Downsized

Working in the auto industry used to mean good money and relative stability. When I met my husband he was an engineer at Ford, but there were so many opportunities at small automotive suppliers, soon after we were married he took a job for a lot more money and fewer hours. Switching jobs was a no-brainer.

That particular job lasted not quite two years before another opportunity arose. This time, his former boss at Ford called, encouraging him to apply for a job that would take us to Australia. Our son was about four months at the time, so the only hesitation was taking him away from family for three years. We quickly decided that it was only a few years, and after his interview (on the golf course, of course) and offer letter, we packed and sold our house and were gone within two months.

Our overseas adventure lasted about two years before his company moved us back to work on a big program here in the states. That was great for us—back close to family, now with two young kids. But the new project came with the long commute, long hours, and added stress. So when another former co-worker called to let him know about a job opportunity at a company closer to home, he again submitted his resume and switched jobs within weeks.

This type of job switching was common in the industry. People with the right skills and connections were contacted by friends and head-hunters, and salaries increased with every call. My husband dislikes changing jobs, and never thought his resume would be so peppered, but it's hard to pass up lucrative jobs.

But what started as opportunity ended up survival, as he would attempt to find new employment as his current company appeared in trouble. Since his days at Ford, he has worked for seven suppliers—one was sold, and three went out of business. Luckily, he managed to stay ahead of the trouble, and managed to leave if his company appeared to be in trouble. But the days of easy jobs and good money were quickly going away.

It finally caught up to him last summer. After a year of downsizing, my husband’s company announced it was following too many others and was closing its doors. No severance. No vacation pay. Nothing. The banks came in to tie up loose ends and kept a few people to help for about two weeks, but then it was over. Three years ago I wouldn’t have worried a bit, because my husband would have lined up another job by the time they locked the doors, but last summer it was an entirely different environment. With the market flooded with downsized skilled workers and nobody hiring, it didn’t look good.

Thankfully, my husband is one of the hardest workers I know. I knew that even if he didn’t get a great auto-related job, he would do anything to take care of his family. We follow Dave Ramsey’s principles, so we didn’t have to worry about debt or how we would make payments. Our emergency fund was in place, so we didn’t feel the stress I know many of our friends in the same situation faced. Plus, we had my parents living in our basement to help care for the kids and give us a little extra income. I was worried, of course, but we were as prepared as we could be.

Our job search was aggressive. I searched the internet for jobs for both of us. My husband insisted he would not find a job that way—his only opportunity would come from his personal contacts—but that didn’t stop me from sending his resume to any posting I found that looked remotely promising. I did end up finding a job for myself in Abu Dhabi, but that’s another story.

It took six weeks for my husband to start a new job. He was right about the internet thing—of the maybe 50 resumes and carefully crafted cover letters I sent out on his behalf, he did not get one call. Instead, his networking and reputation landed him a job with a company based in Grand Rapids, and he now works out of the house. No more daily long commutes. We got him fuzzy slippers for Christmas, for his “commute” to work.

I learned through all of this that we can try to plan our futures, but really we don’t know what the future holds. All we can do is try to plan for the "Unexpected." Get a nice pair of fuzzy slippers, just in case.