Dont Mince Words

I wish I could say it’s hard to believe I’ve been out of work exactly a year today, but it’s true.  I mentally assumed, based on the economy, my age, and my salary expectations, that my job search would be long.  That’s why I immediately dubbed myself the “Layoff Lady of Leisure.”  My new “job” title was formulated to keep me in a positive mindset.  But let me tell you, I’ve worked my ass off in the last year.  My life would of been easier if I had been on the job.

I took a week off, like they tell you to do, before I hit the streets again.  Of course, my first week of freedom was overcast, so I didn’t get a tan, but I did manage to get drunk.  But drinking brought inspiration through my past experience in New York where, after the dot com crash, I went to a lot of pink slip happy hours.  This time around, I had an army of unemployed friends so we spent a lot of time finding “hardship” hours with reduced drinks and food.  So, in the last year, I’ve participated in an unknown number of happy hours where job interview stories were exchanged in between cocktails.  This got me out of the house more often and away from Tex, my dog and CSO (chief snack officer).

But a Layoff Lady of Leisure’s life isn’t all about boozing.  On average, I spent about six hours a day looking for jobs, calling about jobs, going to networking events, and other self-pimping activities.  I applied for approximately 727 jobs nationwide and had 44 interviews.  The interviews, like dating in Los Angeles, became a source of good material.  For instance, I actually got the “What do you see yourself doing in five years” question.  Yeah, novice interviewers are fun.  I refrained from saying “I see myself going through menopause.”  I had better interview questions when I auditioned for “The Apprentice.”

Most people, when they are laid off, secretly say “Now I finally have the time to do ____.”  My fill-in-the-blank was pretty predictable: “finally lose those last 20 pounds.”  In addition to continuing my gym routine, I started a running program.  That lasted about two weeks when my knees gave up in protest.  I then moved to P90X and had a remote workout buddy in New York.  That routine is a great way to work on all your body parts and it isn’t intimidating like lifting weights around the hottest gay guys on earth.  In addition to this, I was going to yoga twice a week and hiking.  After my birthday, I decided to try to be a vegan as a personal challenge.  Well, the kind of vegan that doesn’t throw her leather shoes out.  I thought for sure that change would shake more pounds loose.  I added daily hiking and still wasn’t losing weight.  Armed with months of caloric data, I went to my doctor and found out if I didn’t have a thyroid problem, I would of been at my goal weight months and months ago.  Yippee.  Without the time to do all this physical and food experimentation, I probably would not of known I had a problem.  Without the Obama COBRA subsidy, I would of been uninsured and never bothered with the doctor.  It’s funny how things work out.

The rest of my “free” time has been spent productively as well.  I moved my site to WordPress.  I painted my kitchen and living room.  I organized my Twitter lists.  I networked my way to more than 500 LinkedIn contacts.  When Tex got really tired of me, I fostered another dog for him.  I read, I wrote, and I caught up on NetFlix.  I also did some less desirable things:  I sold gold for cash and withdrew part of my 401k to keep the bill collectors away… and, because we know a girl’s gotta drink.

I don’t know many people who can be out of work a year and still maintain a good attitude like me.  I’ve been through this so many times, I know the routine.  With good friends and good drinks, I can weather just about any storm.  Let’s hope the tide is changing soon.  Your Layoff Lady of Leisure is ready for a new job title.

As you get older, sometimes you change.  I’m shocked that some of my friends have become republicans or born again.  I’m happy to report that, other than my sagging boobs, I haven’t changed.

One of my unemployment projects has been ensuring all of my CDs have been ripped and added to iTunes.  Yes, even Morrissey.  The media was then going to be donated to my college radio station for a write off.

While I was going through my notebooks of CDs, I ran across some of my DJ days that my ex-boyfriend had digitized from very old 90-minute TDK cassette tapes.  I had a two-hour show at my school as well as at an all-boys college down the street that craved female talent.

I had fun listening and realized, with the exception of a few one-hit wonders, I had incredible indie/alternative musical taste, a bit of a sense of humor, and a slight accent.  Now, as I continue to listen to The Cult, Siouxsie & the Banshees, and Concrete Blonde, I can smile and know I was on to something and ahead of my time.

I shipped my notebooks back to school in a wine box sealed with Warhol-ized Jesus tape.  “I can’t wait to see what you have,” said the music director in an email.  Hopefully, he’ll see I have eclectic musical tastes and a warped sense of humor.

As of today, I’ve lived in Los Angeles seven years.  It’s not really something to celebrate more than mark the time in awe.  It has flown and yet it has stood still.  I spent the afternoon with a New Yorker that relocated three years ago.  She’s still adjusting, but mocks the place just like I do.  It’s can’t-put-your-finger-on-it weird here.  After a bottle of wine, we concluded we liked the weather.

Dating is still hard.  Finding work is harder.  I’ve got the seven-year itch.