Double Dipping Gold

I just hit the jackpot of school/work balance. The topic for class this week - motivation. The assignment - assess your company's reward and recognition program. One of my deliverables at work (that keeps getting pushed down on the priority list, incidentally) - revamp the project's internal reward and recognition program. This is when the chi gets good - when you can not only instantly apply theories (which I have been - I listen real good now) but put them into a practice that satisfies both your work work and your school work. To quote Jim Brewer, former SNL "Goat Boy" and current Pizza Hut product whore: "Jackpot!" Seriously, have you seen those commercials? They are nonsensical and disturbingly over-enthused. I imagine Jim's agent calling him, relieved that finally, finally, he would be on TV again. How they passed test audiences, let alone aired more than once, is a mystery to me.

Anyway, this "jackpot's" arrival came just in time - this weekend I started to feel the pinch of going to school, working and maintaining a normal life. Well, actually, it was less of a pinch and more of a anxiety-induced sweat rash catalyzed by sitting in a four-hour video taped management simulation taking place in a building that is not air-conditioned on Sundays trying to sort through an "inbox" of problems while prepping a speech to be graded by peers and formulating an informed point on potential CEO resumes when you realize that you are missing the Bears game and you are legitimately stressed and don't have the benefit of actually having been on the three-week African safari that led "you" to the simulated mess. Whew. The rash intensifies since all the while, work work and school reading taunt you from home. May I quote Mercutio? "'Tis but a scratch."

End of the world? Hardly. Do many people have it worse than me? Damn straight. What is my issue then? Good point. Moving on.

An interesting tidbit from class - a substantial chunk of the three-hour session is spent discussing management issues, our experiences and learned theory. The class is pretty varied in terms of experience, age and gender. As I blogged a long time ago, I was starting to feel that the stigma of being laid off was fading. A woman in my class caused me to re-theorize. The stigma of being laid off has softened among the seasoned work force. Among the millennials (which, technically, I am), or those who haven't worked long or faced the threat of lay offs head on, being laid off puts you in the sloth bucket. To quote: "Well, I am in HR and we always say we eliminate positions not people, but there is always a reason they go. That is just trying to soften the blow." She went on, I boiled.

Head Full of Maple Syrup

I really, really don't like cats. It's bad. I am hesitant type that, because as a lover of dogs, I wonder how someone can even be neutral to those wonderful animals, let alone dislike, or, hate them. Moreover, there are some wonderful people in my life that love cats. Like really, really love cats. For some reason, my freshman year roommate, Gretchen, comes to mind. She is probably the first passionate cat person I ever encountered. We had many mutual loves - junior mints, napping, strange roommate behavior - but we never quite saw eye to eye on pets. However, G did me a great service - she prepped me for a life of loving the owner despite hating the pet. (Thanks, G-ski!)

Why bring this up now, you ask? Where is it going? Well, I'm home from work right now, with a head full of what feels like maple syrup, unable to breathe through my noise, making beautiful hhhoouuchhhuuuuukkkkk klahhh klahhhh sounds and coughing up ungodly amoeba-like globs. I believe this is because of, and will continue due to, cats.

I'm pretty horrifically allergic to these independent, oh-so-sleek creatures. Two weeks ago, John and I went to Nebraska and stayed with a lovely, more than hospitable couple who has an adorable miniature schnauzer and a "world's smallest bear" cat. Having been there before, I stocked up on allergy meds, nasal sprays and prepared to get quite intimate with a Kleenex box. It was pretty much what I expected - runny nose, watering eyes, itchy throat - making me one attractive lady. However, what I forgot was this: after putting my system through such membrane strain, I usually catch a really sweet virus and end up sick sick. And here I am.

Tomorrow, we leave for Minnesota, to visit John's sister, a lovely woman who also loves cats. Perhaps I'll plead H1N1 and don a mask. Long and short, I anticipate another week of illness, which my coworkers seem to revel in and appreciate. Despite my best attempts to hide, "hhhoouuchhhuuuuukkkkk klahhh klahhhh" can be heard down the hall, even when I am in the bathroom. Sorry, esteemed colleagues and polished outside consultants.

The cat deck has been stacked against me from the beginning - between the allergies and the influence of my father, I guess my heart was never open. Here's a story for you:

When I was about seven or eight, there were some cats roaming around our neighborhood. One day, as he pulled into the garage in his sweet 1990 tan Buick LaSabre, my father spotted such a creature on our roof. Just arriving home from work, still in his suit and tie, he sprang into action (dare I say his reflexes had a cat-like quality to them?). As I watched with intense curiosity, he grabbed a rake from the garage and moved to the side of the house. I assumed he was going to encourage the cat off the roof by startling or poking it. This would be one of the many instanced in which I underestimated my father.

He laid the rake down, right in the cat's motion path. When I asked him what he was doing he calmly replied "Just wait." I still have a vivid image of him, never taking his eyes from the cat, carefully anticipating its path with the rake, tongue sticking out just slightly from the corner of his mouth.

Finally, at the exact moment that cat had all four paws on the rake, my father, with the precision of a color guard captain, whipped the rake up and sent that feline flying. I watched, and in what seemed like slow motion, the cat arced into the sky, meowed, then landed on its feet 20 feet from our house. I stood agog.

Being young and under the influence of farm books and the Bearnstein Bears, I asked him if he was worried the cat would get hurt. As the it darted away, he laughed and said "No, babe. They always land on their feet. And now, he won't be back."

So there you have it friends. Do I think kittens are adorable? Yep. Do I respect a cat's independence? Sure. Am I sorry for what my father did? Not really.

Now, I must stop because I get dizzy looking at computer screens. Thanks, Boo.

Overdue and Undertime

How lame is this? I am blogging into a Word document so I can copy and paste the text when I am live tomorrow, as our apartment is currently sans an internet connection (perhaps this is as lame as using the word lame). However, it’s been far too long since I last sat down to type it out, and, quite frankly, I miss LadyLaidOff.

Now, a little countdown of key events in my life of late. Since coming back to work I have:

• Been contacted by five (yes, count ‘em) recruiters for potential job opportunities
• Made four drop-offs to the White Elephant (the resale shop benefiting Children’s Memorial Hospital)
• Been accepted to three grad programs
• Lived in two apartments (it wasn’t eviction, per say, but it was a battle)
• Had one massive, debilitating migraine (and several just “pretty bad” tributaries)

Here’s a good story for you.

About a week into my new stint at the old company, I ran into someone who was pretty directly involved in my lay off. They walked into the break room to wash out their mug (sustainability, people!) while I was making popcorn in the microwave. These individual actions committed us to sharing a mildly awkward space for at least two minutes.

They start by asking “So, are you glad to be back?” I respond with my standard (trite, but truthful) “Oh, yes. It’s great. It’s great to be working again, have some new challenges.” From there, the conversasion goes a little something like this:

Person: “It’s funny how things have a way of working out, it’s great we could bring you back.”

Me: “I know, good connections, good people.”

Person: “So, what did you do with your time off?”

Me: In my head…Oh, yes, isn’t it nice how we can call it time off now?...Out loud “I…”

Person: “Were you even looking?”

Now, at this point, if, all at the same time, the record could scratch, the crickets could chirp, the room could fall silent and the waiter could drop the drinks, clichés that scream “STUNNED/STUMPED/STUPIFIED” would not be enough to describe the my incredulous befuddlement.

Me: (After a loooong pause) “Yes. Very much so.”

Person: “Ah, so it’s as bad out there as they say.”

Me: “Yes. Very much so.”

Person: “Well, then it’s great you could come back!”

Me: “Yes. Very much so.”

At this point, they may have realized I was acting as if Voldemort himself had just put a stunning and repeating curse on me, or perhaps the beep of the microwave was their excuse to leave.

Person: “Well, good luck! Great to have you back.”

Me: “Thanks.”

Truly, this was the most insulted I have felt in recent memory. After unlocking my jaw (no easy task – I have TMJ – if you don’t know what it is, look it up and be thankful) and taking my eyes down from saucer-size, I grabbed my popcorn and headed back to my cube.

