I'm being social, by ignoring the people around me... so out of my way! (courtesy of The New York Times)

Walking consists of two major components: moving your feet and looking ahead. If you don’t move your feet, you stay in one place. This is called standing, or, in New York, tourism. If you don’t look ahead, you run into things, or things with the right of way run into you. This is called stupidity, or, in New York, stupidity. Over the last year and a half, many pedestrians on busy city sidewalks have decided that one major component of walking doesn’t matter anymore. Anybody care to guess which one?

When I unceremoniously left the job market in late 2008, most people still used regular cell phones. We made phone calls and sent text messages. We played that game in which a bouncing ball makes blocks disappear. Then we put the phones in our pockets and walked. We did one thing at a time, as our parents taught us, and we did it well. The trendsetters who walked among us while talking and texting were seen as oddities, and belittled mercilessly. Life was simpler then. Men held doors and tipped their hats. Women curtsied. People had, you know, jobs. Maybe I’m just remembering a New York that never was, like in a Meg Ryan movie on WE TV that you can’t turn off even though you’ve seen it 100 times, memorized all the funny parts, including the fake orgasm in Katz’s Deli, and find Billy Crystal’s hair really, really disturbing.

When I last left the employed ranks, smartphones had been around awhile. The first iPhone launched in early 2007; the first BlackBerry came along well before that. But they hadn’t gained critical mass. The fall of the economy somehow ushered in the age of the smartphone. It seems a little counter-intuitive on the face of it. Then again, what’s more American than spending money you don’t have? The smartphone also birthed a whole new breed of city pedestrian… the smartphone zombie. New York sidewalks are now overrun with reading, texting, emailing, surfing, tweeting, status-updating, app-using, video-watching, music-downloading, game-playing zombies who don’t look where they’re going.

Today’s white collar worker is used to multitasking. We juggle email and IM and Word docs and Excel spreadsheets and countless other desktop applications designed to make us more efficient. It’s necessary and expected, even though constantly switching tasks has been shown to reduce productivity. The smartphone extends the workspace to a hand-held device and anywhere someone can take it. So multitasking logically carries over too. Arriving in one piece is no longer accomplishment enough. We must get things done en route. The world won’t wait, but it is expected to stop when a smartphone zombie weaves down the sidewalk and wanders out into traffic.

I’ve seen many smartphone zombies almost die and not even realize it. They step out in front of buses and cabs. They wait to cross the street, in the middle of the street. They ride bicycles against one-way traffic without looking. I’m perfectly okay with people self-selecting themselves out of the human race. Humanity is better off if the stupid gene doesn’t reproduce. I just don’t want to be involved. More to the point, I don’t want to be inconvenienced. Too bad it’s unavoidable.

Smartphone zombies get in the way. They’re attracted to high-traffic areas, such as doorways, sidewalks, subway platforms and the tops and bottoms of escalators. Eyes glazed over, they seem to lack any awareness of the world around them, or any interest in it. And they don’t seem to understand that someone else might need to pass through the space they occupy. Or they just don’t care. I routinely have to push smartphone zombies out of the way… zombies leaning on the front door of my apartment building, zombies blocking the exit of a retail establishment, zombies lounging by the subway escalator. And when I do, it’s somehow my fault.

Change being the only constant, I expected the world to be a different place when I returned to work. How could it not be? But I thought some basic things—like walking—would remain essentially the same. The New York sidewalk slalom was treacherous enough without the smartphone zombie swarms wandering about. Now, not only do I have to look out for myself, I have to look out for the other guy too…  the guy who’s too busy harnessing technology to see the world around him.

The call went out. Maybe you saw the big “U” projected onto the Empire State Building. Maybe you heard the siren song blaring from large speakers mounted on flatbeds circling the city. Maybe you received a little note slipped into your pocket as some nondescript pedestrian brushed by on the sidewalk. RT (Russian Television) needed an unemployed person, an expert, stat, to comment on this bit of ridiculousness…

Looking for work? Unemployed need not apply

Who better than me, unofficial spokesman for the unemployed? Okay, so the call was an email. And I’m not technically unemployed at the moment. Oh yeah, and I can’t form a coherent sentence without my monkeys and their typewriters. But let’s not fuss over exactly how it all went down. I got the gist right. My blog and I were in the right place at the right time. The rest is television history.

