(“Forgive me if I ramble, it all makes sense in my head.”)
I got up before “work” today and went for a walk. Not a run. There was no polar bear, cheetah or axe murderer chasing me. Just a nice stroll down the Strand and back.
It’s a standard practice for me to get up one minute before my alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m. every morning, and going for a long walk (or on alternate days, going to the gym) is a great way for me to greet the day with highly-caffeinated blood flowing through my veins.
One-half hour later I returned, made a quick breakfast, took a shower, got dressed and left for the office…
Four feet away from my front door.
My work station consists of my kitchen table, conveniently located within arm’s reach of the refrigerator and cupboards for easy access to a 2-liter of Coke Zero, Tostito’s Black Bean & Garlic Artisan chips (Costco sized!) and Sabra Hummus (again, thanks, Costco!). You can see why the early morning walk is more of a necessity than a want… Spaced in various piles around the MacBook is a menagerie of bills, partially illegible story notes, blush-inducing passwords for EVERY username/login I have, and various pens, pencils, sunglasses and other parts of my life that encroach upon my workspace, even though I KNOW I have moved them into the living room time and again (four feet away).
For those of us who have been unemployed for a certain length of time, it’s necessary to keep a semblance of a “normal” life. I have chosen to treat my days like they are work days, in by nine, out by five with a two-hour lunch. If I drank, I am sure I would subscribe to the “three martini lunch” as I discuss career tracks with other “unemployeds.” Then bitch and moan about how my boss is “dick-faced tyrant.”
Today, I applied to four jobs before 9 a.m. PST. It’s a trick I learned from a recent fellow graduate from the University of Wisconsin. She said that because most jobs these days are done through applying online and hitting send, it’s necessary to apply so that the “application” arrives on a hiring manager’s “desk” when they open their email in the morning.
Within the last four months, as the search for a job has taken on a more urgent tone (freelance and contract work have only so many charms), I have applied to approximately 200 jobs ranging from “desk assistant” for an indie producer to PR account executive and even applied to be the President, Creative for a major cable network. Who knows? I HAVE creativity. I HAVE great writing skills. I HAVE killer social skills. I HAVE a high IQ (or did once, but I’m f*cking confident of my smarts anyway, so shut it). And, I HAVE adaptability to learn new stuff.
So, WHY don’t I have a job? (A question that my mother asks a lot and is as cringe-inducing and perplexing as, “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?,” which is a topic for another day…)
Apparently, I am in that “dead zone” of un-hirablity that combines broad career experience with age.
But, I am going to persevere. I don’t have a choice. I’d rather be seen as “unemployed” and looking for a job, than not be seen at all and classified as “given up looking.”