With relative certainly, I believe this person didn’t mean to convey the message I received. I don’t think they pictured me sitting on the couch (imprinted with my ass, no less), covered in orange Cheeto dust, wearing holey XXL sweatpants and four-day dirty hair waiting for the phone call from Old Company asking me to come back. However, to ask if I had even looked? Child, you don’ gon’ crazy.

I Am Bee-Hind

Do I need to update? You betcha. Do I have the time? Not so much. Work is deliciously busy, the summer move #2 is imminent and grad school gallops closer.

Yikes.

You're Not a Chubby, Greasy, Poorly Dressed Person!

Came back to work on Monday. Same building, sitting one floor down. It's funny - when people first saw me, particularly if they didn't know I was coming back, they all said the same thing: "You look good!"

Even better was how most people I took by surprise said it: "You look...good..." As if, they were really blown away I maintained a standard of physical decency. The surprise in their voices pretty much said: "Huh. You didn't go off the deep end after being let go. Well done!"

Other frequently heard comments:

• "Your hair got long!" Well, that happens after four months, I suppose.
• "You look so well rested!" Yep. I've been sleeping about 10 hours a day for quite some time.
• "You are tan!" Well, let's just say that after confirming my new employment, I didn't spend my days inside.
• "You've lost weight!" Hm...perhaps five pounds, perhaps the all-black shirtwaist dress. I won't tell you which.

Don't get me wrong, I can be told how great I look all day long, but I just particularly enjoyed the tone of astonishment in people's voices. I suppose people do go off the deep end after being laid off - that's why I had to get a drug test.

Last Day of Unemployment...

...and I wish I could say I was going out with a bang, but that's just not the case. Why, you ask? Well, largely because I didn't get around to finishing my Loyola essay earlier this week. Why, you ask? Well, kids, the best laid plans... My intention was to wrap it up yesterday afternoon. That was until John called to inform me we needed to be out of our apartment by September 30. Please note, we moved in June 1. Whaaaaaa....?

They are converting our rental building into condos, and this requires a major gut rehab. If you've seen our place, you know. I love living here (or, rather, I loved) but it's not the kind of place you buy, unless you're cool with a dishwasher circa 1979 and windows so thin the trains on the L set your schedule. But, our sweet management company did a bang-up job of under- and mis-communicating the situation to us, since we first received a notice saying the building is going condo (good luck with that), but our lease will be honored. Several more follies ensued, but I'll spare you the details.

We didn't go overboard purchasing decor for the apartment, but Home Depot got some serious cash out of us as we built a custom microwave shelf, added hanging bars to closets and assisted in preserving the structural integrity of this building. Add to that moving expenses, man-hours cleaning the place (ever seen black mop water with nail clippings in it? Yea, that bad), and an army of friends who carried our crap (Tom has a very strict one move, per friend, per year policy, as he told us already) and it's just plain annoying that MTD Management doesn't believe they owe us financial recourse. We'll see, my friends, we'll see.

Tangent aside, today, last day of unemployment, will be spent finessing an essay. Then on Monday, I return to work. I don't know where I am sitting. I'm not sure what my title is. But, I think I know to whom I report. Small victories, big dance.

In the end, I guess the joke is on the former company. They generously gave me three months' severance, laid four and half months of unemployment on top of that, and now, the prodigal daughter returns. It would have been a bit more fun for me had I known the ending, but I guess that spoils the plot, doesn't it? It's been fun. And emotional. And stressful. And educational. And I think I need to share my learnings with others. So, the plan is to try and write a short book on what to do when you're laid off. We'll see if it makes it past the idea stage.

You Can't Go Home Again...

...But, apparently, you can move in next door.

I just found out that I will officially be reporting to my old group, (thus, my former boss) when I return to work on Monday. Thrilling news (I loved reporting to Leslie and greatly respect the work of the team), but it certainly threw me for a loop.

When I was let go, I pined so deeply to return to my old company, my old group, my old desk (check out this entry) I actually inhibited my own forward progress. I probably spoke to too many former colleagues about too much work stuff, too often and wanted so desperately to be part of this fantastic group again, I got myself in a knot. The only way to move on was to really let go.

That didn't mean not speaking to these people anymore; that would have been nearly impossible - they are my work family. But I did release any hope of being part of the team and I moved forward, feeling healthier all the while.

Now, I am heading back, reporting to the same person but doing very different work. We'll call it returning to the neighborhood. Well, I can't mull over the situation too long, I suppose, as I have been known to be a tad analytical (I can see my girlfriends rolling there eyes right now) - okay, yes, chronic over analyzer here. Today's' college dating patterns will turn any gal into a damn gumshoe. I digress. Familiarity will bring some comfort while I work out new challenges. In the meantime, I need to get a drug test.

What is that? You must pee in a cup? Indeed. Since I have been gone from the company more than three months (ahem, whose fault is that, ahem) they want to make sure I haven't gone off the deep end, blowing coke and rockin' the gange. No, no, dear company, my dismissal only led to a few too many happy hours and three packs of cigarettes.

Dear Admissions Officer...

I am writing to inform you that I very much want to attend your graduate school. Why, you ask? Well, there are many reasons. To start, I think I can get into your school. Or alternatively, I am not sure I can, but will try and win you over with wit and charm.

I have had a passion for all things your university for the as long as I have seriously considered getting ready to maybe apply to grad schools - about six months in real time. What further appeals to me about your program is that it is located in Chicago, where I live, and is reachable via the "L."

Your XYZ program is widely respected nationally, and if not nationally, then definitely maybe regionally and definitely for sure locally. I think you will teach me what I need to know to further my personal and professional development. Well, certainly professional, and I believe personal development will come from learning to balance your rigorous academic schedule with the demands of my job. Of course, this leads me to another reason I want to attend - you offer a part-time program, demonstrating your concern and regard for the lives of students.

Further demonstrating your committment to students attendign the XYZ college, you offer an abundance of financial aide and scholarship options. All of the fiscal help options sound simple enough to apply for, and only require me committing my first-born child to your endentured service. Such a gift! Moreover, you are competitively priced with other Chicago instutions making you just as unaffordable, not more so, than comparable programs.

Finally, I want you to know that I have much to offer the XYZ program: a sardonic wit, an appreciation for those smarter than me, and a belief that what it meant to be will be. Oh, yes, also - I am willing to say whatever I must in order to gain acceptance to your program. However, once I am enrolled, you will see underneath me a fire so bright it requires a space suit.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Facetiously yours,

Melissa A. Richgels

Putting Yourself Out There

Summer finally decided to come to Chicago. Thanks, buddy. We missed you. As such, I was at the beach yesterday. More specifically, I was at the North Avenue beach bar, Castaways, where my friend Becky works, having a beer. Yes, I do mean A beer. My five-year college reunion last weekend may have caused irreparable internal damage, so we're taking it slow (it must have been the fact we stayed in the dorms...saying "no" to one more just didn't feel right). Anyway, at Castaways, where the people watching is more fun than the beer is warm, I looked over to one of the shirt-less, tattooed, shorn-chested gentlemen (term used loosely) sardined around me and see this:

The other side reads "Laid Off." I asked him where he got it, thinking it was from a job fair or some laid off congregation, but he said he got it from a Web site that just sells these bands. I was curious and wanted to ask him more about his laid off experience, but he was annoyed that I even talked to him as he was busy trying to make headway with the size four blond in a white bikini that didn't quite cover her butt, which was the same tan as her legs. That's all fine and dandy, but don't forget, buddy - your lack of income is encircling your wrist, and I doubt Sandy wants to buy her own electric lemonade. Hope you have a trust fund. Oh, wait, that was the guy taking to Carly...

Anyway, it really is amazing to see the stigma of being laid off slowly evaporate with every corporate cut, Wall Street analysis and Fed press release. If people are willing to spell it out, it almost seems en vogue. Which reminds me, I need to develop my laid off t-shirt line before I go back to work in a two weeks.

Two weeks. It still feels a bit surreal, but the date of my return to the ivory tower creeps closer and closer. It's time to do all those things I talked about when I was first laid off: "Well, I'm sad, but now I can organize my pictures, get my files in order and write that book I keep talking about ." Which reminds me, I should get cracking on that, eh? I think I'll postpone my non-fiction "The Second Adolescence" and write something more topical like "Laid Off? Me Too.Let's Crack a Bushe Light While Perusing Craigs List."

