Every now and then, I find myself hunched over the laptop keyboard looking like a gigantic ‘C’ from Sesame Street, inches away from the screen like I was panning for gold, wondering, “I really need to get out of the house.” Yes, part of networking is actually going out and talking to people. Email has become so impersonal that you can never have that wonderful human contact that speaks volume. When you are actually speaking to someone, they can’t hit the delete button (although, if you had the super power of mind reading, you might come across some folks who wish they did have a delete button).
So recently, I found myself at a BBQ, surrounded by folks with alcohol in hand and burgers on flowery paper plates, ready to launch my own autobiography to anyone who would listen; and hopefully they would not hit the delete key. Well, the damn Universe which I have spoken about so harshly in other post’s, was up to his old tricks again. The Universe also put an alcoholic drink in my hand as well.
Nicely played, Universe.
Well, instead of talking about possible employment or job leads, the World Cup was a captivating conversation (grown men running and kicking a ball) as well as the status of my next oil change in my truck (riveting, I know). And the evil drink that the Universe Bartender supplied me was putting me in la-la land (good ole Sam Adams).
Curse you Universe.
I know that this has to be all part of the hazing ritual from the Universe, but those patriotic beers were going down, well, like patriotic beers at a BBQ. And the next morning (actually, afternoon) I went and got the oil changed in my truck while I watched the World Cup on the TV in the ‘lounge’ (I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘lounge’ with the torn vinyl seats and last year’s Motor Trend magazine laying around but that’s what they called it). It was at that point I wish I had my own delete key.
I will see you again, Universe.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
May the beard be with you
During the course of my recent unemployment, I have sent out resumes, I have networked, I applied to volunteer, all the things one should accomplish. And lastly, I decided to grow a beard. Yeah, just like the movie Mr. Mom. Remember this classic conversation?
Ron Richardson: Yeah? Are you gonna make it all 220?
Jack Butler: Yeah. 220... 221, whatever it takes.
My decision to grow a beard was, I admit, driven by one part laziness’ and one part financially. The laziness’ was obvious. Every morning, I go to battle with the hair follicle’s that cover my face with musky smelling soap and a razor that holds five scalpel styles blades to do their work. Sure, there are always some casualties (nothing that a little toilet paper can’t heal), but morning ritual had grown stale. On the weekends I would teas my chin, not shaving until early Monday morning, giving my neck and cheek hairs some life before I mercifully hacked them down. Then, to add further punishment, I would dose them with a stinging after shave. They were not amused.
It was then, that the beard began to plot its revenge.
The beard has always wanted grow. Knowing that if I could just get through the awkward sandpaper and patchwork phase it would all work out (we won’t talk about the ‘grey’ phase). So, after conferring with the wife and kid, we all agreed to give it life. I felt reborn. I felt strong. I felt like I was giving back. The beard was all for it.
My immediate friends all had their initial opinions – from ‘must be not feeling well’, and ‘hasn’t he ever heard of Gillett?’ to ‘what the hell is that?’ and ‘is he trying to be a Civil War reenactment actor?’ but I’ll damn society and I’ll break the trend. The beard would not only enhance my fire side chat sweater but it would make me stand out amongst all the men. Goat-tees are trendy. Mustaches are too old school. And I mean like old school from the Normandy beach invasion days. Not for me.
So, the beard progressed. It became fuller and richer as did my attitude. “I am a real man” I shouted to myself, “I’m not afraid of growing a beard’. Other men sensed my cockiness and suddenly would change direction in aisles in stores or move over to another urinal.
But quite suddenly, the questions began. And just like any person who is on top, there are folks looking to knock them down. And they usually don’t have beards. I would hear things like ‘going hiking this weekend?’ and I would have to summon the energy to look at them, still with my confidence high and answer ‘no. I’m going to a butterfly exhibit with my daughter’.
Agh!
