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!