Another day, another segue

So, I had a job interview today (hold all applause until the end, folks) and spent the rest of the day with a great old friend who is essentially a genius. She has directed some great television shows, is a gifted photographer, has an Ivy League education. She, too, is Out of Work. We did what Unemployed People do - cheap/free things. In this case, we sat in Bryant Park and watched the world go by, discussing exciting new ways to save money.

We talked at length (as good friends are known to do), and caught up on the important people in our lives. This gifted soul is out of work. This other gifted soul is miserable in her job...but is petrified to quit due to the sour market. This one just got let go. This one (oh my God, HIM?) has been out of work since last year. The stories, it seemed, were endless.

What is going on? In what country, on what planet, are some of the most incompetent schlubs (and you know who I'm talking about) sitting gainfully employed at their desks, playing computer card games, skating by whilst utilizing emoticons in business emails, and generally satisfied with status quo as long as it comes with a decent health care plan and a requisite two weeks of vacation? Meanwhile, on a seemingly epidemic level, some of the most gifted and talented folks languish in search of The Perfect Opportunity and a Greater Challenge.

I feel, at my core, there is a distinct similarity between choosing career paths and dating. (Sad but true.) There are options out there, sure. The interview I had today was one that I nailed - I almost felt bad doing so well. Like shooting fish in a barrel. It's a position at a big company with a big benefits package and, well, all the soul and interest of its bulk of male employees sporting pleated khakis and button down shirts from Gap. Available, bountiful, and flat-out boring. But there, available, and within grasp- in all of its/their instantaneous gratification glory. And as I winced while pulling out a few dollars from my wallet (THAT SHOULD GO INTO SAVINGS, DAMMIT) for a measly lemonade and salad, I had a fleeting thought:

"I could do that job. It would be *fine.* Growth opportunity, decent sized cubicle, sure. I could have a regular paycheck again within 4 short weeks. Why the hell not?"

I sat and laughed for a bit. My friend and I solved the world's problems, and came up with fabulous ideas that manifested over lemonade. A distinctly attractive gentleman walked through the park, stopping even my happily married friend in her tracks (extreme bonus points for the Ramones pin on your briefcase, sir.) Finally, I realized - you can date someone who is there, and you can take a job because they want you. And it will be fine for now. But perhaps there is something to be said for aiming at a higher rung on the ladder, something that doesn't force a sense of dread when the alarm goes off, or a date that understands that Chekov is not necessarily a Star Trek character. The search is painful, long, and tempting to abandon at almost any cost.

Just not yet. I may not be young, but apparently I'm a hopeless idealist for the time being.

Here's hoping the bounty at the end of the search pays off the expense.

Pants

During this Interregnum I thought I would take on a few home-improvement projects.

(Oh yes, Mrs. Vu and I had a baby in late summer, bought a house in early fall, and I lost the job in the winter. All during the Great Recession. Who says I don't have timing?)

I'm not really that handy, so today the plumber is here to fix an outdoor spigot. But now at least I'm not the only man in the house thoughtlessly showing his buttcrack.

As if, AS IF I needed something else to worry about.

The trusty interwebian forums confirm that due to recent upgrades in iPhone software, along with massive AT&T failures, iPhone users are not receiving some calls or voicemails.

Great.

If you need me, I'm going to go sit near a tower and pray even harder for the job of my dreams to call. IF THEY HAVEN'T ALREADY AND I JUST MISSED IT.

(Thanks to techcrunch for the link.) I am sick to my stomach.

Mantra for Friday

Today, I will clean my house...and all that implies.

Today, I will run for 5 more minutes than I did yesterday.

I will go to Pilates.

I am not going to sleep late.

I'm certainly not going to go take the September Issue of Vogue to a local coffee shop and lounge.

And I will absolutely not get sucked in to the "free manicure with pedicure" offer at the local spa.

I will not yield to the temptation of a refreshing vodka lemonade before 5 o'clock this evening.

Ok, maybe 3.

Wow, it's afternoon already?

...Amen.

Everything I Ever Needed to Know...

As I am not only a pure Diva, I'm an Optimistic Diva, and generally attempt to look on the bright side of things. For example:

As I am currently unemployed I can watch all the Project Runway I want. In real time.

As the last person I know that not only doesn't get HBO but doesn't have DVR, TiVo, Satellite Anything, and still utilizes a VCR from time to time, a constant travel schedule and a lack of cable (as dictated by my building) prevented me from viewing this fabulous show in real time the past season, which was a crime against me that I am still reeling from. But today...today. Today, Season 6 of PW starts. (And no, that is not a typo - have you HEARD Heidi Klum speak?)



Project Runway is not Reality Television. Reality Television, to me, is a skank fest dressed in gutter rubbage yielding a nation of wasteful, vapid trollops and douchebags that pollute otherwise rational minds and sully my US Weekly with stops of "Who the F--- is that?" Project Runway is a big ass Job Interview, narrated by Career Counselor Extraordinaire, Tim Gunn. Contestants show up EVERY DAY and bust themselves to get a JOB at the end. I love this idea. Best of all, most life lessons can be extracted from the show. Don't believe me? Keep reading:

"If you're going to cry, you better cry AND cut." (Pick your sorry ass up and keep going.)

"Don't bore Nina." (Get creative people. Innovate or get out of the way.)

It doesn't have to be in quotes, either. I think viewers of PW will agree with me that the show is a walking PSA, telling America to not name their children Detroit (or get that tattooed on your neck), avoid using hot glue on couture, and Quality and Talent will always win.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take my inspiration and write some cover letters. Because, after all -

"I can't want you to succeed more than you do." - Tim Gunn

The Job-Search Sidecar

The Optimistic Diva and I are snobs: wine snobs, beer snobs, foodie snobs; you name it, we can look our noses down at someone's choices.

