Does this make anyone else think of McDonalds? (courtesy of www.highlands-ortho.com)

Looking for a job is sort of an all-or-nothing deal. Either you find one, or you don’t. I haven’t, for seven months. There’s some comfort to be had in knowing that the job market stinks. Companies continue to layoff employees, and those hiring receive millions of resumes, even for that freelance position scraping burnt gunk off of boiler room walls with a screwdriver. Knowing may be half the battle, but it doesn’t pay the bills. There’s also some satisfaction in getting the occasional callback or interview. Validation that I’m doing something right does give me the warm fuzzies. But it too doesn’t pay the bills.

Job boards are a giant waste of time (though I did find my last job through one). At best they give a decent sense of the current job market and skills needed for a particular type of job. At worst, they help companies gather our personal information and sell it off to marketers who then spam the crap out of us. And where would I be without those more-than-obvious, less-than-useful job search tip emails? Step #1… figure out the type of job you want; step #2… apply for those jobs. I only ever respond to listings for which I’m qualified. My resume is optimized for keywords that appear in these listings. My cover letter describes why I’m the ideal candidate for the job. In my oh so humble opinion, my inquiries kick some major ass. They’re practically lethal. If you come across one in a dark alley, keep your hands in plain sight and back away slowly. And call me as soon as you can, as we will have just discovered where they all go when I hit the send button.

Still I try and try and try, or at least I did. The countless hours slaving over my (and wifey’s) laptop have given me an on again/off again case of carpal tunnel syndrome, or as I call it, “Ouch, My F**king Hand, err, Syndrome” (OMFHeS). The pain is mostly along the back of my right hand and up into the knuckles. It also sneaks around the side beneath the pinkie and up along it on bad days. OMFHeS is brought on by repetitive motion – like scrolling with the mouse track pad through endless, useless job listings and clicking on possibly interesting listings that never turn out to be. Typing doesn’t help. Using a mouse is better, but my hand still aches. The pain disappears when I’m off the computer, but it’s never far from the surface.

A few months ago, I switched up my approach to the job search. Whereas I once devoted serious time to trolling the online listings, now I barely skim the automated searches that appear to my inbox. Sorry, CareerBuilder, none of those 17 Avon positions served up in my last email actually applied, but thanks anyway. My job search is all about networking lately. Starbucks’ second quarter numbers will probably show a spike; I’m keeping half of their NYC locations in business with my informational meetings. I have the third-degree burns on my tongue and the pictures taken of me from a neighboring Starbucks to prove it.

Lucky for me employed types are willing to chat these days. Maybe they want good job search karma, should they get bounced. Maybe they like free coffee, though many don’t even let me pay. Maybe they’re attracted to my winning resume and charming personality like metal to a magnet. Alright, so it’s probably the coffee and karma. But people have been really generous with their time. I’m getting way more informational meetings than I thought I would, and learning a ton of stuff. And I’m meeting many friendly and interesting individuals. Who knew it was just a matter of asking?

There’s one serious drawback. You guessed it… OMFHeS. Shaking hands is really painful, yet unavoidable when networking. It’s how one greets another when they meet. “Hello, my name is…” [shake, shake] “I’m a marketing professional with blah, blah, blah.” In a networking environment, refusing to shake someone’s hand is akin to kicking them in the shin and cursing their mother.  It’s just not the best way to start things off. Explaining that I have OMFHeS makes me look like a weirdo. And no one likes talking to a weirdo, except when drunk in Penn Station at 3:00 a.m., waiting for the train back to Long Island. They definitely don’t want to hire a weirdo and be forced to talk with them everyday, sober, for the foreseeable future.

OMFHeS is bearable in one-on-one meetings. There’s one handshake as a greeting and another as a farewell, with 30 minutes to an hour of interesting conversation in between. Networking events – already painful for other reasons – are the worst. The two requisite handshakes are only separated by a couple minutes of conversation. And everyone there is trying to seem strong and confident (read employable), so they squeeze and shake harder. It’s all about eye contact and a firm grip. After a little while, I have to consciously try not to grimace. As mentioned before, no one wants to work with a weirdo, or for that matter, a wuss.

I’m not a wuss. Let me repeat that, for anyone who nodded off around the 800-word mark and is rejoining us now. I’m not a wuss. These, of course, are the words uttered by someone who is a wuss when faced with their wussiness. But I’m not. I played tackle football. I’ve been beaned with an 80 mph fastball. I can do a lot of pushups and crunches. But OMFHeS really hurts sometimes. And it tends to zap my confidence at the moments I need it most – first impressions. Thanks for the additional obstacle in the job search, unemployment. Next time just send the polar bear, or maybe the black smoke, out of the jungle to get me.

My wife and I, along with all my in-laws, went on a one-day cruise this past weekend, courtesy of her parents. All we had to cover were a few drinks and gratuities, which totaled about $40. For those of you keeping track at home, that’s about $40 more than I earned last week (thanks for asking). Unemployed and living large is how I roll.

The boat was so huge that when docked, New York actually has a sixth borough. It makes the USS Intrepid – the battleship come museum docked just south – look like a Happy Meal toy. We left the west side of Manhattan in early afternoon, passed the Statue of Liberty and made our way along the south coast of Long Island during the evening before circling back. There were no stops, so passengers didn’t disembark at Fire Island or anywhere to explore the local culture through its gift shops.

I’d never been on a cruise before, of any length. Aside from Love Boat episodes and stories from my wife about her other cruise experience, I didn’t know what to expect. It turns out that the weekend version is a lot different from the Love Boat or the week-long Caribbean version. For starters, Isaac‘s been replaced. I didn’t ask, but I like to think that he earned enough from Ricardo Montalban‘s tips to retire to a beach bungalow somewhere. That story is much more comforting than the likely truth – that he lost his job to someone younger and willing to work longer hours for less money. Further, travelers on the boat weren’t terribly relaxed. They seemed anxious to cram a whole week’s worth of excess into one day.

If you’re imagining a P. Diddy commercial-type scene – with everyone wearing white suits, drinking champagne and acting beautiful – then you have the wrong idea. But people definitely were there to revel in excess, spend money and have a good time. Not being much of a drinker or spender (and essentially broke anyway), the whole thing made me a little uncomfortable. I felt like I was crashing a party and everyone knew. It also made me doubt humanity’s ability to not obliterate itself from the planet (but I digress).

From an economic standpoint, the whole scene was very curious. How can people afford to spend all this money? Or is the economy really not so bad?

One possible answer is that the current financial climate reflects the public’s panic more than it does actual employment conditions. People are worried but still gainfully employed, for the most part. Weekend cruise takers are just less worried or more financially secure. Economic conditions be damned, they’re having a good time.

Another possible answer – one that jibes better with current thinking – is that these were all people who would’ve taken longer, more expensive vacations. They’re feeling the crunch, but still want some enjoyment. They opted for a weekend cruise as a mini-escape.

Still a third possibility is that Americans still have no idea how to manage their money, even when faced with tough times. So they just keep doing what they’ve been doing.

As is often the case, the answer is probably some unknowable combination of the three. Some people are worried, but willing to spend money. Some people downsized their vacations. And some people just spend freely without regard to the economic climate. Everyone feels the recession crunch differently.

Feel free to disagree, of course. The comments link is right there…