What was happening? I gave the beard life and it was now turning on me. For all the years that I sub consciously just butchered the follicles under my thought process of ‘routine’. I sensed the beard laughing at me and I needed to keep it under control. Other bearded men were on to my facade. Non bearded men still held me in esteem. I was caught in the middle. Like between an admiral beard (the big chin strap) and the Grizzly Adam’s (full on ‘can’t find your own mouth on your own face’ beard). I needed to make a decision. I could go out a buy real hiking boots and some flannel shirts or a new pack of Fuzion razors and some exfoliating soap. Me and the beard, well, we’re going to have it out.
So, the beard grew. And grew; and grew. Its fullness started to become a hazard. Its maintenance became all too consuming. Here I was giving my full beard its own life and it was starting to turn. The beard began to itch. It was at that point I dreamed about being able to scratch my face with my hind legs, like my dog, just to alleviate the discomfort; although if that were the case, I would never leave the house. I was now discovering food hidden away in tiny nooks and crannies of the beard map. The upkeep was now battling with the status, and I was growing tired.
Monday morning I wiped the steam off the vanity mirror and announced to no one in particular that I was ready to rejoin the beardless society. Ten minutes later, I surveyed the flotsam and jetsam that was floating in the pool and decided not to second guess. Too late for that! The five extra sharp Schick blades did their damage and soon I was just another guy mowing his lawn in the suburbs with white toilet paper clinging to his face. I was blending in. I was sad.
Maybe if I lived in a more rural surrounding like New Hampshire or even Colorado would my facial hair look be more approving. Hell, I would chop wood and take hikes knowing that my beard and I were joined at the cheek. With this experiment now over, I take with me the joy of having been one of them. The non societal crusaders whose lust for finely trimmed facial hair was not met with disdain or prejudice. Now, all I need to do is get out of this non beard state and find employment in a non beard free zone in the comforts of a small home town. Somewhere in the woods. Near a hiking trail.
May the beard be with you.
I really need to get out of the house.
Ron Richardson: Yeah? Are you gonna make it all 220?
Jack Butler: Yeah. 220... 221, whatever it takes.
My decision to grow a beard was, I admit, driven by one part laziness’ and one part financially. The laziness’ was obvious. Every morning, I go to battle with the hair follicle’s that cover my face with musky smelling soap and a razor that holds five scalpel styles blades to do their work. Sure, there are always some casualties (nothing that a little toilet paper can’t heal), but morning ritual had grown stale. On the weekends I would teas my chin, not shaving until early Monday morning, giving my neck and cheek hairs some life before I mercifully hacked them down. Then, to add further punishment, I would dose them with a stinging after shave. They were not amused.
It was then, that the beard began to plot its revenge.
The beard has always wanted grow. Knowing that if I could just get through the awkward sandpaper and patchwork phase it would all work out (we won’t talk about the ‘grey’ phase). So, after conferring with the wife and kid, we all agreed to give it life. I felt reborn. I felt strong. I felt like I was giving back. The beard was all for it.
My immediate friends all had their initial opinions – from ‘must be not feeling well’, and ‘hasn’t he ever heard of Gillett?’ to ‘what the hell is that?’ and ‘is he trying to be a Civil War reenactment actor?’ but I’ll damn society and I’ll break the trend. The beard would not only enhance my fire side chat sweater but it would make me stand out amongst all the men. Goat-tees are trendy. Mustaches are too old school. And I mean like old school from the Normandy beach invasion days. Not for me.
So, the beard progressed. It became fuller and richer as did my attitude. “I am a real man” I shouted to myself, “I’m not afraid of growing a beard’. Other men sensed my cockiness and suddenly would change direction in aisles in stores or move over to another urinal.
But quite suddenly, the questions began. And just like any person who is on top, there are folks looking to knock them down. And they usually don’t have beards. I would hear things like ‘going hiking this weekend?’ and I would have to summon the energy to look at them, still with my confidence high and answer ‘no. I’m going to a butterfly exhibit with my daughter’.
Agh!