All of which would make it particularly galling that we're pinching pennies these days were it not for the fact that we have always subscribed to the same philosophy of life that Pauline Kael brought to the movies:

"Movies are so rarely great art that if we cannot appreciate great trash we have very little reason to be interested in them."

So when I confessed to buying a more "economical" bourbon in these times of financial hardship, the OD replied, "You're unemployed, not DEAD[.]"

But I stand buy downshifting from Maker's Mark to Ezra Brooks.

Especially since it's fun to refer to it as Ezra Pound.

But let's get on to the recipe.

The Job-Search Sidecar

• 1 small clementine orange, peeled and sectioned, put a flat-bottomed, old-fashioned glass
• 1-2 tablespoons fine sugar (resist the urge to use simple syrup; the next step is much more fun)
• take a muddler and go to town on the oranges and sugar
• fill glass with ice (crushed is preferred)
• fill to brim with bourbon
• stir
• sip
• smile

Unsafe Working Conditions

For those of you that haven't left your house in a week or so (no judgment there...trust me), here is a weather update: it is bloody hot outside, particularly in the Northeast Quadrant of the US. I am talking 95F with 95% humidity and 100% chance of me sweating more than Tom Delay when he realizes he can't disenfranchise voters on Dancing With the Stars.

Anyway.

Because it is blessed hot outside, as a result, my Conference Room roasts in the hot sun all day, providing me with a less than pleasant environment in which to take calls.

"Conference Room," you say?

Impressive sounding, isn't it? It's not...it's my car. In the Yin and Yang of life, I live in a beautiful, serene place on a stunning body of water surrounded by wildlife...and the cell phone service of a CAVE. I have a great phone, I pay my bills, and still, I look at the poor dear when I'm sitting in my apartment and simply see the words "No Service." After months of trial and error, I have figured out that the upper-right-hand corner of the driveway yields lovely, clear service, just like God intended me to have. Sadly, though, if it is raining/snowing/hotter than Hades/nighttime and too buggy, this sends me INTO my automobile so I can simply have a conversation. To friends, this is funny. To job searchers, it's a nightmare.

A Potential Employer called today - and I am thanking Dior my phone was strong enough to even RECEIVE said call (rather than banish it straight to voice mail.) I grabbed my phone, ran outside (barefoot), down the sidewalk (ohmygodthat'sreallyhotneedtoremembertoputonflipflopsnexttime), into the car (phew remembered the keys), all within 3 rings! I mustered my nicest phone voice and answered, APE none the wiser.

Except it's 95 degrees out. And it was 1pm. And I have a black car. And I sat through said phone call in the oppressive conditions, because the last thing you want an HR person to hear is the sound of your car starting up when she is speaking to you. (Wow, she doesn't pay attention AND she's unsafe!) The call lasted a merciful 5 minutes, but I need to remember to take a cold drink with me to the Conference Room for Next Time. (Note to self: need to create the Conference Room Cocktail.)

First kill all ...

Just had drinks with another lawyer who is also laid off.

(Oh, did I not mention I was a lawyer? Hellz yes.

It gets worse: trial lawyer.

Yeah, that's right. Me and John Edwards.

But I never knocked up a campaign aide. Honest Injun.

[beat]

My chief of staff did take the heat for me once, though. It was just an off-color joke I made about the death of Nell Carter. He covered for me saying I felt sorry for the pallbearers.

Ancient history.)

Anyway, fellow laid-off lawyer and his fiancée just got a cat. A fucking cat. Dude, BC, I love you, but that's lame. You lost your job, not your balls. Just watch reruns of the Golden Girls and don't shave for a few weeks like the rest of us.

This just in

Clearly the Optimistic Diva and I are not the only Smart People With Nothing To Do, and, indeed, one of our best friends is also laid off.

I just got this IM from him:

"wow. Its 12:40?? Time to put on pants."

Amen.

Just *so* civilized

While The Diva lives in the "high hills of New England[,]" she's close enough to Manhattan for blue state math.

I live in Chicago's West Loop. Unemployment and fatherhood have done whatever the opposite of "wonders" is for my hygiene, etiquette, and commuting, so, even though you can hear the "guh-guh" of the city's heartbeat if you open a window, it's still a struggle to remain civilized.

But we still find ways in this house.

To wit: a photo ...

My wife calls this one "Happy Hour."

Greetings from the Bread Line

I'll start off by distinguishing myself in saying it's not that I have NOTHING to do, it's more like I have...a new set of priorities. That have been brought upon me. Without my consent.

Current realignment and reexamination of spend at my former employer (pause for gag reflex) have allowed me the opportunity to refocus my energies on my core competencies:

Day Drinking and Wise Cracking.

Which is why D-V and I are friends. Well, those aren't the only reasons, but they make for good text messaging and inappropriate emails.

I live in the high hills of New England, and unlike D-V, do not share an abode with a spouse, child, or, let's face it, civilization. But you'll hear more on that later, I'm sure. Because Dior knows I've got the free time.

Feeling Begins

Diva,

So here it is, the first post.

For the internet denizens stumbling upon our little corner of the c'fuck, The Diva and I have been friends for about a hundred years, meeting our first day of college. We're both laid off, and now we are Smart People With Nothing To Do.

I'm married with a one-year-old daughter and a wife who works from home, so she can witness exactly how much I'm drinking during the day.

Deevs, why don't you introduce yourself?

-Deja Vu