As for this blog, I enjoy it and keep having people come up to me and tell me they enjoy it, so I'll keep writing. No official new topic as of yet. Blogging about working again is probably not the best idea since it's rather a public link these days and I would hate to lose my newly acquired position do to an accidental slip of the keys. Plenty of time to find a topic. Now, I just need to find a publisher...

Surreal Cliches

"When it rains it pours." Damn straight it does. The week I received a job offer from my old company the following happened:

• A wonderful new contact shared that he was impressed with me and could easily arrange for me to get into Northwestern's IMC program.
• I had a call for a real interview.
• I had a call for a phone interview.
• I had a second call for a phone interview with a company that had previously rejected me, saying there had been a mistake.

Well, even given all of that, I decided to accept the new role with my old company. It's completely separate from what I did prior - a fresh, big challenge that uses my communications skills and will lend me more of the change readiness type. It's good.

Lots of things going through my head - will process, cynicize and spew for all of you later. Still kinda reeling (in the best way possible).

Drumroll, Please!

The ex-boyfriend asked me back. I got an offer from my old company today. Relief/joy/happiness/accomplishment/ahhhhhhh explosion!

Check One: Yes, No, Maybe

I feel like a fifth-grade girl who passed a note to a boy saying: "Do you like me? Check one: Yes, No, Maybe." In this case, the boy checked "Maybe" and said he'd get back to me early next week. Only that next week is this week and that boy is my old company.

Let's just say that I jump every time the phone rings and check my e-mail with apprehensive dread every fifteen minutes. See, I figure the "Yes" will come via phone and the "No" by e-mail. Something tells me this boy isn't much for confrontation. Maybe he'll even make one of his friends tell me "No." Wouldn't that just be neat? Not so much.

I have some other dates pending if you will, but I guess since I am courting my "ex-boyfriend," so to speak, the fear of being turned down is exacerbated. I mean really, who opens themselves up to being dumped twice? Me, I guess.

Old Company: Hey, you're lookin' fine. Maybe I want you back, but I don't know. Can you come in and talk to me first?
Me: Oh, yes, you handsome, handsome man with your evil commute. I want you to want me!

I know, I know. It's not like that at all in terms of business and opportunity. I would never turn down a great interview for a good company, no matter our history. But, when you flick on the emotional end, the dating game makes a lovely analogy. And see? See what I have done? A week has passed since my interview and I allowed myself to think maybe, just maybe this would work out. Remember when I said I was sure I wouldn't get the position? Yea, I need to go back to that school of thinking, like, now.

In other, better, news, I have phone screen today and an informational interview tomorrow. I got a large chunk of my grad school applications completed yesterday and am rolling on through.

Now, if only my phone wouldn't keep pretending to light up out of the corner of my eye...

Oversharing? That's the Name of This Game

So, I joined Twitter. As Lady Laid Off. I figured I could tweet about unemployment along with whatever else happened to strike me at the moment. There are so many rich ironies in life and mild moments of amusement, I think I'd like to add those to my writing arsenal.

This brings me to wonder: am I over sharing in a public domain? I am known among friends and confidants as one who tends to just give a tad too much information, particularly when relaying stories from the old days in pest control (have you ever seen a rat gnaw its leg free from a glue board? Probably not). Now, for whomever wants to read the highs and lows of my unemployment trek, I blog. And, adding fuel to the fire, I will share the minutia of my life through Twitter. By Tweeting. Talk about something to be overheard on the street: "Hey man, did you read my tweet? It was sweet!" What is the past tense of Tweet? I would think Twat, but that is actually horrific slang for...oh geez. That is probably more of a Twitter booty call? I'll stop there.

Written pontification aside, I will be Tweeting. Follow me.

I had an interview at my old company yesterday, for a specific project team. It went well, so naturally, I am certain I won't get it. There is an internal candidate also up for the position, and although they probably don't have the same communications skills requisite for the job, their current position is being eliminated soon, and with politics at play, I imagine that transition will be easier for the company. As much as I have consciously shut out the possibility of receiving an offer, (serious self-preservation mode here) my subconscious seems to relish the idea. I dreamed about it all last night, so much so I woke up thinking I had the job. Bastard dreams.

In any case, plan B is in full swing. Grad school apps due July 1.

Seriously? Seriously.

Here's a dip in the incline I previously reported (roller coasters can't just go up); I figured it was approaching. Remember that phone interview I had that went so well they called me for an two-hour, four-person interview? Well, the company called on Wednesday saying two of the people whom I was supposed to interview with had been called into a mandatory meeting. They wanted me to reschedule for Friday (today) or Monday. Naturally, I said "Sure, great no problem, just let me know."

Well, after calling (and leaving a polite, upbeat, mildly witty message) yesterday to confirm the interview wasn't in fact, today (um, you know, need to prepare, get some sleep, plan my outfit, wax my moustache, etc. - last one was a joke, kids), I didn't hear back. Thus, I assumed it must be Monday or another day next week. Until, I get a call today telling me they have filled the position. What?!?

Apparently, though they were "wowed" by me on the phone, they hired an internal applicant. However, they don't want to close the door on future opportunities with this company. But wait, I said, I was scheduled for yesterday, are you sure you don't want to meet? Nope, apparently "this" happens sometimes in job searches. I guess "this" is scheduling someone for an interview, then canceling, saying you'll reschedule, then not, then offering the position to an internal candidate. Mmmkay, that's fine, but next time, if you have a promising internal candidate, don't extend interview appointments only to cancel them! Poor form, I say, poor form.

Of course, as to not burn bridges, I told the woman on the phone how much I respect recruitment from within (and I earnestly do, just don't tease me with interviews, jackass) and how I hope something in the future would arise. Grrrrr. I was really excited about this one, it felt like a sincere match. Yes, yes, I know. The cardinal rule? Each step is just to get you to the next one. Keep your hopes weighed down with a wet wool blanket. I blame the sun. It dried my blanket and made it cuddly soft.

And then (here comes the "seriously?" part), about two hours later, I get a call from my old company. They have a 20-month communications assignment they want to talk to me about. It's with a very involved, very specific project, not part of my old group. Thanks for passing my name along, Jon. But, they are looking at another internal candidate, so woe be the day I start my dreaming again. Meeting with them on Monday. Should be interesting. Seriously? Seriously.

56 Degrees on June 3 Aside...

...It's a pretty gosh darn good day. I am typing in a sweatshirt with a blanket around my legs, but aside from the chill, things are dy-no-mite. I had a FANTASTIC informational interview today with a woman who gave me great perspective and advice, then passed my resume on to a few of her colleagues saying:

"I met with a woman today...who really struck me as a good content, presence and cultural fit for you. Melissa comes separately and highly recommended to me from [a couple of people from my old company]. She was wonderful to talk to and while we don’t have anything that is a fit for her internal comm. background, I genuinely believe she’d be fantastic for you."

Um, holla! And for those of you keeping score at home, yes, this is the same networking meeting that nearly sent me into a panic a few weeks back. Why? Oh jeez...I do it to myself, kids. And then, after the interview, I started my grad school applications, and then I rehabbed a resume for another job lead, and then...well, then I dealt with overwhelming asinine sorority drama where two sides are pitted against each other with competing and contrasting stories and really no one knows which way is up!

So, for the moment, the roller coaster continues the assent. It's a good thing too, because uh, I'm really ready to work again.

My interview that was supposed to be for yesterday was rescheduled, but I figure it just gives me more time to prep. And work on grad school essays. Northwestern requires three. Jerks. Just kidding. If there is such a thing as "stretch" schools in the graduate world, NU is mine. And, no, I'm not delusionally applying to Kellogg; I'll leave that to the masochists out there. I'm throwing my hat in the ring for Medill's Integrated Marketing Communications program. I'll save my MBA apps for elsewhere.

In the key of living frugally, the song we are singing tonight is: dollar burgers at McGee's and second-run films at the Brew & View. Gotta love this city.