Some employers don’t consider the unemployed for open positions. That was the story making the rounds. I wasn’t surprised to find this out. I wasn’t angry. I was, at best, slightly intrigued or, perhaps, mildly bemused. An unemployed friend posted a link on Facebook about the growing phenomenon. Anyone who’s been unemployed during a recession probably suspected this was happening. I know I did. There had to be a better reason for all the unreturned calls and emails than a simple lack of jobs. I’m not that bad of a job candidate, or am I?

Companies receive tons of resumes for every opening, many from people who aren’t remotely qualified. Separating the maybe’s from the no’s takes time and resources, both of which are in short supply these days. And let’s be realistic. Most resumes are ruled out even in a normal hiring climate; the percentage only rises during a recession. Employers can afford to be extra picky in a buyer’s market. But the short-staffed and shortsighted HR department needs a shortcut, an easy way to reduce the pile. Ruling out the unemployed is that shortcut.

Common thinking suggests someone is unemployed for a reason – they’re an undesirable employee. They don’t show up on time. They do substandard work. They wear soup-stained shirts and smell like dried cat vomit. A desirable employee would’ve found a job already, or never lost it in the first place. So failure to be employed is seen as proof that someone is unfit to be employed. I failed to win the lottery today. Does that make me unfit to win the lottery? The thinking is flawed. And any company that thinks this way is missing out.

People lose jobs for all sorts of reasons. I lost four different jobs for four different reasons, none of which had anything to do with my performance. Each of my former employers experienced some sort of financial duress and could no longer afford to pay some of its employees. People don’t find new jobs for just as many reasons as they lose jobs. During an employment crisis, one reason trumps all others: there are very few jobs.

The need to reduce the applicant pool won’t go away any time soon. Unemployment sits at 9.7%, and the ratio of unemployed to available jobs is 5 to 1. Submitting a resume is easier than ever. Ruling out unemployed applicants will continue. Companies still discriminate on the basis of race, sex, age and sexual orientation, and those practices are illegal. The unemployed can only take solace in knowing that any company that picks its employees this way isn’t worth working for. Too bad solace doesn’t pay the bills.

Host:

Tonight they have another dance… another chance. Only one can take the trophy. Who will move a little closer? Live from Washington, this is “Dancing with the Politicians.”

I’m Norm Elrod. Tonight is the semi-finals. Let’s welcome our first star.

Dancing the Political Two-Step, former Texas Congressman, Tom DeLay and his partner, his own stupidity…

Host:

Let’s hear what the judges have to say.

Judge 1:

I’ve seen some of the legends perform this dance… Kennedy, Nixon, Reagan, Clinton. And let me just say that you nailed it. The setup step – what some call the “bait” – was smooth and effortless. You took over the mic and dropped the most salacious quote I’ve heard in years. “All unemployed people want to be unemployed” is so ridiculous that people can’t help repeat it. And repeat it they will. But no Political Two-Step is complete without the walk-away. You teased us with just a vague hint of context. No elaboration… you let the meaningless words speak for themselves. That was pure magic to watch. Tom, you’re truly one of the masters.

Judge 2:

I have to agree. That was artistry in motion. The dance seemed simple in its execution, and the dancer void of a functioning brain. But that’s the uninhibited beauty you bring to it. The easier it looks, the harder it is.

Judge 3:

I felt my hips go boom, boom, boom. And then my stomach turned, a little bile came up into my throat and I tasted that tuna fish sandwich I had for lunch. But in a good way.

Host:

As we say goodnight, let’s thank everyone who makes this possible… the Republicans, the Democrats, the media and everyone who pays attention to politics rather than something useful. See you next week for our grand finale, when Tom shows us the Political Side-Step. Perhaps he’ll claim to be taken out of context. Maybe he’ll go the passive, mistakes-were-made route. Or he could simply claim to have never spoken the words. Tune in and find out.

Joe and me... like my hat? (courtesy of http://exit78.com/)

Some people like me, and some people don’t. And most couldn’t care less one way or the other about some unemployed blogger and his thoughts. That’s the way the world works. But once in a great while someone spits so much venom my way that I wonder if I wronged them in a previous life. Maybe I was Genghis Khan and he a Mongolian foot soldier I placed in charge of animal dung collection. Who can say? That was a long time ago in a faraway land, and I had a very large army to run. The task needed to be done, so I delegated. Raiding dynasties is tough enough without having to worry about the hurt feelings of some nomadic tribesman or other.

