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Some people have worked hard and fulfilled their goal of earning a college degree or mastering special skills, but life hasn't rewarded them.
Maybe they landed their dream job but lost it in a company cutback. Maybe they graduated and got part-time work but haven't found a full-time position. Or maybe they voluntarily left a good job to move closer to family and haven't been able to find another like it.
They are the underemployed.
They followed the so-called rules to success but have often ended up working harder for less. Nothing about this life is the easy way. Since the recession began in December 2007, many reports have focused on the unemployed. But tens of thousands in this region alone are underemployed.
Northeast Indiana is home to about 380,000 civilian workers, according to Kathleen Randolph, president and chief executive of WorkOne Northeast.
Of those, about 45,500 workers are considered underemployed "because they appear to possess the skills, experience and education to qualify them for the pay rates at which they would take a new job," she wrote in an e-mail. That's roughly equal to all the men, women and children living in Noble County.
These aren't people stuck in dead-end jobs dreaming of getting rich quick. Randolph considers the desired pay rates for these underemployed workers "reasonable" when compared with their experience and existing pay.
The median desired pay is $16.17 an hour. The median existing pay is $15.15 an hour.
But these statistics were gathered last fall. The economy has taken a sharp downturn since then, Randolph said. The only thing she's sure of is that the number of underemployed is now probably considerably larger than 45,500.
Here are some of their stories.
Ruth Otero wanted a better life. So she did what everyone says to do: She went to college.
Otero, who has 15 years of experience working at a computer help desk, thought a degree would be her ticket to a good job in computer technology. But it hasn't worked out that way.
The 51-year-old Fort Wayne native graduated from North Side High School in 1976. After kicking around for a while in jobs that included training standardbred race horses, working in a doughnut shop and cleaning hotel rooms, Otero went to work for Systems and Computer Technology. The private firm was contracted to perform data processing for the city and county.
Like many people with computer skills, Otero found numerous career opportunities. She left for a computer operator position at Lutheran Health Network, where she was promoted to network administrator after six months.
After 2 1/2 years, she was recruited to work for a Verizon Communications contractor. The offer of $17 an hour was $3 an hour more than she was making. And the contractor dangled the idea of future employment directly with Verizon. It was too good to pass up.
Life was good. During that period, Otero went back to school.
But Otero never transitioned directly onto Verizon's payroll. Her position was cut April 1, 2001, when the contract was scaled back. She was unemployed, so she doubled her focus on her classes and earned an associate degree in computer networking in September 2002 from ITT Technical Institute.
But the college degree that was supposed to open doors wasn't her key to landing a new job. Assuming she needed a four-year degree, Otero turned to ITT Tech again and earned a bachelor's degree in business in June 2004.
After looking extensively for a job in computer technology - and being out of work for a year and a half - she finally turned to retail.
Otero works full time as a department head at the Southtown Centre Wal-Mart, where she is in charge of candy and other items displayed near the registers. She started as a cashier at the Apple Glen store in 2003, when she was finishing her degree.
"I don't want to say anything bad about Wal-Mart," she said. "They hired me when no one else would."
The work isn't easy, however. Retail jobs can be physically demanding, even when the items you're stocking are packs of gum and rolls of mints.
"My feet get tired, and my legs get tired," she said. "I live on ibuprofen."
But a job's a job. In fact, Otero has revised her career goals. Now she hopes to enter Wal-Mart's assistant manager training program.
Last year, Otero earned about $20,000. She's heard rumors that assistant managers can make $35,000 to $40,000 a year. Rick Bender, her manager, said the scale depends on how much competitors are offering in the region. He declined to disclose a number.
Otero, who has $50,000 in outstanding college loans, needs more money to pay down debt. Her paycheck, combined with her part-time income from driving a horse and carriage for Sentimental Journey and what her husband, Orlando, makes as a systems analyst at Neff Engineering Co., allows them just to get by.
"It's a struggle," she said. "We're able to pay the normal bills and go out once in a while. But as for paying back the student loans, there's no way."
If Otero has regret, it's that she took on the debt.
"It did me no good whatsoever to go to school and spend all that money on college," she said. "People still say, 'Oh, you need to go to school.' But why? … I would tell somebody, 'Find a place to work, like Wal-Mart, and work your way up.' "
Philip Werner never imagined he'd go so long without full-time work.
The 56-year-old Warsaw man lost his job as manager of outsourcing services in June 2006 when Symmetry Medical cut back its workforce. Since then, Werner has submitted "hundreds" of résumés for jobs in purchasing, materials and supply-chain management.
He holds a bachelor's in business management in 1989 from Purdue University and a master's of business administration in 2004 from Indiana Wesleyan University. He also graduated in 2002 from the University of Notre Dame's executive management/leadership program.
The Vietnam-era veteran, who earned a Six Sigma green belt in lean-management techniques, has been on a few interviews but hasn't gotten any job offers. And it isn't getting any easier.
"Every time you look in the paper, companies are shutting down, laying off," he said. "So the competition (for jobs) is just more fierce."
While he searches for that next position, Werner teaches principles of management at Ivy Tech Community College's Warsaw campus. His take-home pay is $130 every two weeks. That's not enough to pay off outstanding credit card balances or the $60,000 he owes in college loans for him and his son. It's not even enough to allow Werner and his wife to hire an attorney to file for bankruptcy.
Werner, who previously made $60,000 a year, is rethinking what it means to be a man and a husband to Bonnie, a bank teller.