Time to Two-Step

Fits & spurts, ebbs & flows, hots & colds...step right up for a roller coaster ride in the unemployment wonderland. Luckily for me, I am currently on the climb. Networking interview tomorrow (after writing this I need to do some candid self-exploration on strengths and weaknesses), real interview on Thursday and a new opportunity on the horizon courtesy of a colleague from many moons ago (thanks, Danielle!). Oh, and DePaul's part-time MBA program application is due July 1. I'd best jump on that.

So, dear friends (or, as Dear Abby might say "gentle readers,") I am actually quite busy. A real busy - like unpacking an apartment, cleaning, organizing, networking, interviewing, writing, applying, etc. It feels good.

The interviews can't come soon enough because what expired just yesterday? Oh, that would be my severance. Yep, I am officially riding the tide of unemployment funds and savings accounts. Yikes. Time for frugality at its finest. If only I didn't love eating out, getting drinks, and you know, that kinda stuff. Perhaps this will be good not only for my wallet but my waistline (ha, what a cliche - I laughed when I typed that).

So, in conclusion to this rambling blog, let's hope for the best with these pending opportunities toast to an exercise (hmm, okay, more reality than exercise) in spending restraint, and aim for a quick application process. Good day.

"Busy"

This morning I had my first interview (qualifier: phone interview) that I setup myself - no introductions, no networking, just me working the job boards. It felt nice. Accomplished, even. Now, please understand - I totally get that networking is the way to move in this economy. I get it, I embrace it, and Lord knows I am humbled when people network on my behalf, but there is something satisfying about knowing my resume was good enough to attract attention without an introduction. Well, I did write a pretty dynamite cover letter, but that was just me introducing me.

I felt the phone interview went well. But, I am stopping there because ALO, I have felt many interviews went well, and WELL, gee, I am still writing this blog. About being laid off. Unemployed. On the dole. Feel me? Good. Moving on.

I think something unemployed people love is feeling busy. Like, outside of looking for work busy. Paltry projects become like porn (forgive me that one, the alliteration was too much fun). My big project this week: Moving! Well, first the project is cleaning, because the place is pretty dirty. Unvacuumed carpet dirty. Old tenant's shower curtain dirty. I wiped down a wall and the cloth was black dirty.

But, the process of cleaning, then moving, and then finally settling in all feel so good. I look forward to these projects that are at best banal and at worst grueling manual labor. Why? It's an honest busy that doesn't involve sitting in front of the computer for hours on end, trying first to find open positions then second, to write a snappy yet respectful cover letter, then third, to re-type my resume into employers' specific seven-screen forms. Then wishin' and hopin' and plannin' etc. etc.

So, do I want a new job? Yes. Do I want a spotless apartment? Yes. Do I know which is going to get more effort this week? You betcha.

It's healthy. It shows results.

Sometimes You Shouldn't Read the Paper

Holy Downer, Batman! Want to read some bad news? Check out this article from the Trib.

In short, it says that most people who get laid off will never make as much or climb to the executive heights they achieved in their position they were released from. Sweetness.

Finally, an example of how my age and lack of experience work in my favor. Boo-ya.

...And We're Back

Okay, a bit more bright-eyed, bushy-tailed today.

I realize that my last post was "depressing," in the words of my brother, "wow, downer," in the lexicon of my mother and "let's talk," in the ways of Laurney. Yea, it wasn't fun, but it was reality at that moment, and this blog is all about the reality of unemployment.

However, the cloud has passed, opportunities present themselves and I am up again.

Go team!

The Worst Casualty

This morning I received an e-mail from a former colleague/teacher of mine letting me know he shared my resume with a contact at a communications agency in Chicago. Though the agency isn't hiring, the woman would like to meet with me. Knowing me and my weaknesses pretty well, he shared a few helpful tips including: type-os and grammar-os ain't gonna fly with this woman, and, I should be ready to candidly assess my skills and lack thereof. Simple enough.

Naturally, one would think I sat down immediately to set up a meeting, right? Not this time. I was terrified. I suddenly began to think of all the reasons someone at a premier agency would scoff at my qualifications and chuckle at my ambitions. The delusional day-terrors then moved on to seeing myself send this woman an e-mail seasoned with glaring errors and in the end having her ask my colleague "Why did you waste my time?" As I reflected on my experience meeting people and applying to positions over the past few months, I noticed the virtual stack of rejections in my head growing. From there I moved on to the reasons people didn't hire me, perhaps why some shouldn't hire me, and then really started to feel stupid, incapable and utterly lame.

Now, if you read here often, or at all, you may notice I tend towards the upbeat most of the time, and I am all about make the best of my situation (hello, last post on recess?). However, at some point in everyone's laid off experience I think they come to realize just how badly their sense of "work self" is damaged. Logically, even intrinsically, I know I am a capable, talented worker, but lately, I read job posts and think: "Nope, they wouldn't hire me. Nope, can't do that. Nope. Nope. Nope." Or, like today, I am paralyzed with fear when an opportunity presents itself.

I have read that shrinks around the country are seeing a huge uptick in the number of patients coming in with lay off-related problems (at least their profession is benefiting from a double-digit jobless rate). It's not hard to understand why: if you pride yourself on the work you do and the talents you posses, what happens when you are told none of what you bring to the table, YOU in fact, aren't needed anymore? That's a mind cluster, kids.

I believe you feel the hit hardest the first month ALO. But also during that time, you are so uber-motivated, so fresh, so convinced your next gig is just a phone call and Google search away. What is hard now, almost three months out, is that when these feelings of doubt about your work-self creep in, you have to pull raw power from all other bits of yourself, because often times, adding fuel to the fire is a pile of rejections. I just noticed I used the pronoun "you," when very clearly, this is me I am talking about.

So there, it's out. I am terrified. Terrified I've lost my touch, terrified my brain has withered, terrified that people who meet me will be able to tell in just a second or two that my talents are dilapidated. I am terrified that the great job I had was a fluke and I'm not going to get that lucky this next time around.

And just like that, the roller coaster descends.

Recession/Depression/Repression

Recession. I just realized: you can't have "recession" without "recess." Ah, recess, the beloved playtime for elementary school children. Monkeying around on the jungle gym, running the bases during kickball, climbing snow hills made by the plowing of the school parking lot: yes, these are all the makings of pleasant school-day memories. In 5th grade, my classmates at Wayside (go Wildcats!) started playing boys vs. girls "keep-away," which was sort of the coolest thing we had done in our lives to date, but our Catholic school teachers quickly killed that when they discovered this game involved lots of co-ed pile-ups and dangerous "tagging." Prudes. But, I digress.


As the summer nears (and, as even the most devout other-city-denizens will attest, summer in Chicago is magic), being laid off is seeming like a recess for me. Whoa, whoa, whoa, settle down, Sally. This doesn't mean I am thrilled to have no income or ecstatic to be out of work. It took a long time to see the bright side like this. And yes, I am very actively looking for a new job, but as I have gone through the formal grieving process (something like: denial/disbelief, sadness, anger, big-time anger, realization, anger again, annoyance, sadness, anger, "meh," realization/reconciliation), I can say: not having a job, in Chicago, during the summer, with one of my best friends bar tending at the coolest beach bar (see photo, left), well kids, it just ain't the worst thing in the world.



Clearly, I am privileged in that I can feel this way, because, once again, it's just me I have to support. If I had kids and a mortgage, no matter the weather outside, my sun wouldn't be shining. So, I'll take the blessings were they lay (lie?) and this blessing just happens to lie (lay?) on North Avenue Beach, at a bar called Castaways with a bartender named Becky. Boys - she's cute AND single AND jumps really high (see photo, right).


Anyway, the jury is still very much out on when this recession/depression (my father calls it a repression - and he's a very smart man - very in tune with the markets, an oh so clever to boot) will end, though I tend to believe it will be later rather than sooner. Unfortunately, another friend of mine just became a "victim" and was pseudo laid-off (something like he's not getting paid until they have a specific project for him, but he keeps his desk), so reminders that we are still in a drab economy remain ever-present. I know he doesn't see this as recess, but all in due time.

Finally, I forgot to mention - I was quoted in an article on weight-loss after job loss. Okay, by no means have I turned into a mini-pixie, but I do workout waaay more these days. That's it. Toodle-doo!

Reunited and It Feels So Good...