In a comment to my post “The recession is over, but high unemployment remains,” a reader named Joe makes it abundantly clear what he thinks of me and my blog. And it isn’t good. It’s actually pretty far from good. Here’s what he wrote…

your blog disgusts me plain and simple. Settling for less than you deserve? “This is a smaller step. I’m now applying for positions beneath my pay grade and skill level, even entry-level if the company is in a strong growth field”? Who do you think you are. I have an MBA myself from Sloan, yes MIT Sloan, and it’s laughable to think we are entitled to 200K annually because of a piece of paper. I used to make $400K/yr in NYC at a boutique investment firm, but was laid off a year ago.I was unemployed but settled for $80K annually in Dallas,Tx with an oil and gas firm with room to grow. Your blog is hilarious I think bc it shows your true colors. You’re a snot of an MBA like everyone else, and no you are not entitled to anything…..yes, no job is beneath you Norm.

[Note: I've added quotes to the above to distinguish my blog excerpt from his comments, and a link.]

It’s always nice to hear from one of my fans. So I thank Joe for gleaning so much about me from a blog post, applying his superior and highly valued intellect to my words and revealing my true colors to the world. I’ve been exposed as a disgusting, undeserving snot. In fact, let me take the Norm-bashing to the logical next step. Tomorrow at 3:00 pm I will stand on my fire escape in Queens – where entitled MBAs and first-generation immigrants commingle – so the world can hurl epithets and rotten fruit at me. I only ask that people aim high. Oh yeah, and no mangoes. Those things really hurt, tasty though they are.

In the meantime, since I’ve been called out on my own site, let’s examine some of Joe’s points, shall we? I have an MBA from Fordham University. Fordham is a solid school, but it’s not MIT by any stretch. That’s okay; we can’t all be as smart and modest as Joe. I’m still proud to have earned my graduate degree. I worked full-time and went to school nights for four years to get it. But at the moment, the only real proof of my investment is a piece of paper, some hefty student loans and perhaps an inflated sense of my worth in the marketplace.

The idea behind grad school was to make myself more employable. That has worked out in some ways and not in others. A graduate degree did increase my paycheck by about 40%. But in my best year that never approached six figures, let alone $200K or $400K. All MBAs don’t work at investment banks or make high salaries. Many have pursued jobs in communications, public service, non-profit or, like me, marketing, and “settled for $80K annually” or less. An $80K a year annual paycheck would be a step up for a lot of us. Does my career path and earnings history make me a sucker or a fool? Quite possibly. Maybe I should’ve grabbed my share while I could… if I could. I’ll never know. I thought it important to follow my interests where they led. The music industry tanked, so that didn’t work out so well. Nor did my degree make me any less expendable, what with my last three positions ending in layoff. That’s something I plan to work at when hired again. In the grand scheme of things, my MBA, as an investment, appears to be a wash.

As Joe delicately points out, I’m not entitled to anything. I agree. I’m not, aside from certain inalienable rights that I came up with in another previous life. Today’s world reminds me over and over, all day, everyday that nothing comes easy, lest I forget. It’s up to me to make it happen. This is part of what makes unemployment so hard to take. I feel like a skilled and capable worker who can offer value. I’m qualified for the positions I seek. My experience, education and skill set support that, but my continued unemployment refutes it. So “I’m now applying for positions beneath my pay grade and skill level, even entry-level if the company is in a strong growth field.” There’s no shame in this, though I am over-qualified.

My continued unemployment says I’m worthless, at least on bad days in my own head. Joe would probably agree. But I know where I fit, and I don’t want to sell myself short. There’s a big difference between qualified and entitled. Though both lead to disappointment in this job market. Many other people of various education levels and job histories feel the same way – disappointed. Some write blog posts to work through their issues. Some read blogs for another perspective. And some assume they know everything and lash out to mask their own insecurities and fears. At least that’s my take from reading Joe’s comments. Because one blog post, or one paragraph of comments based on assumptions and riddled with errors, can define a person.

A picture is worth a thousand cliches. (courtesy of revcowboy.files.wordpress.com)

My employer and I parted ways last October. I wasn’t blind-sided or steamrolled by the layoff, but the hit really cleaned my clock and rung my bell. The incident was unfortunate, though inevitable. With the failing economy, the company wasn’t getting the job done on either side of the ball. They were in search of an identity. Management was in the hot seat and under fire (over fire too, I suppose), but in no position to turn on the after-burners. The writing was on the wall, and something had to change. Heads rolled. It is what it is.

