Hello, is this the Kremlin? I have detained your cookies. I will eat one every ten minutes until you comply with my demands. That's right, I need spoons... lots of shiny silver spoons. (courtesy of www.ad-i.co.uk)

I will never temp again. I will never temp again. I will never temp again. That’s been my mantra after every temp assignment, dating back 12 years. And that’s what would run through my head during yoga class, were I to take yoga, or even own one of those mats everyone carries around with a smug look on their face. It’s not that every temp experience has been negative, though many have. It’s that a temp assignment feels like treading water, whereas a freelance project or full-time job feels like swimming. Both are better than unemployment, which feels like drowning.

I have another short-term temp assignment this holiday season, again courtesy of wifey’s employer. The full-time receptionist is on vacation, and I am filling in. This isn’t where I imagined myself after college, when I first manned a front desk, after grad school or even after my last layoff. But this is where I am. So I’m going with it, tail tucked firmly between my legs. If my dad can sell stereos with a PhD, I can answer phones with an MBA. Maybe my hypothetical future kid will repair Slurpee machines with an MD. Someone has to carry on the proud family tradition.

Getting up and getting out of the apartment made me feel like a normal person. Oh, how I missed the morning routine… waking to the talk radio voices on my 20-year-old clock radio, stumbling to the shower that doesn’t drain, racing for the subway in the frigid cold. Believe it or not, I couldn’t decide what to wear my first morning. All my work clothes were still in dry cleaner plastic from a year ago. Putting them on felt odd, like they didn’t fit right anymore.

I was actually a little nervous that morning too, and even the night before. What if I missed a call? What if I broke the phone system? What if I tripped over my own two feet (as I often do), spilling coffee on a computer, causing it to explode and burn down the entire building? This is my wife’s company, our household’s main source of income. Besides, what would failure say about job prospects in my field? How could I expect to find the right job if I couldn’t do this job? The question is ridiculous, of course. I’m not actively looking for receptionist work, so one has little bearing on the other. But that’s how the unemployed mind works sometimes.

Answering phones has changed a little in 15 years, but mostly in the details. People still call; I still answer. Some are friendly and chatty. Some don’t have time for anything, least of all pleasantries with a peon. Most fall in between, but closer to the friendly side. Here’s a typical exchange (receptionist humor)…

Me: Good morning, Company X

Caller: May I please speak to So and So?

Me: May I ask who’s calling?

Caller: Such and Such with Company Y

Me: One second please…

And then I transfer the call.

One difference is that people now call from cell phones, often while walking though a wind tunnel, conducting three meetings and ordering lunch. I sometimes have to wait for the caller to get around to talking to me. The calls come in waves. And when the waves of calls come, so do the messengers and visitors, ringing at the front entrance to be buzzed in. Each appears on a three-inch black-and-white security monitor next to me, looking like a perp in a police TV show. The security camera makes even old ladies and babies look like criminals, which serves them right. The busy times are late morning and mid-afternoon, usually on the hour or half hour.

The front desk is often quiet for 10 or 15 minutes at a time. This is likely because of the holidays. When not answering phones, signing for packages and pressing the door buzzer, I surf the Internet or mess around with my blog. I avoid job sites, because my monitor is out in the open and visible to passersby. We wouldn’t want visitors to get the wrong idea. When the internet gets boring, as it does when my go-to sites aren’t updating, I just stare out at the lobby. All the austere-looking marble reminds me of the lobby at a previous employer. That one is intimidating by design. This one is smaller and not at all intimidating. Sometimes wifey drops by to say hello.

Offices seem to be interconnected and interdependent. This office has its own internal patterns as well. People go to the bathroom, or at least pick up the key from the front desk, in waves. Busy times are generally around 11:00 and 3:00. (Bathroom key etiquette is complicated enough to deserve it’s own post.) I’ve settled into my own patterns. Video footage airs near the elevator banks, and I respond to the voices with random goofy comments every time I walk by. I’m strapped to a desk by a phone cord all day, so I take full advantage of my free time.