That's the song Career Builder and I have been singing these days. Similar duets ensue with Monster, Hot Jobs and Indeed. And see? This is that roller coaster again. Back hot-n-heavy with the job searching and it's all a lovefest, until the "Thanks, but no thanks" e-mails start rolling in or, perhaps worse, but inbox starts spouting cricket noises.

Having a new focus is refreshing. Also refreshing, in a cold glass of water to the face during a Chicago January type of way, is trying to make things right with the sorority girls I am volunteering with. Fickle is the college student. I really want to help them, but I get something in place, then they tell me they don't like it. I try and fix it and they don't like that either. It's excellent practice working with people again, since I have few conflicts with myself in my new role of blogger, job-hunter and former GMAT-studier, other than:

"Change your cover letter."
"No, you'll do it later."
"No, Melissa Now needs to do it."
"Nah, Melissa Later can change it."

It gets intense here some days. Speaking of intense, I really love the sitcom "The Game." The target audience is clearly African American, (I used to watch it on the UPN/CW and now catch reruns on BET during my lunch break), but wow, it's good. Kelsey Grahmer (Frasier!) produces the show. MMMkay...aren't you happy I shared that with you?

Okay, time to apply to a communication role with a dental equipment company.

...And Done

GMAT is oh-vah!

I didn't do as well as I had hoped, but I didn't do poorly. I scored well enough to get into most of the programs I was looking at, so the disappointment I feel is really just coming from my ego. Yep, I have the little bit of the green monster in me . Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I was laid off...as in, selectively reduced, and subconsciously I wanted to kill the test as if to say "Hey, you can let me go, but I'm still smart!" To whom am I saying that? No idea. Like I said, subconscious, very freaky-Freudian stuff.

Any-who, now back to the business of finding a job, paired with critically examining part and full time MBA programs. Yes, I have decided on an MBA over a masters in a communication derivative. Strangers (who are communication agency owners) and friends alike have told me that's the way to go, and I believe them. Plus, it's nice to have a decision made.

So, here I go, here I go, here I go again...girls, what's my weakness? MEN! Just kidding, Salt-n-Peppa, my weakness is being unemployed, so it's about time to jump on and change that. I am a bit scared, actually. As much of a pain as the GMAT was, it provided a nice shelter from the grim waves of rejection that come with applying for jobs. Ah well, I will be so good at glancing blows by the time I am done!

Watch out, employers, I am tiger, hear me roar.

Things That Don't Stay the Same

Remember back in high school, when being really smart likely meant you'd be made fun of for one thing or another? It was "cool" to be smart, and quite neat to be off-the-charts smart (it begged curiosity and awe) but really smart? Not so much. I remember a classmate and casual friend of mine scored a 32 on the ACT. A 32 (no, this wasn't me; you can't score a 32 when you get an 18 in the math section), and she hid it from everyone because she knew when people found out, in some way or another, people (likely out of jealousy or fear) would rag her about it.

Whew! Thank goodness adulthood is nothing like that. Then again, a friend of mine just told me he got a 740 on the GMAT (98% percentile for those of you keeping score at home), prompting me to call him a jackass and hit him on the shoulder. That, however, was done in awe and respect; like a I-won't-score-that-high-way-to-go-kid type of thing.

Anyway, my only point being, I am glad I am an adult, and no matter how well (or not-so-well) I do on the GMAT:

1. Not everyone I know will get their results from the SAME test on the SAME day making it the topic of non-stop conversation for 48 hours, and
2. I won't get made fun of, good, bad, in between.

So, I think I will shoot for the proverbial moon of 700 (why not 800? I'm a realist, people) because if I miss I will land among the...uh-oh. Not the stars, not even space junk. As my friend Dan (he's one of those creepy smart people) pointed out, if you shoot for the moon and miss, long before you are pummeled by space junk (as Patrick and I asserted) you will suffer hypothermia, oxygen deprivation and radiation burns.

I am just an hour away from taking this test...this was my warm-up essay.

T Minus Three Days

Well, kiddies, the GMAT is on Wednesday. Logic would dictate that I will do as well on the actual as I have on the practice tests, which would be a-okay with me. I know I am prepared, and yet, the dancing gnome of doubt keeps soft-shoeing his way into my math-muddled mind.

I realize as I type that there is no brain juice left for today. I have visions in my head of a clever blog entry, but it's getting lost somewhere between my brain and the keyboard.

Necessity/Desire Breeds Invention/Oddities

Walking to the gym today I became quite smitten with the flowerbeds along the way. Walking home, I began to think I really wanted some fresh flowers for my apartment, to kind of "spring up" the place amidst 20 days of overcast skies (yes, I get that rain is springy too - it's just not fun).

As I contemplate purchasing tulips, I realized that spending $10 on perishable flowers really isn't a prudent expense for the laid off. I thought about taking a few daffodils or lillys along the way, but that's just not neighborly and looks mighty suspicious (flower? what flower?). Then, I spotted an overgrowth of weeds along a rental property and genius (desperation?) struck. Dandelions.

I began plucking those suckers up, ignoring the odd looks of passersby, feeling a little retro and inventive. As I moved on, I spotted a violet patch, and ta-da! A bouquet (Rolling Meadows Mustang colors, none the less). So, now, I have fresh flowers in my apartment and spent no money, just a bit of pride as I endured school boys then CTA workers asking if the flowers were for them.

Lady Laid Off: Saving money and flower beds, one day at a time.

The Nightmares Have Begun

I woke up this morning, sweaty and frantic. I had been dreaming all night; most of the dreams were of the standard variety, mildly bazaar, slightly amusing, completely forgettable. The last one I had was the sweat-inducing, panic-striking kind.

I was sitting in an open space, taking the GMAT, but as people finished the test long before I did, they didn't leave the room. They began to talk, laugh, throw things at each other all while I was still struggling through some data sufficiency nightmares. I kept "shush-ing" everyone to no avail, as the clock in the upper-left corner of my computer screen kept winding down. As the noise grew and the seconds dwindled, pure panic set in. I finally stood up and asked everyone to please, please be quiet, at which point they turned, hushed up, then began uproariously laughing at me.

Oi. I am taking a practice test today, another on Friday, then probably a final one on Monday. GMAT is Wednesday. It's a scary, scary thing.

Shoot For the Moon and Get Pummled to Rubble By Space Garbage

So my brother and I are enjoying the gorgeous weather in Chicago by sitting outside, having a frosty Busch Light (Yep. Drinking AGAIN), and pondering life's mysteries. Or, more specifically, life's cliches.

Here it is: "Shoot for the moon, because if you miss, you'll land among the stars." Well, that's just not factually accurate. If you miss the moon, you will land amid space junk, comets, particle debris and possibly the asteroid belt around Mars. Ouch. Doesn't sound so fun now, does it?

Our suggestion, if you care to heed it, is to shoot for the next galaxy over. There, you are pretty much guaranteed to land among stars, and potentially earth-like planets where you can start a new life. But really, if you land among the stars, you will likely be incinerated within milliseconds, so perhaps we should stay grounded, no?

Not to say we're not dreamers! No, no. P wants to be a rock star and I an author, but hey, we fit in the special category of "scientifically realistic dreamers." So, all you rocket men out there, go to town, Coops, just know the risks.

And now, because this blog is all about the bright side, see Baz Lurhman's "The Sunscreen Song" and hug someone.

Giving Back, Living the Drama

My first job out of college was with my sorority. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you GDIs (and for that matter, most of my friends who were in my sorority who think I am crazy for still caring about Greek life), but you know what? I enjoyed working for an organization I believed in and it gave me some pretty marketable skills. Granted, I still have to explain why I chose that route and the aforementioned skills, even NOW, five years later, as I try and sell myself to lowest bidder. (Hire me! Hire me!)

Anyway, the ol' Fraternity HQ heard I was unemployed (probably because I advertise it rather shamelessly) and came calling, looking for some help. A notoriously difficult chapter was being notoriously difficult again and HQ thought I could relate, being from an Ohio school at such. How bad could it be, I thought? I will talk them down, share a laugh and get things moving in the right direction.

Yikes.