The company may not have been the right place for me, and I was looking to explore other options. After all, I need to feed my family and make a living… this is America, where everyone deserves a second chance. But I always gave it my all at work – 110% – leaving everything on the field and nothing on the table or to chance. I came to play, mentally prepared for each day, and worked as if it were my last. I never lost focus, and was never flat. Is it possible that I was part of the problem and not the solution? No. I’m a difference maker, have been at every company I’ve ever worked. I’m a scrappy and unselfish player, but also an impact player who can take over a game. I have great vision, owing to the eyes in the back of my head. Who does the boss call when the game is on the line? Me, the go-to guy, the team player who can carry the team on his shoulders. I’m a proven winner, the real deal. Former employers can’t say enough about me. I may bring a lot to the table, but I’m only human; I’m only one man. My last company was missing some other pieces of the puzzle. They needed to circle the wagons, take stock and get back on track.

I’m not pointing fingers. In the end, my boss did what was best for the team. I tip my hat to him for making a difficult decision at a difficult time; he didn’t want to dig himself a deeper hole. In the end, I can really only blame myself – the man in the mirror – for not taking my game to the next level. Mistakes may have been made. Ultimately continued employment just wasn’t meant to be, nor was it in the cards, stars or offing or written in the sky. I learned a lot in my time with the company and made a lot of friends. I can hold my head high, knowing I did my best. But the time had come to move on, hopefully to greener pastures.

There is no “i” in “team,” or “paycheck,” which I no longer had. There is an “i” in “bills” though, which would continue to show up on my doorstep. Coming off a heartbreaking loss, what would be my next step? Could I pick myself up by my bootstraps? Could I get back in the saddle on that horse and ride, or at least lead it to water? While my job loss was a bitter pill to swallow, I just had to put it behind me… move on with my life. Whatever mistakes were made were in the past, and I’m not here to talk about the past. This was my wake-up call. Opportunity was knocking, and I had to answer the call.

Without a job, I had room to operate and play my game, let Norm be Norm. I had a solid foundation to build on. The first step was to collect my thoughts, get my act together and put my ducks in a row. My resume had to be whipped into shape. It needed to show my mental agility and toughness, along with my depth of character, to silence all the naysayers. The next step was to go out there and execute. If I could bring my A-game while firing on all cylinders, a new job would be as good as in the bag. After all, the game is won and lost in the trenches, where the devil is in the details. I would march right down the field and score, then leave the rest up to God. I could afford to take my time, one day at a time. But I couldn’t afford to milk the clock. I didn’t have all day.

I know how to play the game. I wasn’t coming out of nowhere as a job candidate. I’d been around the block a few times, seen some things and given a lot back to the community. But events of the past year really took the wind out of the economy’s sails. There were no jobs to be had, not even as a speed merchant, field general, play maker or workhorse. Even the best in the business were having trouble navigating these difficult waters. My layoff hasn’t been all bad. It’s let me spend more time with my family and pursue other interests.

These days, I’m down but not out with my back against the wall, in a do-or-die situation behind the eight ball. Things are tough out there. It’s been a long job search journey, with nothing to show for it but an excel spreadsheet filled with notes about all the resumes I’ve submitted. New York City and its employers haven’t exactly rallied around me. Maybe they think I’m past my prime, not a wily veteran or elder statesman, but someone who doesn’t know when to quit. I feel like there’s a monkey on my back and an elephant in the room, both staring me right in the face. The ball just hasn’t bounced my way; I haven’t gotten any breaks. Sometimes that’s just how the cookie crumbles, even for the Norm Elrods of the world.

But I suppose we make our own luck and control our own destiny. So I just have to remember what got me here, dig deep, stay focused, step up and make plays and then play to win. It’s a whole new ballgame, and I will not be denied. I have a strong supporting cast, who have rallied to my side in this time of need. I’m heading in the right direction, playing with confidence and doing all the little things I need to do to win. All that matters is the final score, and the game isn’t over. Finding a job takes time. But I’m just one big play away from the promised land. To get there, I just need stick to the game plan and keep the drive alive. No one’s throwing in the towel just yet. So let’s look on the bright side and call 2009 a rebuilding year. Tomorrow is another day, and the sun will rise. Maybe I’ll find a job… that’s why we play the game.

Who’s ready for some football, and all the laughably cliched interviews that precede and follow each game? I know I am. Go Skins!