What was happening? I gave the beard life and it was now turning on me. For all the years that I sub consciously just butchered the follicles under my thought process of ‘routine’. I sensed the beard laughing at me and I needed to keep it under control. Other bearded men were on to my facade. Non bearded men still held me in esteem. I was caught in the middle. Like between an admiral beard (the big chin strap) and the Grizzly Adam’s (full on ‘can’t find your own mouth on your own face’ beard). I needed to make a decision. I could go out a buy real hiking boots and some flannel shirts or a new pack of Fuzion razors and some exfoliating soap. Me and the beard, well, we’re going to have it out.
So, the beard grew. And grew; and grew. Its fullness started to become a hazard. Its maintenance became all too consuming. Here I was giving my full beard its own life and it was starting to turn. The beard began to itch. It was at that point I dreamed about being able to scratch my face with my hind legs, like my dog, just to alleviate the discomfort; although if that were the case, I would never leave the house. I was now discovering food hidden away in tiny nooks and crannies of the beard map. The upkeep was now battling with the status, and I was growing tired.
Monday morning I wiped the steam off the vanity mirror and announced to no one in particular that I was ready to rejoin the beardless society. Ten minutes later, I surveyed the flotsam and jetsam that was floating in the pool and decided not to second guess. Too late for that! The five extra sharp Schick blades did their damage and soon I was just another guy mowing his lawn in the suburbs with white toilet paper clinging to his face. I was blending in. I was sad.
Maybe if I lived in a more rural surrounding like New Hampshire or even Colorado would my facial hair look be more approving. Hell, I would chop wood and take hikes knowing that my beard and I were joined at the cheek. With this experiment now over, I take with me the joy of having been one of them. The non societal crusaders whose lust for finely trimmed facial hair was not met with disdain or prejudice. Now, all I need to do is get out of this non beard state and find employment in a non beard free zone in the comforts of a small home town. Somewhere in the woods. Near a hiking trail.
May the beard be with you.
I really need to get out of the house.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The Unemployment Fifteen.
The Unemployment Fifteen is a title for several topics. First, it is my purpose to network with at least 15 new people this month. Second, it will be my determination to send out at least 15 resumes for the next month. And thirdly, I will do my best not to gain fifteen pounds sitting in front of this evil laptop eating M&M’s (plain) and cold pizza (plain again). My quest has for networking with new folks is kinda like standing on a long line at the grocery store, eagerly waiting for another register to open. It’s all about being tactful, maybe a tad restrained, then, when the opportunity presents itself, launching a personal salvo - ‘I’m unemployed, please, talk to me!’ At that point, they will either A) reluctantly talk with you or B) call the police. I always hope for A.
As for the resumes, I have sent out about five already so I am one third of the way to my goal. That of course does not include anyone who may have glanced over my resume on one of the many online websites that I have posted to. I should probably do an inventory of just where my resumes are (Me – No, I did not post my resume on the Mary Kay site; I think you may have the wrong number. Thanks though.).
And now for the last installment of the Unemployment Fifteen, this is about hopefully not gaining fifteen pounds. Listen, I know we’ve all been there. Sitting in a non ergonomic chair with bad lighting, breathing recycled air while staring at a bunch of Excel spreadsheets that make no sense, all the while getting the 1024 x 768 pixel tan while chowing down on vending machine Snickers and Mini Muffins; and don’t forget the cube walls that surround you with their awful sterile fabric that the manufactures’ assumed would make you more productive, right?
Well, it’s the same scenario except now, I’m home. Albeit, I’m sitting in a more comfortable chair and the windows are open, but the fridge is 14 steps away and it’s located carefully next to the microwave which sits above the coffee maker. And that is only to my immediate right. If I look to my immediate left, it’s the 46 inch flat screen TV with the remotes just sitting there on the couch cushions screaming, ‘Channel 570 is SportsCenter and it’s on right now! And it’s in High Def!!’ Ouch.
This might be the Universe hazing me (Me – Universe!! You and me, we’re not done here, you hear me?!?!).
I can get through this.