Have you ever been in front of 90 sobbing 18-22 year old women (or girls, if you prefer)? It's scary. What's worse, being in front of them, trying to reach out, all the while knowing you might as well be playing Tiger Woods in a sudden death round. That was a little less than a month ago. I went back this week to try and help some more, get things rolling, assess the damage.

Yep, still damaged. It's funny; this experience is a bit frustrating. I relate to the chapter's needs (um, yes, if I were them I would want to be as social as every other chapter on campus without getting in trouble) but I can see where HQ is coming from (three kegs at a bar with people of all ages drinking freely, hmm...). But as I attempt to balance each side of the equation, what strikes me the most is the passion these women have for or against their house. Officers in the chapter were so frustrated with their experiences, they had anxiety attacks requiring medication. Xanax? At 20? Something isn't right here. I want to say, "Guys, you really don't have it so bad! The real world is a lot scarier."

But, that is their reality, as it once was mine. Their job is to go to school, get good grades, have a great time and be involved if they so choose. It puts the lay off thing in perspective. So, yes, I am unemployed and it sucks, but five years from now, I might look back on this like the sting of an HPV vaccination (women under 26, get them now!) in comparison to the non-anesthetized open heart surgery I may face.

Interestingly enough, I set out to make this blog a commentary on DDDD-RAMA and growing up, but I guess perspective is more interesting.

So, yes, on to write my report to HQ in which I will say "Let them eat cake!" Or in this case, keg.

Lies, I Tell You! All Lies!

Yesterday I lied about being unemployed. It was a first, and it felt really awkward. Granted, it was to someone at the gym, whom I believed was trying to sell me personal training while I was on a machine, but none the less, it felt cheap. I was simply trying to get her to go away so I could huff and sweat in peace, but she kept asking questions.

It started out simply enough:
Trainer: Hi, my name is Pam! [sticks out hand to shake]
Me: [On the saddle-bag-busting cardio machine] Uh, hi. Melissa. [shakes hand]
Trainer: Have you heard of a a personal fitness evaluation?
Me: Yes, I actually have used a personal trainer before.
Trainer: Oh, who is it?
Me: It's someone at your Downers Grove location.
Trainer: Oh, wow, why you you go out there?
Me: I work out there.
Trainer: Wow, that's far.
Me: Yep.
Trainer: So, what do you do?
Me: Um, for my workouts?
Trainer: [Laughing] No, no, for your job.
Me: [Annoyance and panic setting in] Communications.
Trainer: What kind? Where?
Me: Internal, corporate stuff for XXXXX.
Trainer: That sounds cool.
Me: Yep.
Trainer: So why are you here?
Me: They let me work from home.
Trainer: Okay, well if you ever want a trainer here, or have any questions, let me know!
Me: Thanks, I will.

Do you see how the lies just snowballed? Inconsequential? Yes. However, it defeated my "I am unemployed, not happy about it, but honest and open about it" attitude. Why Pam, why? Why must you ask questions when all I want to do is get my mid-day sweat going?

In other news, the best sketch comedy show of all time, MTV's briefly running "The State" is releasing a DVD set with every episode ever aired plus 90 minutes of bonus footage. Om nom nom. I can't put into words my passion for this comedic genius, so please see below:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QEzCsANCWNc

You Can Never Go Home Again

I think at some point, ALO, all people who have been let go as part of a "mass termination" or "headcount reduction" or "multiple-people-kicked-to-the-curb-at-lightening-speed-with-ninja-like-precision" just want to go back to their company. If not the company that laid them off, certainly the last great company they worked for.

Right now, that is how I feel. I just want to say "Okay, that was a fun trial separation, but let's get back together now." I want to walk up to my desk, sit down, and start working, as if nothing happened. Being a mildly blunt and slightly unapologetic person, I actually tell my former managers this. You see, I am fortunate, because I regularly speak with them for counsel and direction; not everyone gets that. They are kind and helpful in all the ways they can be, but, of course, they can't take me back.

Cue music: "HERE I GO, AGAIN ON MY OWN! GOIN' DOWN THE ONLY ROAD I'VE EVER KNOWN!" I picture myself rocking out like Will Ferrel in Old School as he fixes up his not-quite-street-legal car. But of course, I am quite far from being alone and quite lucky in life. So, as I often must do, the Monday morning woe-is-me party gets cut off....now.

In happier news, I found an uber-awesome apartment in the exact location Iwanted, under budget. See layout below. As a bonus, apparently it's not a huge issue that I have no job. Score one for me.

I close with some great words from my layoff mentor, Tom, who is currently backpacking through Europe before he heads to Notre Dame for his MBA (it's all [sic]): so i am laid off in the recession? going to grad school, and bqckpacking europe first. guess what street im staying on? rue de cliche

Every Girl Wants to be Light, Right?

Light. Doesn't that just conjure up positive images in your head? Judy Garland tells us to enjoy Christmas with "...let your heart be light." Remember that good ol' sleepover game, light as a feather, stiff as a board? Technology is always working on the newest light-weight fabrics and materials. Dancers aim to be "light on their feet." Buying a light snack gives you all the taste with half the fat. Um, let's not forget Natural Light. Miller Lite. (I know, I know. There she goes, talking about beer again.)


In the tween and teen years, I remember wanting so badly to be light in weight so I could fly in cheerleading and have boys lift me up with ease during high school flirtations. Truth be told, I guess I still want to be light in weight, but not so I can be thrown in the air by adolescents, more for the vanity of it.



But, as I discovered today, light is also a nice HR term for under qualified. I had a great conversation with a recruiter for a CPG company, and he was kind enough to tell me at the end of it, that I was "light for this position." Sad face.


Silver lining: I have a new contact, and he said I would be a fantastic candidate for something a couple of levels down. But still, this is one light I would rather not be.


Time to get hot 'n' heavy with my GMAT book.

Unemployment and the Cognitive Process

Okay, kids, it's Reformation time! Not a Martin Luther nailing a petition on the Catholic church's door type of reformation, but more of a cognitive expectation one. It's time to let go of the dream. What dream is that, you ask? The dream of being gainfully employed by the time my severance runs out. See, I had sugarplum fairy-like fantasies of a month of double income dancing in my head. The gorgeous notions of not having to COBRA or e-health insurance filled my heart with joy and hope.

Well, as it ever does, reality kindly brings me back down to earth. Thanks, gravitational pull. Optimism is great, a positive attitude is a must, but a healthy dose of realism will save your sanity. So, I am cognitively restructuring my expectations. It's looking like I will be unemployed for at least six months, not the two or three I hoped.

It's hard not to get your hopes up when you find a job description that seems like it is made up of your best-fitting denim, like you can slide on in for a perfect fit and look great doing it. But now, there is a strict linear order: The goal of an application is an interview. The goal of an interview is a second. The goal of the second interview is a third. The goal of the third is an offer. If you receive no offer, the goal is to appreciate the consolation prize of experience.

All that said, I have a phone interview with a great CPG company tomorrow. I am doing pretty well at assuming the worst and hoping for the best, but the sugarplums keep dancing on in...

p.s. Blogger has an excellent spell checker, which Lord knows, I need.

Laid Off Camp and Where I Go From Here

The genius that is my unemployment mentor, Tom said: "Give me your poor, your tired, your hopeless, your... unemployed and I will take them to Jerry Springer!" Yep, that's right kids. Laid Off Camp #1, a trip to Jerry! Jerry! Jerry! You may be wondering: how can unemployed hacks afford such fabulous entertainment? Well, I answer you: it's free. All it costs is a few moments of your time to call for tickets, and in Tom's case, an uncomfortable phone call in front of his future Notre Dame grad student cronies confirming his attendance to what? The Jerry Springer show. Thanks, Tom! I am sure the Domers understand. I met new unemployed friends, Sean and Pete, and off we went. (Tom is holding his State of IL Unemployment Security form).

I highly recommend unemployed people in Chicago to to Jerry Springer. It allows you to think: "Wow, I might have been laid off, but at least my twin sister didn't sleep with my boyfriend and then bash me over the head with the flowers he brought her." Actually, it's so clearly fake that you really end up looking around the crowd thinking: "I may be unemployed, but at least I am not showing my breasts on national television for plastic beads." No, I am not kidding. We saw boobs. Lots and lots of them.

