"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.