See that little light in the top right corner, way in the distance? Yeah, that's not my apartment. (courtesy of http://abodenyc.com)

It’s my ten-year New York anniversary. In July of 1999, I moved here on a day a little warmer than today. In honor of the occasion, I’m expecting a gift of tin, as tradition dictates. Aluminum would be okay too, me being the modren man, with parts made in Japan (domo arigato). eHow tells me the gift should be placed “…in a pretty aluminum bucket from a gardening store.” How quaint, I’ll have to set up the foldout white picket fence for its arrival. The gift is more likely to be a bucket than in a bucket, the City is facing a budget shortfall and further job cuts. It probably won’t even be a bucket, but something smaller and more befitting our collective state. This city dweller has no use for gardening stuff. But I could sure use a tin or aluminum can, something to gather spare change on a nearby street corner when my unemployment insurance runs out.

From a career perspective, the relationship between me and New York has been a little stormy. I held four full-time jobs that ended in layoff. I endured many more temp jobs that ended because, well, they were temp jobs. And I’ve been unemployed and engaged in a job search for a large chunk of the last decade. The total would probably amount to years if I felt like actually adding it all up. I don’t. New York is probably dissatisfied with the relationship as well, having paid more in unemployment benefits than it collected in taxes all these years.

I moved here to work in the music industry. Washington, DC – the metro area that encompasses my old suburban MD stomping grounds – didn’t offer many options to that end. And what options it did offer, I exhausted pretty quickly. My first employer out of college was a major industry trade group. This was before the onset of digital downloading, when the organization’s reputation was still largely intact. I was a full-time club DJ for awhile after that. But public venues still allowed smoking in those days, and secondhand smoke soon choked me out of that job. There may have been work at a local record store or concert promoter, but I didn’t bother. I needed to move to move ahead.

Once in New York, my path to the executive suite continued to wind among the cubicles. I found work at a music website, wrote some freelance articles and edited CD packaging at a major label. None of the jobs paid that well, but I sure got a lot of free CDs and concert tickets and some good stories to tell at parties. Nothing impresses people quite like an entertainment industry job, aside from a large pile of money, of course. And maybe a fat gold medallion, worn with a billowy shirt and leather pants.

We all know the story of the music industry these last few years – free downloads, declining CD sales, industry lawsuits. I decided a couple of layoffs ago to be open to other career options. The MBA was supposed to help with that… legitimize me as someone who could work in the “real world.” Many people think the entertainment industry is all glamor, all fun and games. It can (or at least appear to) be for the lucky few. But it isn’t for the peons who make up the other 99.5%, those not photographed climbing out of fancy cars without underwear. They work hard. And the talk show hosts who propagate the lie should be put down. Mary Hart… watch your back! You’re already in the hole, having partnered with John Tesh.

These days I’m a professional in search of a job and an industry – not what I’d envisioned for myself ten years ago. Do I second guess some of my actions over the years? Sure, sometimes. I could’ve sought work at this company or that. I could’ve networked more and kissed more (or different) ass. Do I regret my major career decision – to follow my interest and passion? No. I made an honest go of it. I followed it as far as it would take me. That’s fine. That’s life. And I won’t ever have to wonder what would’ve happened if I’d only tried.

A picture may be worth a 1000 words. But this one is actually worth 1055.

People lose their jobs everyday. It happens in good economic times and bad, in every city and town across the country. My day was eight months ago. Someone else’s was four months later or last week. Believe it or not someone was also hired on each of those days, maybe even at the exact moment I was getting canned. At least that’s what gets me out of bed in the morning, in addition to the cat pawing at my face. Every economy has some churn in its workforce, and my time will come.

All those unlucky and lucky someones are the basis for such exciting figures as the unemployment rate. If my vague memory of college Economics classes (or Economics in general) is to be trusted, unemployment should sit right around 5% in a well functioning economy. The natural rate of unemployment is the percentage of the active workforce who should be out of work and looking at any given time. Those lucky 5% change from month to month. Some lose jobs and join the unemployed ranks and others find jobs and leave. If the unemployment rate is lower, than companies and industries aren’t evolving and growing as efficiently as they should. If the rate is higher, then wages are too expensive. At least that’s the theory. These days, as we all know, the national unemployment rate sits around 9.5% and should easily push past 10% before the end of this nationwide, nay, global kerfuffle.

Unemployment numbers and theories are abstract. They look great on paper. They sound great at parties and in the media. And they read great in posts from bloggers who like to think they know what they’re writing about, and occasionally do. What makes numbers and theories scary is their meaning in the real world. Every single someone who loses a job is a real person, as is every someone who finds a job (though the ratio of unemployed to jobs is 6:1, according to NPR). Each person could be you or someone you know.