Next week's Laid Off Camp? The Chicago Historical Museum; we think it's free on Mondays. Know someone who wants to join in the laid off fun? E-mail me. Thank Tom.

In my personal ALO journey, another disappointment. The University I interviewed with doesn't want to see me again. It kinda feels like dating. Except dating that would pay you money and provide you with career fulfillment. Ah well. They just weren't that into me.

I have, however found a great way to give of myself while actively contributing to society. It's for an organization I believe in, too. More on that later.

I continue to focus on the prepping for the GMAT but am also at setting up my passive job search avenues (hello, IABC job site). After May 7, watch out jobs, I am on the aggressive hunt, roaring like a tiger with a thorn in its paw.

Happy Things, Happy Friday

So, enough with the mumbly grumbly. It's been a tough week, but I am tired of feeling blue, disappointed, apathetic, etc. So, here's a list of things I am grateful for:

• Beer thirty (pictured above - if you read my last post, you will note that my father doesn't appreciate this)
• My roomie giving me a coupon for a free frozen entree (she was going to use it but decided I needed it more)
• Getting an unsolicited phone interview request from a famous CPG company (it might be in NY state, but hey, it's a step in the right direction)
• Reconnecting with far-away family members
• Getting to meet the little brother's new girlfriend (I am sure she will think I am quite classy with my Busch light)
• Having my horror story featured on a dating Web site (um, if you want the link, e-mail me or post a comment - otherwise I will spare my mother from "accidentally" clicking it)
• Having the BF work from home
• Great friends who check up on you after a crappy day (thanks, ladies - I would be LOST without you)
• Puppies! My own, and I get to see them in a few days

It sucks to be unemployed, but when you've got peeps like I do, the blows are much softer.

Bears Trade Orton for Cutler, Richgels Trades Snacks for Naps

Just found out the Bears have traded Kyle Orton (neck beard) and lots of draft picks for Jay Cutler. I am happy, even though I love Kyle Orton because:

• Now we have an actual quarterback


• We don't use our draft picks wisely anyhow


• The white Orton jersey I have been craving will be on sale in a manner of minutes

Today was not a good one for this laid off lady. Heard back from suburban company that they are looking for someone with more experience, though they did really like me. Fair enough. I'm not going to dwell on the overall negative day I've had, because that just propagates those feelings.

Great reminder from my father: "Seriously, Lis, you can't go into every interview expecting an offer. You'll kill yourself that way. Go in thinking you are getting interview experience and making new contacts." Good words, hard to do. And then he said: "Go for a run or something. And for God's sake, don't go drinking." Uh-oh, Bill suspects of my fondness of day drinking. But I had already gone for a run and ruled out the booze, so score one for me.

Well, thankfully some darling sent me lovely images of puppies to cheer me up (thanks, I woof you!) so that is how we shall conclude today. Happy, positive thoughts, cute, fluffy puppies. I will run with the big dogs again!

Sunday Night/Monday Morning

First, some cool things:

1. At Callie's wedding (most radiant, happy bride ever!) this weekend, I learned a lot of people, including people I never imagined, are reading my blog (hi! thanks!). Keep it up, pass it on and become followers (I think there is a link to the right), because then it just looks cooler AND I can become ad supported, which, you know, is good. No pressure, though - neither my mother nor boyfriend are followers.



2. I did my taxes last night and I am getting a refund large enough to support me for a month! Well, perhaps support is a strong word. It's enough to keep me afloat. Well, afloat provided I don't really leave the house or make any purchases besides shampoo, bread and water.
   

Anyway, on to today's topic...wait...

You know what just happened? Literally as I typed this, I had a call on my phone, just numbers, not a saved contact, and my heart began to flutter! "This is it," I thought. "Suburban company #1 is calling for a second round interview!" I answer excitedly (professional sounding, but with a smile in my voice): "This is Melissa..." The response: "Oh, wrong number." Click. There's an air ball for you. My bracket is shot, by the way; I don't know why I always put Xavier in my final four. Grr. But, I digress.

So I try to remain positive at all times and I am successfully proactive most of the time, but there is something about Sunday nights and Monday mornings. I think it's pretty similar to what people who have to go to work feel; that mild sadness the weekend is over, a touch of anxiety about a project running behind schedule, and the smallest bit of dread for the alarm sounding at 5:30 a.m.

Well, I get that too. But it's because I have no job to go to. I feel a mild sadness that I am not an actively contributing member of society. I get more than a touch of anxiety over my future and all its potential paths (or breakdowns). I feel a ton of dread over doing math problems or receiving a call saying "Thanks, but no thanks." Sometimes it all feels very heavy. Yesterday afternoon, even after a very productive morning, I felt nearly paralyzed. I think I know where is came from, but that was irrelevant. Action is the only way out of that slump.

So, I kicked my ass off the couch, slapped myself around a bit. Pity parties and anxiety attacks really aren't going to land me a job or admission to grad school. Went for a workout to burn off the negativity, ate a healthy broccoli snack to fuel my mind and headed to the library (oh, there are some CHARACTERS there...but I'll save that for another time), and took a practice GMAT. My scores creep upward. Seriously, creep.

Unemployment is like a dysfunctional relationship. Or a March Madness game. Highs and lows. It's easy to get comfortable being lazy or feeling like a victim, but that's not what will pull you out of the stink.

Red Pen Evolution

You know what just made my day? Well, aside from the fact it is Callie & Chad's wedding weekend and I won't be thinking about jobs, GMATs or unemployment. I just realized the same person who used to red pen my work within an inch of its life is following my blog. (Hi!)

Now, granted, I am certain with every typo and misused idiom he sees on these pages his eyes roll and he nervously clicks his red pen, only to realize he can't write on the screen, but, for some reason, it just feels good. Clearly, writing corporate documents and blogging are worlds apart, but I'm all about the transferable skills these days. Internal Comm? External Comm? To-MATE-o, To-MAT-o.

Okay, off to be pampered and coiffed for the next 48 hours. A huge congratulations to my darling and dear friend Callie and her gorgeous groom Chad. And thanks for reading, E!

Trader Joe's or Bust

I think from here on out (or, after lay off [ALO] until new employment) I am only grocery shopping at Trader Joe's. Humus for $1.79? What a deal. I guess that would not help the sales of my former company (well-respected CPG), but hey, those guys are still making money. I am not.

Money is something that is top-of-mind lately. Though I am not poor yet (thanks for the severance!), in the back of my mind there is this pesky ticking clock that keeps track of how much longer I have an income. Pair that with tax season (praying for a refund) and IRA contribution time (how am I going to do that!?!) and I think about money much for than I like.

When I was first laid off, I set aside my hurt (yea, I'm a girl, and getting laid off was emotional - I cried, okay?), and replaced it with shiny, shiny optimism that an offer would be on the table in a month's time. Well, that month is shortly expiring and I have only been on first round interviews. Though I would like to think I am dazzling enough to procure an offer after a single meeting, I am still a realist.

Everyone has been so lovely - taking me out for meals or letting me not pick up a round of drinks - for that I am grateful, although a bit, hm, perhaps shy is the word? But, it's ridiculous to keep that up, so I am brainstorming ways to cut back. Thus, Trader Joe's. And, shopping at Treasure Island is worth a go because you can make a lunch out of the samples they have. Yep, me and smelly schitzo Sam make the rounds.

All sarcasm aside, I am blessed to have a great severance package, unemployment benefits and people around me who are kind and pick up the tab now and then. But, I'd much prefer to be making money; although ,if I resort to plan "b" (no, not that trendy bar in Bucktown or the morning after pill, you silly rascals) and go to grad school full time, I think I will have to get quite used to having a hole in the dyke so to speak.

And the good news: had an interview yesterday for a position in academia. I am optimistic I will see round two. I think it's an opportunity for some great new experiences. Also, had a networking interview today with a former agency partner, and continue to be blown away by how kind and helpful people can be.

That's it for now. Time to dig into some Trader Joe's yogurt (79 cents, people!) and hit the ol' GMAT book.