Admitting to thinking about bathroom patterns and answering random voices won’t help me find another full-time job. But it’s nice to know I’m still capable of an honest day’s work; all the unanswered job inquiries eat away at my confidence sometimes. If full-time work continues to elude me, temp work can put a little money in my pocket. It’s not ideal. It’s not a stepping stone to greatness. But it doesn’t have to be painful either, as proven these last few weeks. Treading water is much better than drowning, even if I’d rather be swimming.

Just how I like my Christmas elves... large and creepy.

After visiting the mall this weekend, I’m extra happy that temporary holiday season job at the big department store fell through. What a horrible nightmare of crowds and slush and noise. Holiday spending may be down, but holiday shopping is alive and well. As is the Queens Christmas spirit, which translates into lots of pushing and screaming and grabbing. I’m actually making a documentary about it; the working title is “Holiday Kill! Kill! Kill!” I did find a little temp work to prop up the bank account. Rather, a little temp work found me.

Wifey’s company sends out holiday gifts every year to contacts and clients. Most companies do. It’s a corporate holiday tradition to get in a little branding with the giving. Though in my experience, few companies are as classy and generous about it. They hired me to run the show, to be head elf. I was happy to oblige.

I’d forgotten what it’s like to wake up for work. Sleeping in isn’t my usual approach to weekdays. But I never have to be anywhere for anything either. My schedule is fluid and flexible, yet stuff always fills up the time. It felt oddly freeing to wake to an alarm and know that I had an hour to leave the apartment. Those with jobs may be wondering exactly what kind of crack I’ve been smoking. The 2008 model Norm would’ve asked a similar question. But unemployment is a seemingly endless series of uncertainties. Something defined and concrete frees up the brain to think about other things.

That something was putting gifts in boxes. Wifey’s employer sends out snazzy-looking hats emblazoned with the company logo. They design a new one each year. As a rule, I prefer my baseball hats to advertise for overpaid, underperforming sports teams, not corporate brands. Overexposure to crap-tastic corporate conference schwag has scarred me for life. But sports teams are just corporate brands anyway, and these hats are sharp. So what do I know? That’s right, nothing. You can say it. I know the truth, or, uh, I don’t. I’m so confused.

There were five of us to do the job. Each person was a friend or family member of a company staffer and in a similar situation – unemployed and/or cash-poor. The project was straightforward and is best presented in list form, last week’s diatribe notwithstanding…

1. Separate box tops from bottoms.
2. Put tissue paper in box bottom.
3. Put hat on tissue paper.
4. Put top on box.
5. Put bellyband on box.
6. Repeat steps 2-5 approximately 1300 times.

Some boxes got mailing labels and postage. Most didn’t. That was the extent of the project.

With our marching orders, we convened in a conference room and set about separating the boxes. The space was a little cramped, the back wall a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over much of the office. It didn’t occur to me until later that we were on full display. Within a couple hours, we filled the room with swaying stacks of box tops and bottoms. A gentle breeze would’ve toppled them all, spelling disaster for the fearless crew, or at least minor annoyance.

We didn’t talk much initially, being complete strangers and all. Nor did anyone want to make an executive decision on what online radio station to play. Group deference led us to a middle-of-the-road pop station. I’m not up on what the kids like these days, not since the end of my DJing days many years ago. So figuring out samples in songs was a fun diversion while working. One co-opted Elton John‘s “Tiny Dancer” in the name of Hip-Hop. Another put a melody over Gary Glitter‘s “Rock and Roll, Part 2” – the “Hey” song played at every sporting event ever, by law. I mentioned that the artist who recorded the original, went to jail for child pornography. Nothing like a little light trivia to break the ice and let everyone know I’m completely normal. After that, we all became fast friends, chatting about everything from Michael Jackson to AARP to hair salons. Did you know that hair stylists have to rent individual chairs in salons? I didn’t.

After separating boxes, we filled them. Two people took on tissue paper duty. Two others did hats and box tops. I did a bit of everything, from getting more supplies to breaking down boxes to hat stuffing. All the boxes were stuffed by late morning the next day, and the belly bands affixed by lunch the day after that. We hit a little snag with postage, because I miscounted the number of boxes. But that soon resolved itself.

With the boxes done, two of us stayed on to put together holiday gift bags for extra special contacts. The bags -themselves reusable shopping bags – contained some serious schwag, including fancy brownies, a cookbook, spices, a dove made of blown glass and more. All of the gifts came from companies that do something good for the world. And a booklet was included to explain what.

