Ron Brodeur admits that trying to get a laugh out of someone who has just been laid off from a job he has had for 30 years might seem an unusual way to gauge resilience and the capacity for hope. But as the Maine Labor Department’s assistant rapid response coordinator, a team leader responsible for arranging the unemployment benefits and retraining possibilities of dislocated workers, Brodeur said he has learned a lot from those moments of jocularity in situations otherwise filled with anxiety.

“If I could make them laugh in those first few minutes, then I’d know they’d be able to go on with their lives,” he said. “I’d know they could make it.”

After eight years of stepping into dozens of job-related crises around the state, helping thousands of Maine people to rebound from the trauma of suddenly being out of work and having to rethink their futures, Brodeur has decided that it’s time to rethink his own.

“This job can wear on you,” said Brodeur, who retired this week. “No matter how dedicated you are, dealing with people who have lost their jobs can be very emotional for everyone. It does take its toll.”

At 57, he doesn’t know what he’ll do next. But for now, having wrapped up his responsibilities to hundreds of laid-off papermakers in the Millinocket region, he’ll welcome the chance to sleep at night without a head full of despairing stories crowding his thoughts. “It’s a big responsibility, which makes it hard to let go of at night,” he said.

Brodeur, a native of Fall River, Mass., who now lives in Augusta, spent 30 years as an Air Force helicopter mechanic. When he was physically unable to do that work anymore, he left the military and attended the University of Maine at Augusta, where he studied social sciences. Just a month after beginning his first job as a state career counselor in 1995, the Statler Tissue Co. in Augusta folded, leaving 550 people without work. As they streamed into the local career center, reeling from the blow and unsure how to proceed with their lives, Brodeur learned quickly about the complexities of personal upheaval. “It’s hard to shake off the company you’ve been loyal to for 30 or 40 years,” he said. “They have to recognize that a change has occurred in their lives, a significant one that everybody views differently. Most of them who lose jobs will feel that they’ve lost a close relative. It’s the same feeling of depression.”

As a result, he said, a swift response to that desperate climate is critical. The effort begins with the first word that a plant may shutdown or a mill may close. Sometimes just the rumor that a troubled company is considering layoffs, Brodeur said, can set the process in motion. The rapid response teams move into town and set up shop as soon as possible. “We invite the workers in, and talk to them about unemployment benefits first,” he said. “They all want to know how to file, how much they’ll get, how long it will last.”

He then talks to them about the state’s CareerCenter programs that might help them to find jobs similar to the ones they’ve lost or to train them for entirely new kinds of work. And throughout the process, Brodeur’s life has often become entwined in the lives of those workers he has tried to help.

“In the Millinocket area, they’re all wondering what’s out there for them right now,” he said. “Will they have to pick up and move? Where will they go? And I know there are a lot of people who think Great Northern will be what it used to be, that it will be bought and they’ll be working again. They’ll believe that until it’s proved otherwise, I guess. But I know from experience that most of them will move on. They’re going to survive, even if they don’t believe that right now.”