My last layoff bothered me a bit; maybe you’ve sensed the undercurrent of disappointment in one of my many unemployment tomes. But it was also kind of expected. Whenever the economy gets a little gas, whenever my employer du jour sniffles, I’m kicked to the curb. It’s part of being the new guy (last in, first out) in marketing (the first department cut). I probably deserve some of the blame too. Still the scenario is so common, there should be a word for it in the dictionary. Noah Webster, are you listening? I have a couple of additions for your book. No, no, that’s fine. Go back to being dead. I’ll talk to one of the editors…

norm [nawrm]
–verb
to be laid off repeatedly at the first sign of economic trouble.

–noun
one who is laid off repeatedly at the first sign of economic trouble.

Normian [nawr-mee-uhn]
–adjective
of or pertaining to the plight of Norm and his kind, esp. those who are laid off repeatedly at the first sign of economic trouble.

In the last eight months of job searching and bellybutton gazing via blog, other friends and acquaintances have lost jobs. And a few have found them. The lost part always bothers me. The found part makes me happy and prompts a mental note to guilt the lucky bastard into paying the next time we’re out. These are all people who, from what I can tell, are in my league. They are about as skilled in their chosen fields as I am in mine. Ergo, their job loss tells me that mine isn’t all my fault, and their hiring tells me that mine will soon follow. The employment market may be filling up with competition, but at least it’s a fair fight.

Recently two of my good friends lost their jobs. One – a high-priced lawyer with Ivy League credentials – was laid off earlier this week. He’s been fruitlessly seeking a new position for months. Another – an upwardly mobile media/entertainment exec – lost his job a few months back. He’s now spending time with his kid and slurping mediocre coffee at the local Starbucks. I consider both to be excellent at what they do; wifey and a few others fall in this category too, but they all still have jobs ([fingers crossed] no whammies, no whammies!). Both are impressive. Both have done well for themselves to date. Both are extremely smart and infinitely employable. Both should have jobs, and don’t. Their companies were even willing to let them go. Are things really that bad?

Where does this leave me… marketing professional and unemployed unemployment blogger extraordinaire? Not only are the best and the brightest out of work. So too are the even better and even brighter. I’m not in direct competition with these two friends. Both are in different fields, and one lives in another city. But I am in competition with people like them. Companies are no longer cutting the fat. They’re now cutting the muscle and bone. Do I even stand a chance? Do I even bother trying? Should I just crawl into the corner, pull my knees to my chest, pine for Econ 101, make up more words and rock back and forth until the nice men in white jackets take me away?

I don't know which sport's fans they'll cater to. Maybe jai alai, or competitive cat herding?

The Great Recession is stopping me and millions of people from finding a job. We’ve all seen the unemployment numbers, and they aren’t good. But this doesn’t seem to be keeping entrepreneurial types from opening stores in Jackson Heights. Every time one closes – which seems to be often – another pops up within a couple months. New or soon-to-be new stores are everywhere. It just occurred to me, while munching on a foot-long BMT at Subway and staring out the window at the grandiosely named “La Casa Del Internet,” that opening my own store and putting myself in charge could be this blogger’s ticket out of unemployment. Everyone else around here is doing it. Why not me?

Wifey brings up the idea periodically, usually in a half-joking manner meant to downplay that she’s also half-serious. I only gave the idea much thought once, a few years ago, when I was gainfully employed but not terribly happy about it. At that time, Jackson Heights lacked a decent coffee shop or even a Starbucks. There were plenty of places to get good coffee; Colombian bakeries make a mean cup. But there was no place to meet friends, hang out, read a book, check email or get exiled from. The idea of opening a little cafe has a certain romantic quality. It also has a major downside, as I discovered in the Slate Magazine article entitled “Bitter Brew.” The author methodically tells his story of opening up a Manhattan cafe and how it destroyed his life. That was the end of that pipe dream and the last time I seriously considered opening a store.

Maybe dismissing the idea out of hand was a little rash. I’m a reasonably bright guy, sometimes. I have an MBA and some work experience. I’ve shopped in stores. And I like money. That practically makes me William H. Macy, Joe C. Penny or one of those other department store tycoon types. Besides, three of the more difficult questions – what to sell, where to sell it and what to name the store – have been essentially answered for me.