The Unemployment Fifteen is a title for several topics. First, it is my purpose to network with at least 15 new people this month. Second, it will be my determination to send out at least 15 resumes for the next month. And thirdly, I will do my best not to gain fifteen pounds sitting in front of this evil laptop eating M&M’s (plain) and cold pizza (plain again). My quest has for networking with new folks is kinda like standing on a long line at the grocery store, eagerly waiting for another register to open. It’s all about being tactful, maybe a tad restrained, then, when the opportunity presents itself, launching a personal salvo - ‘I’m unemployed, please, talk to me!’ At that point, they will either A) reluctantly talk with you or B) call the police. I always hope for A.
As for the resumes, I have sent out about five already so I am one third of the way to my goal. That of course does not include anyone who may have glanced over my resume on one of the many online websites that I have posted to. I should probably do an inventory of just where my resumes are (Me – No, I did not post my resume on the Mary Kay site; I think you may have the wrong number. Thanks though.).
And now for the last installment of the Unemployment Fifteen, this is about hopefully not gaining fifteen pounds. Listen, I know we’ve all been there. Sitting in a non ergonomic chair with bad lighting, breathing recycled air while staring at a bunch of Excel spreadsheets that make no sense, all the while getting the 1024 x 768 pixel tan while chowing down on vending machine Snickers and Mini Muffins; and don’t forget the cube walls that surround you with their awful sterile fabric that the manufactures’ assumed would make you more productive, right?
Well, it’s the same scenario except now, I’m home. Albeit, I’m sitting in a more comfortable chair and the windows are open, but the fridge is 14 steps away and it’s located carefully next to the microwave which sits above the coffee maker. And that is only to my immediate right. If I look to my immediate left, it’s the 46 inch flat screen TV with the remotes just sitting there on the couch cushions screaming, ‘Channel 570 is SportsCenter and it’s on right now! And it’s in High Def!!’ Ouch.
This might be the Universe hazing me (Me – Universe!! You and me, we’re not done here, you hear me?!?!).
I can get through this.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Honesty Online
I was thinking about all the online job sites out there and was wondering if folks were truly being honest in their approach. I mean, come on, when I see what people have written about themselves you would think they could walk on water too. These walk on water folks may be honest and may be a bit presumptuous but hey, who wouldn’t be if you had done the following – streamlined, conceptualized, formulated and maybe even integrated. Yours truly used these words at one point as well. I figured these words, if nothing else, would get me the interview. Now, I’m at the point where I want people to know exactly what they are getting so I’ve tweaked my wording to the following – instead of using communicated, I’m gonna use spoke to. Instead of using incorporated, I’m gonna use attempted. Instead of using developed, I’m gonna use thought of.
Well, now that I think of it, it may be a bit too honest. Looks alot different when you write it out.
I guess it’s probably similar to online dating – you put a picture of Brad Pitt on your profile, you’re gonna get the calls. Figure out how to smooth them over once you enter the restaurant. You put a picture of the actor who portrayed Ernest in that Ernest Goes to Camp movie (that was Jim Varney for those of you keeping score at home) well, you might as well stay home and watch Ernest Goes to Camp.
Well, for your enjoyment, here is a first draft of a profile that I was considering for one of the many online job sites – I may have to twist it a bit;
Former Account Manager with Sales experience looking for an out-of-the-box thinking Ad firm that would be open to hiring someone like me. I was a graphic designer in the early 90's until the Dot Com explosion imploded (around 2001). I then went to work as an Inside Sales cube guy (to put food on the table) with future stops in Retail and Account Management. I've been a writer for the past eight years (nothing published as of yet) and would like to pursue this passion in a wonderful creative environment that loves to brainstorm. So, in summary, I would bring to the table some design experience, some writing experience, lots of people experience and an overall varied life experience (I'm also a musician for the past 25 years, playing the bass). I'm easy to get along with, I play nicely with other people and I will share (except for Gummi Bears - those are mine!). I hope this made sense and I thank you for reading.
I guess we are in ‘wait and see’ mode. In the meantime, I might as well watch Ernest Goes to Camp and pretend I’m Brad Pitt.
Well, now that I think of it, it may be a bit too honest. Looks alot different when you write it out.
