I don’t wish I were a woman. Being a manly, guy-type creature of the male species works for me. It’s nice to have a built-in excuse for my noises, smells and propensity to stop channel surfing on any sports-related event. (I actually just watched a replay of an all-star high school football game while eating dinner.) The common drawbacks, such as body hair, male-patterned baldness and a complete lack of fashion sense, don’t bother me much. And the double standards tend to net out in my favor. So why complain? But on some days – like, say, any summer day in New York City when I have to go to work or a job interview – I’d rather wear women’s clothing. It’s just cooler.

Today’s weather wasn’t that bad for July; 78 degrees and sunny, with humidity thicker than Heidi Montag in math class, is practically Fall in this part of the world. We usually get temperatures 15 degrees higher to go with our atmospheric soup. But it also wasn’t suit weather. I had a job interview (yeah, me!), which meant putting on my finest (boo, me!) and hopping on the subway (again, boo, me!). The meeting seemed to go well, but my travels were less than pleasant.

A couple of my suits are dark and made of heavier fabric, perfect for all my Wall Street power lunches. A couple are light and made of lighter fabric, more suited for summer evenings sipping Mai Tais at the yacht club. Heavy or light, the bottom line is they’re all made of wool. And they’re all really, really, really, really hot. People keep telling me that wool breathes because it’s a natural fabric. It pants… maybe. Breathes… no. Wearing a wool suit in the summer is like wearing fiberglass insulation with slightly less itch. Would someone please bring back the Miami Vice look, and quick? I’ll happily embrace the feathered hair.

I opted for my favorite suit – a charcoal, pinstripe number made famous in a certain New York Times article – matched with a white button-down shirt and a blue tie. It may have been a tad conservative, though entirely appropriate for the occasion. This was a job interview, after all. I considered going with a blue-gray “summer-weight” number. But I opted to sweat out an extra half pound of water weight and not risk being under-dressed.

I managed to remain cool while waiting for and riding the 7 train. My station is above ground and attracts a nice breeze, and the train car was air-conditioned. The Grand Central station – where I transferred – was a little warm, though much more bearable than it will be as summer drags on. Subway stations are like oceans in that they maintain heat long after the weather changes. Some sort of giant fan thing circulated the air. That helped a little, until the cool-ish air mixed with the heat generated by other trains sitting in the station. I draped my jacket over my arm. Sweat began to form on my brow and drip down my shirt. My collar chafed my neck. That was the beginning of the end. I wiped myself off and boarded an uptown 4 express train for a little relief. Hopefully it would catch the uptown local 6 train I’d just missed.

The 86th St. station was much worse. I steamed for another ten minutes, until the 6 train came along to take me to 110th St. There I began walking and continued sweating. I arrived at the offices for my interview dripping. My shirt sleeves, where I’d draped my jacket, were soaked through and stuck to my arms. My hair was wet with sweat. My face was on fire from the razor burn. Oddly enough, my nerves were calm. I found a spot under a tree to cool off, without much success. Shade doesn’t relieve humidity.

But air conditioning does. A few minutes in the bathroom was enough to sponge off and become presentable. My suit jacket would cover my soaked shirt; I’d be fine as long as I kept it on. The interview seemed to go well from that point. The ride home was also infinitely more pleasant. I grabbed a downtown bus to avoid a sweaty backtrack, and transferred to a Queens-bound train at 59th St. without waiting. And then I was home, to bask in the coolness.

Today was sort of an extreme example. I don’t generally wear a suit in the summer, or at any time of year. But when working, I still have to wear slacks or khakis, a button down or polo shirt with an undershirt (can’t have those giant sweat marks) and shoes that cover my feet. Imagine how much more comfortable a breezy skirt and a light blouse would be. Maybe you don’t have to. Some sandals that let the air dance across my toes would be just divine. I’d happily paint my toenails if I could get away with flip-flops in a business environment. And what about capri pants? Aren’t these just shorts by another name? A friend from a previous job and I used to joke about wearing shorts to work and claiming they were capri pants. They’re becoming all the rage in urban areas, so maybe I’ll get my chance, under the guise of “fashion.” Until then, I’ll just have to deal with my sweaty manliness, all the while wishing I could just dress like a woman.

Linus and Pita hard at work.

Two questions have plagued pet owners for ages. What does my pet do all day while I’m at work? And am I a bad person for leaving them alone? Let’s take care of the second and easier question first. Yes, you’re a terrible person who doesn’t deserve to live. As for the first, the answer could be anything. Maybe little Mr. Snuggie Poopikins McFuzzywuzzy sits anxiously by the door all day waiting for the sound of the key in the lock. Maybe he lunches in the park, playing dominoes and drinking 40s with all the other home-alone homies in the hood. Maybe he plots against you—the unsuspecting owner—for being such a terrible person. Wouldn’t you like to know?

