Jobless and Less

Where can I get me a big boat for my next press conference?

Mission accomplished. Those two words stick in my head lately, as I speak to the world from the bow of my aircraft carrier, the USS Kitchen Table. Navy SEALs, with an assist from the CIA, recently killed public enemy number one. They put a bullet through his head and dumped his body in the North Arabian Sea. A chapter in the ongoing war against terrorism ends. Many many more remain. In other national news, this once-unemployed blogger announces his full-time employment—the death of his own biggest enemy. It remains unclear what the revelers in Times Square were celebrating that night a few weeks back.

It’s been a wild and wacky ride. I lost my last full-time job on October 31, 2008. I started Jobless and Less a few weeks later and blogged my way into the hearts and minds, or at least the bowels, of a nation. Many of my loyal readers were also unemployed, or identified with the condition of unemployment. It was—and still is—a common problem; the country’s current unemployment rate hovers around 9%. I hope that I helped a few of these readers, not to find a job (though I tried that too in a few cases), but to get through another soul-sucking, mind-numbing, gut-wrenching day. Finding work is a thankless job, without the benefit of a paycheck or even a pat on the back. It’s a grind. But the occasional chuckle or smile can brighten an afternoon just a little. And I benefited more than anyone.

On a personal level, the site gave me a reason to get up and go through it all, again and again and again. It was a way of rewarding myself for enduring another day of disappointment… a cookie for the unemployed soul. What better way to overcome being ignored than to make people pay attention? The site gave me some control in a situation where I seemed to have none. It gave me an outlet to express my frustrations, big and small. And it gave me voice.

On a professional level, the site helped me become more employable. It served as a tool to teach myself new skills and refine old skills, from Search Engine Marketing to Social Media to website and project management. I grew as a marketer, and I grew as a writer. A website about being unemployed, ironically enough, made me a better employee.

Having a full-time job is a lot harder than I remember it. The days can be long. The work is often taxing, particularly as I dust off the little-used parts of my brain. But I enjoy being engaged. And my bank account enjoys receiving paychecks. And wifey enjoys having a gainfully employed husband. And the cats enjoy, well, sleeping. What did you expect? They’re cats.

I work on websites and related projects for a huge media company, also known as the man. They control TV and radio stations, not to mention web properties of all shapes and sizes. The position came out of a friendship I developed during a freelance project last year. One day I was meeting a someone for coffee. The next day I had a job. Who knows what the future will bring?

So what happens to Jobless and Less? Do I end it right here and ride off into the sunset? Do I continue to post sporadically, as the mood hits me? Do I steer the discussion off in another direction? Or do I continue to ask questions until I actually stumble upon my point? I don’t have the answer.

There’s plenty more to write about, but fewer hours to write. And I don’t own a horse, or a sunset. Maybe these are all signs that I need to keep writing. I already have the site, even if the name no longer makes sense. One mission ends, and another begins. I just need to figure out what the new mission is.

Yeah, but can you do this in a bathroom stall, poised over a toilet? (courtesy of connect.in.com)

I’ve been looking for full-time work for about two years. My resume is up to date, and can be tweaked at a moment’s notice. My answers to commonly asked questions sit on the tip of my tongue. And my sincere smile and confident demeanor can be summoned like a spell. This job seeker is ready to interview. But sometimes the hardest part of a job interview has precious little to do with the actual meeting and everything to do with looking the part.

I’ve been freelancing for a company on-site for much of 2010. The dress code is lax—not record-company, I-can’t-believe-your-parents-let-you-out-of-the-house lax—but lax. Jeans and a t-shirt may be fine for work, but they don’t cut it for a job interview. And, of course, most interviews happen during business hours. So the aspiring full-time employee, with dreams of job security and a regular paycheck, has a choice to make. Does he wear a spiffy wool suit to work, sweating on the subway platform, itching all day and enduring the inevitable “got an interview?” question over and over? Or does he bring the suit and change in a bathroom stall? I opted for plan B one fine day this past fall.

(Continued)