I guess it’s probably similar to online dating – you put a picture of Brad Pitt on your profile, you’re gonna get the calls. Figure out how to smooth them over once you enter the restaurant. You put a picture of the actor who portrayed Ernest in that Ernest Goes to Camp movie (that was Jim Varney for those of you keeping score at home) well, you might as well stay home and watch Ernest Goes to Camp.
Well, for your enjoyment, here is a first draft of a profile that I was considering for one of the many online job sites – I may have to twist it a bit;
Former Account Manager with Sales experience looking for an out-of-the-box thinking Ad firm that would be open to hiring someone like me. I was a graphic designer in the early 90's until the Dot Com explosion imploded (around 2001). I then went to work as an Inside Sales cube guy (to put food on the table) with future stops in Retail and Account Management. I've been a writer for the past eight years (nothing published as of yet) and would like to pursue this passion in a wonderful creative environment that loves to brainstorm. So, in summary, I would bring to the table some design experience, some writing experience, lots of people experience and an overall varied life experience (I'm also a musician for the past 25 years, playing the bass). I'm easy to get along with, I play nicely with other people and I will share (except for Gummi Bears - those are mine!). I hope this made sense and I thank you for reading.
I guess we are in ‘wait and see’ mode. In the meantime, I might as well watch Ernest Goes to Camp and pretend I’m Brad Pitt.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Able, Active and Available
So, I am trying to figure out if this so called 'universe' is now just toying with me. Here I am, again, going to a meeting at the local unemployment office, and of course, it was raining. No, it was teeming. I mean, pouring (please do not say anything about an old man snoring, thank you). The scorecard should now read, Universe-2, Me-0. As you may recall, the first unemployment meeting I had (on my birthday no less) it was raining as well. Good times I tell ya, good times. It's gotta be the universe. First, like a siren baiting me to follow her (getting me out of my cube job) has now turned to challenging me (two unemployment meetings in the rain? No job leads to think of? Come on!!). I curse you universe. I will eventually have my revenge on you in the form of a job I actually like.
Anyway, back to the meeting. The local unemployment office here in the Garden State is far from garden like. The fake wood paneling and bad lighting does not give an impression of 'warmth' or a 'we would like to help you' vibe. There was about twenty of us sitting at a variety of different table sizes and bad chairs all probably wondering the same thing - God, I hope my car is still in the lot when this is done!
The mood was quiet in the room as many of the folks there kept their eyes to themselves. The wardrobe consisted of everything from suits to sweats and flip flops to shoes with tassels. Obviously there is no dress code for attending an unemployment meeting (thankfully we did not have to stand up and introduce ourselves, i.e. Hi, I'm Brian and I am Unemployed - all, Hi Brian!) The young woman who ran the orientation kept mentioning that you had to be Able, Active and Available. That to me sounded like the catch phrase for a Senior Citizen dating website. Anyway, good information was tossed out like a Pez dispenser and then we all walked briskly to see if our cars were still in the lot. Whew! That was close. But I still need to let the instructor know that as of now, I am currently Able, Active and Available. And no, I am not on a website for Senior Citizens who wish to hook up. That universe is crafty one.
Anyway, back to the meeting. The local unemployment office here in the Garden State is far from garden like. The fake wood paneling and bad lighting does not give an impression of 'warmth' or a 'we would like to help you' vibe. There was about twenty of us sitting at a variety of different table sizes and bad chairs all probably wondering the same thing - God, I hope my car is still in the lot when this is done!
The mood was quiet in the room as many of the folks there kept their eyes to themselves. The wardrobe consisted of everything from suits to sweats and flip flops to shoes with tassels. Obviously there is no dress code for attending an unemployment meeting (thankfully we did not have to stand up and introduce ourselves, i.e. Hi, I'm Brian and I am Unemployed - all, Hi Brian!) The young woman who ran the orientation kept mentioning that you had to be Able, Active and Available. That to me sounded like the catch phrase for a Senior Citizen dating website. Anyway, good information was tossed out like a Pez dispenser and then we all walked briskly to see if our cars were still in the lot. Whew! That was close. But I still need to let the instructor know that as of now, I am currently Able, Active and Available. And no, I am not on a website for Senior Citizens who wish to hook up. That universe is crafty one.