Lucky for everyone, I have the time and wherewithal to explore this age-old question. After seven months of intense study in my pets’ natural habitat, funded by the state of New York and a genius grant from the MacArthur Foundation, I have the answer. Pets really don’t do much of anything at all.

Wifey and I have two cats—Linus and Pita—who served as my unknowing subjects. She adopted them ten years ago as three year olds and kept the names. Who knows why or what they mean? I did figure out a few months back that PITA is an acronym for “Pain In The Ass,” which is fitting. The cats are sisters and each a little small. Both are missing teeth and like to drool, barf, meow at nothing and lick plastic. If they weren’t cats, I’d swear they were junkies.

This morning—like most mornings—the cats got up with us. Linus slept on wifey’s pillow, snuggled up against her head. Who knows where Pita was? They spent the next hour following us around and meowing. Linus wanted to be let back in the bedroom; Pita was probably just confused from huffing pilot light gas fumes. Eventually they shut up and perched themselves on windowsills to watch our preparations for the day. When wifey left, the cats started back in with the meowing.

Pretty soon they got bored. Linus retired to wifey’s desk, nestled up against the warm modem and router, and Pita to the stove top, within sniffing distance of her drug of choice. I went about my business of being unemployed. Later in the morning, Pita decided it was time to rid herself of an unsightly fur ball. Usually they head straight for a carpet or the couch—someplace where real damage can be done. But this time she made her patented “goose choking” sound and let loose on the wood floor. I cleaned it up. Linus, not to be out done, responded in kind an hour later… twice. I cleaned that up too.

Around 1:00, I went to put on my shoes, so I could go get some lunch. Linus hurried over from the kitchen windowsill, meowing as she ran. I picked her up, scratched her stomach and put her down. When she tried to run away, I picked her up again, pretended she was flying and put her down. When she tried to run away again, I picked her up again and made her dance to the Depeche Mode song on the stereo. Pita slept on the couch, on her back, paws up in the air, killing time before her next fix. I returned about a half hour later to find Linus waiting at the door and Pita where I left her.

They slept away most of the afternoon, occasionally rising to switch locations. Pita likes to sleep on, in or under things like boxes and furniture. At one point she relocated to the paper J. Crew bag that wifey left out for just that purpose. Linus climbed up on the dining room table where I was working and fell asleep, head buried in her crotch and her crotch on a New York Times picture of Eminem. I suspect Animal Planet set up the stunt beforehand.

Late in the afternoon, Pita decided to do her vocal exercises—drugged-out diva that she is—right next to my chair but just out of reach. Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow. When I finally got up to rip out her larynx, she scampered off, only to return a couple minutes later and continue. I asked her what the problem was, literally. She stopped, looked at me and walked away.

And that brings us up to this very moment. The cats are both off doing nothing, and I’m here typing. If I were in an office somewhere, they’d still be here doing nothing. They might vary it up with a quick skirmish, perhaps some staring at the wall or scratching the couch. Pita might even break into the cabinet under the sink to experiment with harder drugs… teenagers. But that’s about it. Seven months of intense study have led me to this startling conclusion. That’s some groundbreaking science. Just think what I could have accomplished in a proper work setting. So now, about the next installment of my genius grant…

[Welcome to my first guest post... pretty damn exciting. Ben is a talented and unemployed media professional looking for work in this difficult market. His article highlights some of his recent experiences, good and bad.]

Ben Breier, 23, was a reporter and web producer for the New York Observer’s Politicker.com, a political news network that suffered massive cutbacks last December. Prior to working in New York City, Ben covered climate change and energy-related issues at the federal policy level for Inside Washington Publishers, a trade publication network in Washington, DC. A graduate of Kent State University’s journalism program in 2007, Ben lives in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.

Ben can be reached at ben.breier[at]gmail[dot]com. His resume can be found here.

One of the industries hit the hardest by this recession is the media. Sharply declining ad sales and a major paradigm shift from print news to the Web have caused massive layoffs and newspaper shutdowns across the country. From paper chain Gannett’s decision to impose unpaid furloughs on its employees to the New York Times’ decision to re-lease parts of its building, media professionals are in a tight spot.

I was a political reporter working in the New York media world, and lost my job after just six months in the city. I couldn’t dive right into the job market, because companies weren’t posting any jobs around the holiday season. So I took care of my unemployment, spent the holidays at home with my family in Ohio and sunk my teeth into the job market equivalent of stringy beaver meat while doing pro-bono work for a progressive advertising network.