Jackson Heights only supports certain types of businesses – hair/eyebrow salons, sports bars/chicken restaurants, hoochie mama clothing stores and 99 cent emporiums. If I can incorporate some or all of these under one roof, I’ll be assured success. Gainful employment and early retirement… here I come. The rents on 37th Ave. – the nicer shopping street – are supposedly outrageous. People on the neighborhood message board openly speculate how stores with nary a customer continue to survive there year after year. I like having kneecaps, so I’ll keep my opinions to myself. High rents on 37th Ave. mean my store would have to be on Roosevelt Ave., under the subway tracks. Elevated trains rattling my fixtures every five minutes will just class up the shopping experience anyway. And that’s more money in my pocket. Given my products and location, the store name almost doesn’t matter. I just have to misspell on the sign, as per neighborhood custom.

There we have it… Norm’s Hair and Ibrow Salon Chickon Sport Bar 99 Cent Hoochie Mama Boutick Emporiam is born. I may need a double storefront to accomodate the sign; I’ll have to look into that. Everything will sell for 99 cents, or some multiple of that. Stay tuned to Jobless and Less for info on the grand opening. You won’t want to miss it.

I might've gone with a different pair of glasses.

My music taste is all over the map. It has been ever since Dad brought home a U2 album way back in 1984, forcing me to realize that everything else I liked sucked. Much of my collection falls in one of the following categories…

• depressing, suicide-inducing, singer-songwriter stuff
• droney, feedback-laden guitar rock
• poppy poppiness with poignant lyrics
• down-tempo, instrumental DJ fare

My taste map does miss large swaths of the music landscape. Polka, for example, is notably absent. So too is Reggaetón, though I expect to hear that damn “La Gasolina” song about 400,000 more times from passing cars by summer’s end. (Would someone please revoke Daddy Yankee‘s Jackson Heights privileges?) Despite the thousands of albums in my apartment and on my computer, one act gets an inordinate amount of airtime, 20 some-odd years after they came on the scene. Every afternoon, almost without fail, I play at least one Pet Shop Boys album.

I became a fan back in my mullet days, cruising the suburbs in an orange Chevy Citation blasting “West End Girls” and “Opportunities.” The subtext of the album  eluded me completely; I was in high school and apparently a little sheltered. Most non-gay suburbanites moved on when the act’s mainstream popularity waned in the early 90s, but not me. Still oblivious to their music’s major theme, I continued to buy everything they put out. The music – lush, layered and perfect for driving under the streetlights with the windows down – just moved me.

For what it’s worth, I figured out what they were singing about some time in the early 1990s, probably around when they covered the gay anthem “Go West.” I felt a little stupid for not putting it together sooner. If not the lyrics, then the frequent use of harps and all male choruses probably should have clued me in somewhere along the line. In my defense, the early stuff is a little vague with the pronouns; they’re a lot less coy about sexuality these days. And it didn’t much matter to me one way or the other. It’s music, and I was a fan.

The Pet Shop Boys in the afternoon habit started maybe five years ago. Sick of all the CDs in my office, I brought some stuff from home, including their classic Very. One afternoon, about the time the caffeine jones usually set in, the album found its way into the stereo. Those first symphonic bursts jolted me out of my stupor. And then Neil Tennant started to coolly bemoan the difficulties of the gay experience. I was awake and right there with him – young and fabulous, cruising the streets of Chelsea on a Friday evening. (Oh, to be gay and in the city!) Except I wasn’t, I was still sitting at my desk facing a pile of work. But things seemed a little better. Playing it the next day, and the day after that, had the same effect.

I kept the album at work. My officemate would cheer “yes” under her breath whenever I put it on, and not out of sarcasm. She meant it, and later bought the Discography to play at home while housecleaning. I brought in other Pet Shop Boys albums to mix things up a bit. The brooding, turn-of-the-decade (80s to 90s) Behaviour became another favorite. Gaying things up got us through the long afternoons at work.

I was soon laid off from that job, and not too long after, so was my officemate. We both found other jobs pretty quickly. The office environment at my next company was a little more corporate than at the record label. And an afternoon pick-me-up mattered more than ever. I felt a little self-conscience turning to the Pet Shop Boys again. Someone might catch me rockin’ out to old keyboard music on my iPod, and I’d lose my reputation as a dude. As it turned out, nobody at this job or subsequent ones cared.

Unemployment lets me play the Pet Shop Boys whenever I want and as loud as I want. (He’s an easygoing boss.) And I do. Wifey isn’t here, and the cats don’t care. Some days it’s the newer stuff; some days I revert back to early albums. Some days the music creates a weird mashup with the ice cream man’s jingle from the street below. And some days I’m free to sing and dance around the apartment undisturbed. The obvious homosexual references no longer make me cringe at my own youthful ignorance. We were all stupid once. These days it’s all just music that makes me smile. And I’m glad to have it.