"The real pressure has been on my wife," he said. "I don't know how she does it, but she gets the rent paid."
The couple pay rent these days on "a two-bedroom, dinky apartment" because they had to give up their 2,500-square-foot, two-story house. They couldn't afford the payments and didn't walk away with any money after the quick sale.
"I went through all my savings trying to hang on to our house," he said.
Werner fights self-pity by reminding himself that many others have it worse. But some situations put a lump in his throat. Like when his grandkids visited from North Carolina and one said how much he misses the old house.
"I don't even like to look at pictures of the old house anymore," he said. "My other grandson keeps trying to give me his spare change to buy a new house."
Kristin Kramer walked away from a full-time teaching job but doesn't regret her decision.
The 35-year-old just wishes she could bounce back from the emotionally - and financially - draining months that followed.
The Fort Wayne native traded a position at a school system outside Indianapolis three years ago to move closer to home. She spent a year teaching full time in Albion but then accepted a part-time job with Southwest Allen County Schools so she could move even closer to her ailing grandmother.
Kramer, who is single, accepted the contract elementary art teaching position so she could drive her grandmother to doctors' appointments. For that reason, she welcomed the flexibility of part-time work.
But things have changed. Kramer's grandmother died in April. And the school system cut back her hours by about 25 percent from last school year to this one, even though the job requires her to block out the entire school day to teach classes at various times in five elementary schools.
She teaches four classes on some days, three classes the other days. She's paid for each 40-minute block of class time but not the time spent waiting in between. But one of the perks of working for Southwest Allen County Schools is being allowed to sign up for medical, dental, vision and life insurance.
The Fort Wayne native supplements her teaching pay by working nights and weekends - 12 to 20 hours each week - at a local Hallmark store. Her total annual income is about $25,000. She knows many people live on less, but she's feeling a strain from watching her spending so carefully.
"Sometimes I feel like I work like a dog. By the same token, I'm lucky to have the opportunity to work like a dog," she said.
Kramer relishes small indulgences: listening to music, reading a good non-fiction book and spoiling her Scottish terrier, Malcolm, with an occasional doggie dessert.
In addition to rent and other living expenses, Kramer is paying for two graduate-school classes she needs to keep her teaching license up-to-date. Her ideal job would be as a full-time art teacher with her own classroom.
"I just don't know at this point how realistic that may be," she said, citing widespread cutbacks in arts education funding. "I love what I do. I love it! And it devastates me to think: What's going to happen?"
So she's considering a career change.
"Sometimes people don't see me as a set of skills. They see me as a label, a 'teacher,' " she said. "Just because someone is a teacher doesn't mean that's the only thing they can do, that's the only thing they're willing to do."
Kramer could see herself as an activities director at a senior center or another job with an art component that allows her to work with people. Her hectic teaching schedule has forced her to sharpen her organization and collaboration skills. She said she needs patience and a sense of humor to pull it off.
Her résumé includes an associate degree in commercial art from Indiana University-Purdue University Fort Wayne and a bachelor's in art education from Indiana University in Bloomington in 1998.
She's considered getting another degree but wonders whether having another education degree would bring debt without improving her employment prospects.
Kramer's eyes filled with tears as she remembered saying goodbye to her grandmother.
"Some of her final words to me were, 'Be a good girl, and help people,' " Kramer said, adding that in her lowest moments, those words help her get by.
"Something will work," she said of her job-search efforts.
Corbin Stalf is good with his hands. The 18-year-old Homestead High School graduate just can't find a steady job using them.
Stalf knows cars: how to replace the brakes, change the oil, align the wheels and overhaul the engine. He supplemented his classroom education with two years of auto mechanics classes at Anthis Career Center.
The program allows students to get on-site work experience with local employers.
Stalf, who also learned about auto and diesel engines from his uncles, honed his skills for about eight months at Preferred Auto on Illinois Road. He left the used-car dealer late last summer for a maintenance job with Schueck Steel Co., a contractor working for Steel Dynamics Inc.
His parents approved of what seemed like a smart career move, a chance to get a foothold at Little Rock, Ark.-based Schueck, a division of Lexicon Inc.
But Steel Dynamics, which has suffered with the rest of the steel industry, cut back on the contract, and Stalf lost his job in November after only three months. His gamble didn't pay off.
Rob Stalf, Corbin's father, feels discouraged for his son and other high school graduates who don't have the desire to spend four years in college.
"The opportunity's just not there for the general labor people," the elder Stalf said.
Corbin Stalf is drawing unemployment while he does a few odd jobs on the side - a minor auto repair here, a roofing job there.
"I wouldn't consider it really income. It's nothing steady," his father said.
Any cash that does come goes toward paying the loan on Stalf's 1996 Cavalier, which has 236,000 miles on it, and his 2001 Honda CBR 929 motorcycle.
The Fort Wayne man has submitted more than 30 applications to businesses that sell auto parts, remove trees, lay carpet and install insulation. Nothing.
This idle time doesn't sit well with Stalf, who has worked since he was 15. Losing his job with Schueck was the first time he's left a job without having the next one lined up.
But Stalf feels lucky. He's glad he never moved out of his parents' house. And he's grateful they're not pushing him or charging rent. When he's feeling stir-crazy, he can lift weights at a health club for free, using his parents' membership.
Stalf still observes a midnight curfew, considering it part of the "rules and boundaries" necessary for a happy household.
And he keeps hoping for better days.
"I try to stay optimistic, for the most part," he said. "I can't change the economy by myself, so I just have to go along for the ride."