Friday, May 21, 2010
End of the week
This is the second post in my description of going through the unemployment blues (in D minor which is the saddest of all keys - Nigel Tufnel) so bear with me as I get my thoughts together.
Today is Friday and I've survived another week of not working. Well, not really, I mean, I have been working at finding work, somewhat. Let's see how the rest of my week went -
Drive daughter to school, check email, monitor Ebay account, start blog, check email, take webinar, make call to Unemployment, check email, think about starting a new post for blog, let the dog out, update Linked In account, check email, pick up daughter at school, finish post for blog. Repeat as necessary.
It's been three weeks since I was let go from the cube farm and I'm still at a standstill. I'm looking to go back to school for, of all things, copy writing (I really hope that my writing here in this blog is somewhat coherent). I find writing to be very therapeutic. Kinda like music (just ask my Fender Jazz bass). Kinda like reading (Just ask my latest paperback 'Fletch'). My thinking now is that the universe was telling me that I needed a change. And for that, I thank you universe.
Next week will bring two face-to-face meetings with the kind folks at the unemployment office and possibly more webinars. And definitely more blog posts.
I can get through this...
Today is Friday and I've survived another week of not working. Well, not really, I mean, I have been working at finding work, somewhat. Let's see how the rest of my week went -
Drive daughter to school, check email, monitor Ebay account, start blog, check email, take webinar, make call to Unemployment, check email, think about starting a new post for blog, let the dog out, update Linked In account, check email, pick up daughter at school, finish post for blog. Repeat as necessary.
It's been three weeks since I was let go from the cube farm and I'm still at a standstill. I'm looking to go back to school for, of all things, copy writing (I really hope that my writing here in this blog is somewhat coherent). I find writing to be very therapeutic. Kinda like music (just ask my Fender Jazz bass). Kinda like reading (Just ask my latest paperback 'Fletch'). My thinking now is that the universe was telling me that I needed a change. And for that, I thank you universe.
Next week will bring two face-to-face meetings with the kind folks at the unemployment office and possibly more webinars. And definitely more blog posts.
I can get through this...
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Happy Birthday
So, I celebrated my 45th birthday in grand fashion - I attended a mandatory meeting at my local State Unemployment office. Yuck. How did I get here? As I drove to the office in the pouring rain, I started to chuckle at the predicament that I was currently in. I mean, I had a job, albeit I was sitting in a cube doing, well, I really don't know, for a Fortune 5000 company. I had a nice new laptop that was blazing fast - just ask any song I downloaded from iTunes, I wore a headset for my weekly 'call campaigns', I dressed in pleated khakis and I had access to all the free coffee I could tolerate. That was then (the last week in April) this was now (the second week of May). At first, I thought, Cool!! Unemployment! I'm gonna sit around and drink umbrella drinks and wear flip flops - then the reality of the situation hit me like a ball peen hammer - Crap! I have a 30 yr fix mortgage and a kid in daycare. Time to get on the ball (so to speak).
I can get through this.
Ok, so back to my meeting - I eventually found a parking spot and soon found myself on the third floor in a small conference room surrounded by a lot of folks who didn't want to be there as well. We all watched a bad video (circa 1985 or so - could tell by the crazy hair style the narrator had) and filled out some forms. This lasted about an hour. I thought I was done. Time to go home and watch my Tivo-ed episodes of Family Guy. Ahh no. Time to get the resume in shape (still not complete). Time to fill out some online applications (fibbed a bit), Time to network (does Facebook count?). This is gonna be work.
I can get through this.
I was called the next day to attend yet another mandatory State meeting next week and this one is to be about 3 hours!! Seriously?
Ok, ok... I can get through this.
For now, being home closer to the wife and daughter beats sitting in a cube wearing a headset and pleated khakis drinking free coffee. Well, Ill take the free coffee.
I can get through this.
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