The desperate pursuit of mediocrity is what dreams are made of.

Football season has been over for weeks. Pittsburgh fans are still starting fires in trashcans, though these days it’s to keep warm, not to celebrate their team’s championship. The Washington Redskins still managed to make headlines yesterday, with the start of the free agent signing period. On the day teams begin talking to available players, the Skins went ahead and dumped large piles of money on players’ doorsteps. If only I were a player… or had a doorstep…

The team signed or agreed to terms with three sought-after free agents. The contracts will total $182 million, $72.5 of which will be guaranteed. Pro football contracts are generally not guaranteed, due to the sport’s high risk of injury. Otherwise teams would be stuck paying players who had stopped playing due to injury. And we wouldn’t want injured unemployed people collecting money now would we? That would be Robin Hood Socialism or worse, France.

The annual Redskins sweepstakes winner this year is stud defensive tackle Albert Haynesworth. The most coveted free agent signed a deal worth more than $100 million. That amount includes $41 million in guarantees – the highest amount in league history. Cornerback DeAngelo Hall agreed to a $55 million deal, with about $23 million guaranteed. He played for the Redskins half of last season after the Oakland Raiders – his former team and maybe the NFL’s most dysfunctional team – cut him for not being a team player. Offensive guard Derrick Dockery will sign for $27 million, $8.5 million of which is guaranteed. Dockery started his career in Washington before a two-year stint in Buffalo.

Congratulations to these players for taking what they can get. I would happily sign away much more than they did for much less than they’ll be paid; I’m not getting much use out of my spleen these days anyway. But this spending spree begs a couple of larger questions…

1. Why would anyone ever think education is the path to success and give up sports? (I really blew that one.)
2. Why did the team lay off 20 team employees (not players or coaches) earlier in the year if it has all this money just sitting around?

The answer to the first question is pretty easy… I was never that good of an athlete. I could catch a football, but didn’t much like getting hit. I could field a groundball and catch a throw in the dirt from third base, but was average at best with a bat. My sports career was over with high school. Education seemed to provide opportunities for me – a determination a lot of people make. Good grades and test scores, as I’ve discovered the hard way, don’t lead to financial security. They don’t even ensure employment. But running into people at full speed sure seems to. Pro athletes are receiving and signing mammoth contracts while the rest of us are losing our relatively low-paying jobs.

The laid off include rank-and-file Redskins employees. The huge contracts proffered to players make this hard to explain away. Maybe the layoffs were a PR move. Fans identify more with their team if they see it experiencing troubles similar to their own. And this builds fan loyalty, and leads to dollars down the road. Big organizations also have different budgets for different things. So staff salaries might be drawn from one pot and player salaries from another. Given that owner Dan Snyder lords over everything and can do whatever he wants, I don’t buy this explanation. A mere $1.5 million could have kept all of these people employed for another year (assuming an average annual salary of $50,000 plus another $25,000 in benefits). And that’s pocket change to moneybags Snyder.

The signings are likely designed to make money in the long run. Big-time talent gets fans excited in the off-season, driving sales of tickets and merchandise, regardless of the economy. Big-time talent wins games (at least that’s the thinking), which will excite fans and again drives sales when the economy is better. And good teams get more national exposure and more advertising revenue. In practice, the Redskins rarely get their money’s worth.

Big-time free agent signings have never made the team more than average. And that will be the case this time. Individual players get hurt and have bad seasons. Rarely if ever do they make mediocre teams into Super Bowl contenders. They just expose weaknesses in other areas. So I can look forward to disappointment when football season comes around again.

But this fan is a little pissed off for another reason. It’s not the staff layoffs, nor the high player salaries. Businesses do what they feel they have to. I understand that. What bothers me is when businesses blow smoke up my ass. The team laid off staff to save money and then turned around and overspent on free agents. Haynesworth is a great player, and was due for a payday. But even he was surprised by the offer, meaning he would have signed for a lot less. Making a huge splash like that when many of your fans are struggling makes the owner look out-of-touch. Given that he still thinks he can buy a championship through free agency, I guess that shouldn’t surprise me.

Throwing around record amounts of money at a time like this (and after laying off average people for purported financial reasons) is also disrespectful to the team’s fans. Athletes, as employees, deserve every penny someone is willing to pay them. But they’re not like the rest of us. Laid off office workers are. And this is an insult to them, and everyone else suffering through difficult times.

Thanks, Redskins, for thinking about your fans. That’s some good looking out.