my bills in full,” Ginny explains. “My biggest fear is the mortgage. I pay it first, no matter what. I’m not going to go homeless.”
She took a seasonal job in winter, but it ended in February. She has another seasonal job lined up in the fall.
In a leap of faith, the 48-year-old signed up for classes at Concordia University, which has a branch in Beloit. She has been out of high school 31 years and out of technical college for 23 years. She says education funds for displaced workers have run dry, but she hopes more will be available in the future. Her financial aid package includes more than $7,000 in loans to study health-care management during summer classes.
“It has to be worth it,” she says. “I don’t have a choice. I can’t get a job. And there are no guarantees I will get a job when I finish this two-year program.”
Ginny wants to teach her children it is never too late to improve yourself.
“I want to get respect from my kids,” she says. “They mean everything to me.”
She and her family have health insurance through the state’s Badger Care.
Ginny says she does not feel like a failure in this troubled economy.
“There are too many of us who don’t have jobs,” she says.
“I take it one hour at a time.”
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Resa Haile knows the daily routine like she knows the fear in her heart.
Wake up in the morning.
Walk or take the bus to the library.
Hope that today brings more than promises of work.
The 49-year-old Janesville woman searches dozens of websites daily for employment. She applies online and in person. After more than a year, she hangs onto hope.
Resa never thought she would find herself pounding the pavement in middle age. She worked for a Janesville manufacturer for 12 years. Then just before Christmas 2006, her boss called her into his office with bad news.
Resa did not know it at the time, but her layoff preceded thousands of others in Janesville.
“I was a little ahead of the curve,” she says. “It was clear to me that manufacturing wasn’t going to be the way of the future.”
She enrolled at Blackhawk Technical College in a two-year program to earn a medical-administrative degree. She got money for retraining through federal legislation. A year ago, she graduated with honors and found herself looking for a job in the worst economic downturn the nation has seen since the Great Depression.
“That was bad timing on my part,” she says, trying to be light-hearted but quietly wiping away tears. “I thought the economy would get better by the time I got out of school.”
If you ask Resa how many jobs she has applied for, she shakes her head.
“Hundreds online,” she says. “I also walk into places and apply. Sometimes I walk in cold and apply. I recently applied at one place and heard that a thousand people had applied.”
The single woman owns a house and has been late with mortgage payments. If she does not find work soon, she fears she is in danger of losing her home.
Resa stopped driving a long time ago because she has no money for auto upkeep. She got rid of her credit card because she knows she cannot pay it. She has a food stamps card and used it for the first time when she had no money for groceries.
“I was so grateful to have it,” she says.
Resa is familiar with ECHO and its food pantry. Visiting the church-sponsored charity was another new experience during her long unemployment.
“I was surprised at how many others were there,” she says.
Resa ekes by on her unemployment checks and does not know when they will run out. In the past, she dipped into her 401(k) retirement fund to pay bills. She thinks she will have to do that again.
She cannot worry if there will be anything left for retirement. She has to provide for today.
When she got laid off, she didn’t know what would happen to her.
“I’m still in the same place today,” Resa says.
“I don’t know what will happen to me.”
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Emery and Alice Eastlick dreamed about starting their own business. So in December 2007, the young couple opened Faith and Destiny Christian Store in Janesville. It featured Christian books, gifts and cards, a coffee shop and occasional live music.
“We were passionate about it,” 28-year-old Emery says. “We were excited. During the first two to three months, we really did well. Then, we sensed something was changing.”
By 2008, people who once spent $20 in the store were spending less than $5.
“They were looking at bookmarks instead of books for gifts,” Emery says. “When a lot of people change their spending habits, things get tight.”
In 2009, customers were spending even less.
“We had to do what was best for our family,” Alice explains.
They closed the unprofitable store early this year, with the innocent thought that they could find new jobs right away.
Since February, Emery has applied for all kinds of work in factories to restaurants to office-supply stores. He had made 100 applications by the end of April without any luck. Recently, he got hired part-time delivering pizzas.
“We are so thankful to have something,” Alice says. “It’s a good feeling to know we will have some income coming in.”
Emery and Alice have two young daughters, ages 5 and 7.
Most self-employed people cannot collect unemployment compensation, so they never had that lifeline.
Alice has an education degree from UW-Whitewater and home schools their children.
“Our faith gives us strength and hope that life will turn around,” she says.
Family and friends bless them with groceries and clothing. They connect with charities to supplement their food supply.
“Hopefully, people who are struggling like us know there are places like ECHO available,” Emery says. “There are lots of people in the same boat. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. When you need help, you need help.”
So far, they have kept up with their mortgage. Last month, family members helped them with the payment. They don’t shop for anything other than food and toiletries. They try to remember how good it is to have time together as a family.
The Eastlicks plan to open another store when the economy improves. They want their new store to give back a portion of its earnings to the community to help others going through hard times, just like they are now.
“I believe with my whole heart we will have a new store and it will help those who are less fortunate,” Emery says.
Alice adds:
“Things can only go up from here.”
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Aaron and Kim Nightengale are learning to live on less. Both are working, but 41-year-old Aaron has taken a job that pays two-thirds of his old factory work. Aaron got laid off from Lear in July 2008. He says he was earning $21.60 per hour.
“I loved it,” he says. “I worked 10-hour days, four days a week. It was only a few minutes from home.”
Today, Aaron makes hotdogs at Kraft Foods Global, Oscar Mayer Division, in Madison and has been working there more than a year.
“I hate it,” he says. “I can’t stand it. But I have to do it.”
He earns $13.95 per hour and drives 45-minutes one way to work.
The Nightengales have six children. Three still are dependents. They live in a modest home behind the GM plant, a huge reminder of better times in Janesville. They are working with their mortgage company to reduce their monthly payments.
The Nightengales, like other workers earning less, are adjusting to a new normal.
“If we can’t save up for something, we don’t buy it,” Aaron says. “If I can’t make it or get it for free, we don’t need it. When I worked at Lear, we could take the kids to a water park or out to eat. Now, we have to plan well in advance.”
Ever since leaving the Army in 1993, Aaron has done production work.
“Unless we want to move out of state, this is what we are stuck with,” Aaron says. “But the conversation about moving has never come up. Our families are here. This is where we want to be.”
Kim works at a Janesville pharmacy but doesn’t always get 40 hours a week.
They depend on ECHO to supplement their groceries.
“We have learned to live with the fact that we don’t have the money we used to have,” Aaron says.
“It’s not as good as it used to be. But it’s not as bad as some have it.”