The work was mindless and monotonous, as assembly line-type work tends to be. My feet and lower back hurt by the second day. And a dull headache lingered throughout. But my coworkers were friendly and hardworking. And we had unlimited access to the stocked snack closet and all the holiday sweets that came through the office. I was happy to be productive, and to push back my unemployment insurance by a week. Box stuffing isn’t a career move, nor will it bolster the old resume. The experience was worthwhile though. I always think of temping as a horrible soul-sucking experience. But this time was different. I didn’t sense the least bit of condescension, maybe because they knew me already. More likely, it’s just a good company with good people. I also felt like what I was doing mattered in some small way. It’s nice to have a purpose, to be relevant again.

Ever feel like the blue robot to the world's red robot? (courtesy of http://coolrain44.wordpress.com/)

What better time to find a job than the holidays? The whole retail industry staffs up to meet the demands of the year’s busiest shopping season. More eager shoppers require more overworked sales people to serve them while wishing they could just go home. It’s a holiday maxim, as accepted as Black Friday and mall Santas and spending money you don’t have. These jobs aren’t perfect, or even desired. And they pay significantly less than my unemployment insurance. But a job is a job, if you get one. I didn’t.

My unemployment insurance will run out soon. At least I thought it would until Congress passed that extension; now I don’t know what the hell is going on. But my plan at the time was to delay the inevitable with a seasonal job at one of New York City’s many fine department stores. They’re all hiring. And seeing the throngs of shoppers up and down Fifth Ave. the other day, I can see why. Working during the holiday season – when work is available – would push back my day of unemployment reckoning. It would save me from having to find work in the dead of January.

I applied for a few seasonal positions – sales and back office – at a department store you’ve definitely heard of. They have locations all over the country, including the flagship store in Manhattan where tourists line up to look at display windows and relive scenes from movies. The smaller stores in Queens are the same as those in suburban Maryland or, presumably, anywhere. The pay would suck, but the employee discount would save me a few dollars on Christmas presents. And I’d get to experience the Christmas Season madness from the front lines. It could make for an interesting experience, provided I don’t get trampled by some present-hungry horde in search of a half-off sale. Maybe I’d even meet the real Santa Claus. I definitely have some questions for that fat hairy bastard… like why he never brought me those Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots. I mean really, Santa, WTF?

I applied for three different positions – HR coordinator and salesperson at the main Manhattan store and salesperson at a Queens store. The online application took about 40 minutes to complete and included a lengthy multiple-choice personality test. The questions attempted to gauge my suitability for dealing with the public. And here I thought one only needed a pulse. The appropriate answers were obvious and, conveniently enough, the answers I would’ve chosen anyway. Apparently I have the right stuff for retail and am not a threat to steal things or shoot up the place (file those under “good to know”). A few days later, the store invited me to interview. I was actually a little excited.

Like any good job candidate, I arrived early at the Manhattan location for my 10:30 appointment. It was unseasonably warm that day. My wool suit, which had magically shrunk since my last interview, was a little toasty. The main floor wasn’t yet decorated for the season; customers were few and far between. Having only ever visited as a shopper, and then only evenings and weekends, I was surprised to see the store so calm.

The staff elevator whisked me away to the upper reaches of the store, where the human resources email had instructed me to go. Standing among various employees, I became keenly aware of my reason for being there. With 15 years of work experience and an undergraduate and graduate degree, I was about to interview for a seasonal job in a department store that probably paid less than some of my summer jobs. My stomach dropped, and a lump formed in my throat. My career had come to this.

I exited into the bridal registry section and wandered among the plates and salad tongs and wine buckets not finding anything HR-related. A couple of salespeople chatted by a register; nobody shopped. After about ten minutes, I felt sufficiently stupid and asked for directions. Any trace of superiority or entitlement I arrived with were now officially gone. I started to wonder if I were even qualified to work in retail.

The holiday season job I didn’t want and didn’t get, part 2

The holiday season job I didn’t want and didn’t get, part 3

Unemployed and all alone. And there are wolves after me.

