Former construction supervisor is a casualty of the housing bubble

Before the bottom dropped out of the housing market, Bernie Doyle was working hard and riding high.

A construction supervisor on high-end apartment projects in San Diego, he worked 12-hour days and was constantly under the gun. But the rewards were worth it. He made nearly $90,000 a year, enough to buy a 26-foot boat that he and his wife, Suz'Ette, took out nearly every weekend. And he had a sense of pride each time he finished a job on schedule.

"They'll slap me on a job and it's nothing but bare dirt. By the time I leave, the thing is built," said Doyle, his voice still tinged with a New England accent. "I love it. I live it. I like the pressure. I like dealing with people. I like getting the job done on time."

Laid off last summer, Doyle at first figured he'd be called back within a couple of months. But the hangover from the nation's housing binge is likely to last for years. He figures he has applied for more than 100 jobs, lowering his sights and salary demands drastically. He has sought work as a handyman for an apartment building and as a Home Depot salesman. Nothing.

"I've had two interviews," he said. "I didn't get either one."

The bad news keeps coming. Doyle owes back child support to the mother of his teenage son in Colorado. Authorities from that state recently used a court order to drain Doyle's bank accounts. He said he owes more than $2,000 in back taxes to the Internal Revenue Service. He's run up more than $5,000 in credit card debt.

To avoid collection efforts, he uses a check-cashing store to cash his unemployment checks.

Recently, the pressure of mounting debt and unemployment nearly became more than he could handle. He turned off his telephone for three days, stopped checking his e-mail and went into isolation — until a San Diego police officer knocked on the door to make sure he was OK. A concerned friend had called authorities.

"You get tired of getting kicked in the head," Doyle said.

He's since turned the telephone back on but remains discouraged. He's now smoking two packs of cigarettes a day. And the boat he and Suz'Ette used to cruise every weekend is now up for sale. He can no longer afford the payments.

Doyle said his wife has been an unfailing source of support. Her income as a medical-office receptionist has kept the couple afloat financially; her encouragement and love motivates him.

"She tells me, 'Don't give up. You're going to find something,' " Doyle said. "She doesn't sit there and rag on me. She knows I'm trying."

He also visits the offices of a friend's construction company most mornings. Even though there's no work to be had, the visits provide a daily routine.

"I never thought I'd be in a spot like I am now, not in a million years," Doyle said. "I guess a lot of other people feel like that too."

stuart.pfeifer@latimes.com