For the three months after that I applied for any sort of job I felt remotely qualified for, across the fields of communications and politics. In that time, I landed two interviews for identical media positions at two New York-based media corporations. Both corporations are roughly the same size, but my experiences during this job application process were very different.

My first bite – for an entry-level public relations job – came in March. To say I was excited for the opportunity would be putting it mildly. I was absolutely elated. The first interview with human resources at Company Q went swimmingly, until the HR person busted me in the gut with the harsh reality of the job market. 600 people had applied for this job, and Company Q would be interviewing 20 of them. After that, they would thin the herd to about a half-dozen applicants and begin a second wave of interviews.

But the real kicker was this: each one of the 20 potential employees had been referred to human resources via someone internally, just like I had been. Any sort of advantage I thought I had going into this job interview had gone out the window. However, there was a bright spot: HR told me there were other jobs that were not publicly advertised, as they had job requirements similar to the advertised one. The implication was that making it past the first round of interviews might lead to consideration for a similar job, even if the original job didn’t work out. HR also told me that they were looking to fill the position relatively quickly, within the period of a couple of weeks.

Eight days later, human resources at Company Q called me – and I was jubilant. I felt like I had cannonballed into a safety net; my chances of getting a job seemed very good. I would be interviewing with a pair of publicists in the media relations department in just a few days. For a moment, life was great, and it looked like I had a decent chance of lifting myself off of unemployment.

Interview number two was mostly what I expected it would be – a more in-depth description of the job’s responsibilities coupled with more pointed questions about how my previous work experience would transfer over. This interview also ended with an atomic bomb. It would be a couple of weeks until the media team would finish interviewing and determine who to bring in for a third interview, as the team was traveling the following week.

Obviously, this wasn’t good news. I couldn’t believe that Company Q was really going to have a third interview for the entry-level job. Waiting for them to reach that decision was absolute torture. The longer they took, the longer I would be on unemployment. And unemployment benefits only last so long. In this case, time was literally money, and I was starting to panic.

I attempted to touch base with the team at the end of March while they were out of New York, and was told that I was “still on the radar.” This made me feel optimistic. But time continued to pass – long after they’d returned – and a decision hadn’t been made, I grew really worried. The stress this situation put on me was out-of-body. But deep-down, I knew that these massive corporations didn’t owe me any sort of response until a decision was actually made, regardless of when that would actually be.

The three-week waiting time mentioned during my second interview was pushing six weeks. There was no word about the job. Paranoia started to take over, and I wondered if Company Q had gone with somebody else, or cut the position. I even began regularly checking the contents of my spam folder to make sure an e-mail hadn’t slipped through the cracks. I didn’t expect an immediate resolution. I just wanted to know where Company Q was in with the process. I e-mailed HR and my prospective boss about once a week, but heard nothing in return.

I reached out to HR by phone in mid-April. To my amazement, Company Q was still interviewing for the position, which wasn’t a good sign. Then they struck another massive blow: the parallel positions mentioned before had all been filled. I assumed that I wasn’t being considered for any of these jobs because I was still being considered for the primary job. My heart sank, as my safety net collapsed underneath me. At this point, I was mentally deflated and exhausted. Would each interview be as grueling and drawn-out as this one? Soon, I’d find out.

I was brought in on April Fool’s Day to interview for an entry-level public relations job at Company Z – another major media company, similar in size and scope to Company Q. My first interview again went very well. This job had many of the same requirements as the other job, and I felt I had a good chance. The human resources representative told me that she’d get back to me in about a week. I mentally scoffed, knowing my experience with Company Q.

Low and behold, Company Z got back to me with a phone call nine days later. She let me down gently, informing me that they had gone with an internal candidate. I was disappointed with the decision, but the HR representative was incredible. She told me about other jobs available at Company Z that might fit me. I applied for a couple of them, and four days later, I was scheduled to interview for one.

The day I interviewed with Company Z about potential job number two was the day that Company Q finally got around to rejecting me by e-mail. Company Q probably only rejected me because I e-mailed about the position again earlier in the afternoon. Had I not sought a response, I’d probably still be in the dark. My prospective boss at Company Q subsequently reached out to me in an empathetic and productive manner that I definitely appreciated, letting me know that my persistence was appreciated and to keep in touch with him. More jobs would become available at Company Q. Four days later, human resources at Company Q e-mailed me again to tell me I had been rejected. It was more salt in the wound.

My point isn’t to curse of praise the hiring practices of corporate America. It’s to show prospective employers what effect a lack of communication has on an unemployed candidate engaged in a desperate job search. There was a big difference between the nine days it took Company Z to get back to me and the 40 days it took Company Q to reach a decision.

