Local man is 54 and cooking up a new career

If the man in the chef's coat serving up lunch at South Seattle Community College seems a little impatient, it's nothing personal. He's just itching to get out of this place.

Dan Shames had a good ride as a culinary student here. A great one, actually. Learned a ton. Mastered a bunch of new skills, things he never dreamed he'd be doing four years ago.

Shames spent 32 years making jewelry; rocks were his childhood obsession. Ever see the way light scatters through a sapphire? Now that's beauty.

But in 2006, business crumbled and Shames became an out-of-work married father of two with a mortgage on a home in the Seward Park neighborhood. He'd just hit his 50s.

A career change wasn't part the plan.

But here he is, at 54, ready to graduate next month with a culinary degree. He found a new job, which started last week. Time is moving. And finally, so is he.

Shames (pronounced Shah-muss) managed to climb out of unemployment and remake his career. His pride took some hits along the way.

People his age have a tough time. National data show that workers 55 and older stay unemployed longer than average. Such figures, Shames said, didn't deter him.

"I just knew if I kept at it and kept at it, I'd find something again that I loved doing."

Four years ago, Shames faced the unavoidable: His high-end jewelry design store on Fourth Avenue was not going to make it.

Diamonds were going online. More and more, consumers didn't particularly care about personal service, or want an experienced hand guiding them through a luxury purchase. They looked only at price points, Shames said. The marketplace had changed.

So he closed up shop. He, his wife, and two daughters grieved it like a death.

But Shames wasn't panicked — yet. He'd lined up a sales gig with a national jeweler, and worked behind the counter for a year and a half, thinking it would lead to a spot on the design team.

It didn't. And the company let him go. He took another job with a jeweler, but that chain went bankrupt.

Shames joined millions of other Americans staring into the abyss of unemployment. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics show 14.6 million people were jobless last month. Shames decided he couldn't go back to being a jeweler. That chapter was over, which killed him in a way. Crafting gemstones was his art. But it was early 2008, and a recession was brewing. Friends in the business were packing up, too.

He needed a new passion. But what?

Keeping busy helped muffle the fear and anxiety. His wife, Susan, worked as an accountant, so Shames took care of the dogs, kept the house clean, and shuttled his kids back and forth to school. He became known as "The Carpool Guy."

Meanwhile, he collected unemployment checks and searched for jobs.

In between, he cooked.

Stir-frys, stuffed chicken, burgers. Shames had always been the family chef. But now he experimented. He'd think: "What can I do to make it exciting? What can I do to make it different?"

He tossed together tofu dishes for his younger daughter, Sarina, who ate fish but not other meat. He noticed his joy whenever the food disappeared. It reminded him of a bride's face after seeing her wedding ring for the first time.

But money problems loomed. Unemployment benefits wouldn't last forever. Savings were "being sucked dry." His confidence started to tank.

Strangely, that's when a door opened: Because of the family's financial troubles, Shames qualified for government grants to go back to school.

Toward the end of 2008, after a year of being unemployed, Shames called a family meeting. He was going to culinary school, he said. Everyone was thrilled.

"He was very bored at home," said his daughter, Jenna, 19, in their living room. "Sometimes, he'd be sitting on the couch half asleep — "

" — and he'd stare into space for, like, half an hour," said Sarina, 14. "So we were really happy for him. We always knew deep down he'd be a chef."

Shames reasoned the field seemed recession-proof enough.

"People have to eat, right?" he said.

In January 2009, he enrolled at South Seattle, fired up and ready. Then his wife lost her job. Getting on with his new career was even more urgent.

"What we were trying to do was not to go bankrupt," he said.

Mike Ryan, dean of the culinary school, said Shames stood out for his drive and intensity.

"He had a lot of business experience and a lot of maturity. He knew what it took to do well in school."

There were frustrations, though. Shames joined a lot of people remaking their careers, many of whom were younger and unsure if this was what they wanted to do.

Working alongside teenagers or twentysomethings "slacking off" in class or in the kitchen touched a nerve, Shames said.

"I'd tell them, 'I might sound like your mom or dad, but for you to come in late or drunk or high, you don't know the opportunity you're missing here.' "

The program generally takes two years — but who has two years? Shames said.

He's finishing six months ahead of schedule and will get his degree in June. He just got a job as a line cook at Snoqualmie Casino, and hopes it soon leads to a management position.

"I got my foot in the door," he said. "That's all I needed. When you're unemployed, you go nowhere."

He remembered when life was comfortable, predictable. So much so, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to struggle.

"That first step is so scary," he said. "But if you don't take it, you're on that ledge looking down forever. And I think that's worse."

Sonia Krishnan: 206-515-5546 or skrishnan@seattletimes.com

News researcher David Turim contributed to this report.