Money issues aside, it’s pretty easy to forget about unemployment over the holidays. There’s just so much to do. And everybody who would otherwise be working is around and, barring family commitments, willing to hang out. This year, with Christmas and New Years on Thursdays, the calendar lined up nicely. Even those who didn’t get off the last week of December had two four-day weekends in a row and possibly a couple more half days. I started to forget that my wife even had a job, other than playing Prince of Persia, that is. We got to sleep late and hang out. To quote Office Space, “I did absolutely nothing, and it was everything that I thought it could be.”

But the holidays are over, and the distractions are gone. Everyone is back to work, and here I am – at home, alone and still unemployed. The cats keep me company; they’re sort of like people – little furry people who barf a lot. I can hear the neighbors clomping around through the walls. And the occasional comment or funny link comes through on IM. But really, it’s just me here.

Putting it this way sounds so depressing, so hopeless, so pathetic – like I’m the only unemployed person on the face of the planet. This, of course, is not true; that’s what I keep telling myself. The government maintains that 6.7% of working-age adults are jobless. The percentage is probably closer to 10-11% when factoring in those who’ve stopped looking for work. And the jobless masses will likely keep growing. I encounter or hear about unemployed acquaintances all the time. Some of the people I see on the street are unemployed too. Maybe the person sitting right next to you this very moment… unless you’re reading this at work, in which case, nevermind.

The jobless are everywhere. And they’ve all got at least one problem. So things could be way worse.

Sometimes I just get to feeling sorry for myself. Us unemployed types are prone to that. It’s perfectly normal, even healthy, to wallow a little, if I keep my perspective. I got a bad break or four. But at some point feeling sorry ceases to be indulgent and just becomes counterproductive. I have to suck it up, rub some dirt on it and be a man.

I frequently go through some variation of this cycle – feeling sorry, wallowing and bucking up. It’s common enough that I recognize it happening, and know how to push through. This latest bout was mild and probably spurred by the rain and post-holiday letdown. Surfacing wasn’t hard. I just rationalized my way out of it. More severe bouts can require some effort (and junkfood) to break. Whatever works…

Looking back or looking down is much easier than looking forward. But it won’t get me anywhere. That’s also what I keep telling myself.

The holidays are officially over. Everybody’s done gone back to work and left me alone to wallow in my joblessness. At least I still have music. Sweet music, you haven’t left me, right? You’ll stay with me always. But you’re fading, getting softer. I can barely hear you. Is this the end of it all? Goodbye cruel… Oh, the song’s over. Damn you music and your trickery!

Beach House – Devotion
This is really just Mazzy Star as chamber music. I’m digging it, though I’m a little confused.

Chairlift – Does You Inspire You
I downloaded this because the song on the iPod commercial is so damn catchy. (“I tried to do handstands for you…”) Not a bad album, though that’s the best song.

Early Day Miners – Offshore
I’m sucker for any band with a morose-sounding, three-word name (Red House Painters, Great Lake Swimmers, et al). This one’s a little heavier, but does not disappoint.

Kiln – Holo [re/lux]
This is where we get into the ambient instrumental portion of our program.

Radian – Juxtaposition
A little heavier, but only like 2% milk is to skim.

Fluke – Puppy
A little heavier, like whole milk is to 2%. And add in vocals to distract me from my deep thoughts.

Radiohead – In Rainbows
This album gets just a little better each time I put it on. Given that I paid full price (they deserve my money), that’s saying something.

Businesses continue to fail in Jackson Heights. It’s sad to watch. Every walk down Roosevelt or 37th Ave. reveals a recently vacated store. Some I’m happy to see go – like all the cell phone places or the shop at my corner selling cheap umbrellas, NYC t-shirts and an assortment of useless junk. My wife and I get way more enjoyment out of speculating what businesses could fill the voids in a perfect world (New York Sports Club, Barnes & Noble, are you out there?) than we ever did out of the now-closed stores. But there are no new stores coming in, just padlocked security gates and “For Rent” signs. I’d rather have the crappy stores back.

The KB Toys on 82nd St. is in the process of closing. There’s something extra sad about a toy store going out of business. It’s downright depressing when that toy store goes out of business right after Christmas, the biggest shopping season of the year. And it’s almost suicide-inducing when you have to watch its demise – from Christmas through New Years – from your bedroom window while looking for a job yourself.