Every person on unemployment is trying their hardest to beat a clock; our finite benefits will eventually expire. And to be fair, it wasn’t just the long-decision time of Company Q that sent me on a downward spiral, it was the radio silence after  Company Q told me to expect a resolution.

So, I’m ending this on two notes:

If you work in human resources or are charged with hiring and you run into delays along the way, try to keep job candidates apprised of the situation. It helps maintain an air of professionalism and keeps up your company brand – something that bigger companies should consider during this process. If the ultimate goal is to land the best employees, putting them through a painful job application process won’t make your company seem like a great place to work.

If you’re unemployed and on the hunt for a job, don’t take a delay in the process personally. If a company misses a deadline, give them a day or two before following up. I’m a firm believer that if you’re passionate about landing the job, persistence and a hint of craziness will help you achieve your goal. Just don’t become “a stalker,” like the one the Company Q HR representative vented to me about. Companies are wary of pushy personalities. Expressing keen interest in a position helps your chances. Coming off as if a prospective employer owes you something most assuredly does not.

Happy hunting, and happy hiring.

Ben can be reached at ben.breier[at]gmail[dot]com. His resume can be found here.

Share your job search experiences in the unemployment forums…

As an expert in layoff-ology and a layoff victim many times over, I have difficulty empathizing with the people doing the layoffs. But I’ve never been in their position, nor frankly thought much about their plight. I’m usually too busy saying goodbye to co-workers and packing up my stuff to worry about my boss and his feelings.

But bosses are people too – most of them, anyway. And the decision to lay off staff is often difficult or even out of their hands, or both. They still have to execute, as it were, because that is part of their job.

This morning’s New York Times has a very human article written by Matt Cooper, a vice president of Accolo, a recruitment outsourcing company, who recently had to lay off staff…

Handing Out the Pink Slips Can Hurt, Too

It’s worth a read to gain a little perspective.

If you’re unemployed, you have a good sense of the job market. But things are actually worse.  My wife sent me this Bloomberg story yesterday afternoon…

U.S. Payrolls Post Biggest Annual Drop Since 1945

This morning I saw a similar story on the front page of the New York Times…

Jobless Rate Hits 7.2%, a 16-Year High

CNN ran their version of the story while I was at the gym this morning, complete with partisan bickering. (It hurt my head just to watch, even with the volume turned down.) And I saw some homeless guy peeing on an office building wall – no doubt, his personal commentary on the state of the economy and the companies that put us here. Needless to say, this is a big story, and everybody’s talking.

Here’s the situation. The U.S. lost more than half a million jobs in December, pushing the total number of unemployed up to 11.1 million. This figure almost doubles if one counts the underemployed (part-time workers seeking more hours) and those who have given up looking. Consumers are scared, so they’re not spending money. Employers are scared, so they’re reducing payrolls to stay liquid. Norm is scared, so he continues to blog away his fears. The incoming Obama administration is eager to implement a multifaceted stimulus package, which may boost confidence immediately but will otherwise take months to show any real effects. The outgoing Bush administration has its collective thumb up its collective ass. Experts see unemployment reaching 10% in the second quarter and plateauing there until well after the recession ends.

It seems like any job search is a futile waste of time in this climate. So the question the jobless masses may be asking is, “why bother doing anything at all?” I’ll tell you why. Continuing a job search provides the chance to find something, while doing nothing leads to nothing. There are still jobs out there – maybe not good jobs or relevant jobs, but jobs. The education and healthcare fields, for example, both enjoyed modest job growth last month. It may be worth focusing your efforts there. The Economy is in a recession, meaning economic activity has slowed somewhat but not stopped altogether. Companies still need people to work.

This is also the perfect time to do all the necessary job search legwork – the stuff that reveals openings and puts you in the position to apply immediately. Here’s a list of activities that could yield results…

• Research jobs and fields of employment beyond what you’re used to.
• Create different versions of your resume and cover letter for those jobs and fields.
• Explore all the general and company-specific job boards you don’t normally use and create applicant profiles.
• Reconnect with people in your network.
• Become (or remain) active in LinkedIn, Facebook and other social networking sites to expand your network.

When the job market improves, you’ll be prepared, or already gainfully employed.

Unless you’re in dire financial straits, looking for work all day is overkill, even in a good job market. Some time would be well spent learning new skills or practicing hobbies which could theoretically lead to work. Ever wonder how writers become employed writers? You have the time and hopefully the inclination to improve yourself. And online resources are abundant and cheap (or free). This is a great time to become more employable, and expand the realm of opportunities.

A bad job market is a terrible excuse to do nothing.  But it’s a perfect opportunity to get your ducks in a row and improve your skill set.  And when the recession clears, you may find yourself in a better position than before. Turn off the news and get to work, you unemployed slacker!