Joy, Agony and Ecstacy...My Own March Madness

A year ago, I got dead last on my NCAA bracket - out of 70 or so people. Yikes. There should almost be a prize for that or something, right? Given my standings in '08 I wasn't wild about the idea of plunking down ten bones (which means a lot more as fixed income days loom) to potentially get last place again for a sport I only care about marginally. However, I was persuaded, and am happy to say I am kicking my boyfriend's ass after the second round. Wee! Now that makes bracketology fun.

So, over the weekend, I watched these college games with one interested eye and kept the other on the people around me. It's fun to see the deeply emotional reactions fans have over the tip of a ball and how they go from complete elation t despair in minutes. I am only this way in the fall and winter (BEAR DOWN!) so it's a nice reminder of the sport-viewing adrenaline rush that is to come.

What is also reminded me of is my own mental state: the phone rings with a random number (ecstasy! Could be a job lead!) and I answer (agony. It's the doctor's office.). And then it rings again, three days later, and this time, it is for an interview for a dream job (joy, elation) and then after I hang up I have a mild buzz going...until I start to panic. What if I don't get this job? What then? Am I really still unemployed? And on and on and on.

There are certainly cycles to being among the laid off. Along with the anticipation, joy, let down, despair and hope cycle, I am experiencing the new job?, MBA?, Master of Communication?, Integrated Marketing Communications? and "screw it" cycle. They are both emotionally exhausting. This latter cycle was heightened by me taking my first computer-driven practice GMAT. Four hours. And these ain't your momma's GMATs. These suckers force you to endure a computer screen glare while solving Wiley problems and writing bologna essays.

I have been in GMAT class for six weeks now, and how much better did I fare on this one from my first attempt? Ten points. Talk about missing the shot at the buzzer. And we all know I am a mental math midget, (say that ten times fast: Melissa is a mental math midget, Melissa is a mental math midget, Melissa is a mental math midget, Melissa is a mental math midget...) but I did poorly on the verbal too. There goes my #1 seed.

So, I am thinking perhaps it is time to re-evaluate my priorities? Maybe this unemployment time is a gift to study with. Ten seconds left on the clock...

Timing is Everything...and Nothing

You know, I started writing this post about the fact that I didn't work as hard as I could to find a new job this week, and how I felt guilty for it. But, you know what? That's kinda boring. So here are some things I am enjoying (enjoying?!?!) yes, enjoying, about being unemployed (and I only feel mildly guilty for them).



1. Sleeping until 8:30. Wow. I have always been a sleep slut, but this is just heavenly.

2. Reconnecting with people I lost touch with (foolishly, mostly).

3. Doing all those things I was too busy for, like going to the dentist and getting my oil changed (still working on the oil bit).

4. Feeling much less guilty not buying Streetwise or ignoring beggars on the street (hey! I'm unemployed!)

5. Being able to enjoy days outside.

6. Wearing lounge clothes all day long... (Tom says unemployed people love wearing ratty clothes).



On the flip side, I have reoccurring dreams about homeless people and serious anxiety about being unemployed, but let's touch on those un-fun topics next time, shall we? I think the lay-off emotional cycle has lots of peaks and valleys. I'll take this peak.



Heading to NYC this weekend, very excited about the change of scenery. When I come back, the re-vamped, re-amped job search continues. Because, let's face it, when push comes to shove, I'm just kind of a working-type girl.

Who ARE Those People?

A few weeks ago (before lay off , or BLO), I was working from home and my roommate Lauren came home from business travel around 3 p.m. The weather was pretty mild (a rare joy in Chicago's February) so we decided to go for a run. Along the lake, the jogging path was packed. Lauren and I wondered "Who are these people that can run in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday?"

Well, after lay off (or ALO), now I know. Now you know. They are then unemployed. Some by choice (cute, stay-at-home moms in designer jogging gear) and some like me, laid off (in old sorority t-shirts and washed-out Old Navy yoga pants). Same thing at the grocery store - midday shoppers not in work attire? Unemployed. Cruising the sale rack at the Gap on a Thursday morning? Unemployed. Drinking Busch Light Wednesday at noon while perusing the Internet? Unemployed. Okay, okay, sometimes they work from home or are taking a personal day. And, like today at the Jewel, there were plenty of people reveling in St. Patrick's Day, (Happy Birthday, brother!)at the grocery to buy beer and whiskey. I'm sure some of them (likely the ones in their first year out of college) took the day off. Others, I am sure, are like me - laid off.

In other news, I had an informational/networking interview today. It went well. Oh, yes, and I realize what a great deal Subway's $5 foot longs are. You can either have lunch and dinner or two days' lunches for $5.53 including tax.

Final note: If you do want to drink Busch Light and peruse the Internet at noon on a Wednesday, here are some humorous places to go:
www.craigslist.com ---Casual encounters is always a riot
http://stuffunemployedpeoplelike.com/ --- Scary because it's true (thanks, Tom)
http://www.fmylife.com/ --- It could always be worse
http://www.overheardintheoffice.com/ --- We've all been there

"You're Good at Being Unemployed!"

Apparently, I am good at being unemployed. I have had at least three people tell me that in the past couple days. It's always good to be good, right? Now, what they don't mean is that I am adept at lolling around watching Tool Academy reruns while spoon-feeding myself peanut butter - though the first couple days that is pretty much all I wanted to do.

I think the "good" they refer to is my aim to make something of my days. Know one person more than I knew the day prior; writing thank you notes to people who have helped me; even writ ting this blog. What I can say is that I'm not a big fan of this whole lay off situation so I am trying pretty hard to change it. Is it lame I have all of my new contacts in an excel spreadsheet? I don't know, you decide.

Interestingly enough, I keep seeing all of these things to be grateful for. For example, I have friend who had been through (and is still going through) this and showed me the way of the laid off (file for unemployment immediately!) and started Laid Off Camp (field trip this week to the Garfield Park Conservatory!). Thanks, Tom! And good pieces of advice are flooding in from every which way - sometimes overwhelming, but always appreciated. A really good reminder came from a family friend last week: Some of the people who you think will help you, won't be much help, but the people you don't know yet will. Thanks, Mr. King!

And let's not forget the simplest thing to be grateful for: it's just me. I have no mortgage, no children, no massive debt or any dependencies. I can be a pretty scrappy individual, so the fight is on.

And now...time for the GMAT homework I have been putting off. Because, even if I am good at being unemployed, I will never be good when it comes to math homework.

Week One - "This Sucks"

I have never been the type to want, for any reason, to be unemployed. I have never had the bug to be a stay-at-home mom, nor marry a millionaire and be a lady who lunches - trust me, I know people who want that very badly. The irony - they are still employed, I am not.

Okay, okay, I know. Enough with the sob story. I decided to start this blog to document this unintentional journey I am taking. The rosy side, according to my high school history teaching friend Skyler: "Ten years from now when this is all over, you will tell your kids about this and say 'That was me! I was laid off!'" Which led me to a great idea for a t-shirt:

Front: I'm a statistic.

Back: Laid off in '09.

Anyway, as everyone knows, the first thing you do when you are laid off is file for unemployment. In Illinois, this can be done pretty easily online, at http://www.ides.state.il.us/. Here's a warning: DO NOT, for any reason, hit the "back" button on your browser. It ain't pretty. Here's another warning: it asks you if you want your taxes withheld from the unemployment money. Say yes. I did not, and will have some fun next April.

All things considered I guess I am ahead of the pack. Thanks to aggressive networking by my former bosses, I actually had an interview on Tuesday. I think it went pretty well - it's a solid opportunity and hope I get a call back from them. We shall see what next week delivers.

So, how am I occupying my time? Aside from job hunting, which I do for about six hours, I:

1. Run

2. Wii fit

3. IM with my other unemployed friends and various colleagues

4. Do GMAT homework (though not as much as I should)

5. Nap

6. Play mom to my roommates

For example, here is Lauren getting ready for a date:

She was late getting home from work so Elizabeth and I picked out clothes, laid them out on the bed, advised on shoes, etc. Lauren was in the door, two sips of wine down, fresh make-up and outfit, teeth brushed and back out for her date in fifteen minutes.

Then I made dinner for Elizabeth and John.

Yep. It's exciting.

Really, in all of this I just hang my hat on a few things:

I have wonderful friends, a great family, a supportive boyfriend and a good professional network. The only other thing I could ask for? A job.

I'll get there.