Were sales so bad that even the holidays couldn’t keep the store afloat? In a neighborhood swarming with kids, did that few parents buy presents? Did the owners just delay the inevitable long enough to make what money they could? As it turns out, the company is bankrupt and shuttering all 460 of its stores. I’ve been watching the sale signs get more and more desperate day by day. Now they’re up to “everything must go.” Before too long they’ll start selling the furniture and fixtures.

One day soon it will just be a KB Toys sign and an empty store. And that’s how it will stay, for a very long time, or at least until a mega hair/nail/eyebrow salon takes over. The toy store’s employees will venture into unemployment or, if they’re lucky, other employment. I’ll be in my apartment searching the internet for a job. And when I look out the window, I’ll see that depressing reminder of my neighborhood’s struggling economy. I’m not looking for work near where I live (yet), but it doesn’t make me excited about my prospects.

Like you may have, I spent Thanksgiving weekend with family, first my wife’s side and then mine. I ate enough food for a mammal twice my size and watched large men in pads run into each other (because that’s what America is all about).

I also talked plenty about my recent layoff and what I’m going to do next. This was problematic for many reasons, two of which stand out…

1. I’m sick of talking about my recent layoff.
2. I don’t know what I want to do next.

I’ve decided what I need is a personal elevator pitch and conversation strategy for family that satisfies their concern and interest but gets the conversation on to another topic post haste – like who mom saw at the grocery store last week. And while I don’t need this until Christmas, there’s no time like the present (get it, present) to get started. So let’s…

The first step is to go online and pilfer someone else’s instructions for how to write a personal elevator pitch. From there, nationally certified resume writer and career marketing expert Michelle Dumas recommends we ask ourselves these questions (with my adjustments)…

1. What is the focus of your search the conversation? What is your job target goal?
2. Who is the person/people most likely to make a hiring decision about you you’ll be talking to?
3. What are the problems faced by concerns of your target audience?
4. What is it that you are offering can say that would solve these problems make them think of something else?
5. What is it that differentiates you and makes you different from your peers interesting (and better than your cousin the doctor who makes six figures and saves babies everyday)?
6. What are the benefits of your work unemployment as experienced by your target audience you?

And here are the answers, or at least how to find them…

1. The conversation will likely focus on your unemployment, as news like this tends to get around in families. If the topic is something else, use your extensive conversation skills to talk about that. Since your goal is to avoid talking about your joblessness (and if you’re like me, get to the tray of Christmas cookies), you’re getting off easy this time around.
2. You’re likely talking to a family member whom you only see on holidays and other special occasions. They’ll want to catch up on what’s happened since the last time they saw you, what you’ve been doing.
3. They’re family, so I hope they’re concerned for your well-being. But they’re human and have things on their mind too – things they want to talk about and things they don’t. Pay attention for these. A topic could present itself.
4. You’re unemployed, so you have plenty of time to watch TV and keep up with current events. You have no excuse not to know who got kicked off the island or chosen for Obama’s cabinet. But keep in mind that your relative may have a job and, therefore, less time to keep up with these things. Keep your topics pretty general (as if around a water cooler) until they show some knowledge and interest. And then get more specific. These specifics will anchor the conversation and keep it from moving on to your unemployment.
5. There are plenty of things that make you interesting and worthwhile; not having a job doesn’t make you any less of a person. Maybe you’ve built shelves in the closet or read War and Peace in your extra free time. Maybe you’ve been training for the Ironman Triathlon or the World’s Strongest Man Competition (or at least watched them on TV). Focus the conversation on these things. Why you have all this extra free time will probably never be asked. As for your cousin the baby-saving doctor, he probably works 18-hour days and never sees his family, whereas you’re home all the time. Score one for you.
6. If after all this, the conversation still arrives at your unemployment, you need an answer. Unemployment gives you the opportunity to find the perfect job. Unemployment lets you re-examine your career goals. Unemployment allows you to explore your passions in search of career opportunities. Don’t dwell on the negatives, discuss the positives. A tangent will soon reveal itself and lead the conversation off in another direction.

With the answers to these questions, we have enough to come up with a solid elevator pitch and conversation strategy that satisfies their curiosity and transitions the conversation on to another topic. If all this fails, excuse yourself to the bathroom and start a conversation with someone else after.