I've been working through possible metaphors for the job search. I was trying out a Christians and lions thing, but that's a little dramatic, plus, I'm Jewish. It does seem that somewhere up there, out of my sight, is a balcony full of powerful Romans, giving my resume the fatal thumbs down. "Release the big cats, centurion!" A depression metaphor is no good; Seattle isn't Flint and I'm no auto worker, though I'd happily share my Torrefazione coffee with Michael Moore should he feel like documenting my personal unemployment crisis. The camera crew can follow me to midmorning yoga classes and down to Uwajimaya for Asian groceries. That's sure to win the hearts and minds of America.

 

I tried the blogging approach as well. (For those of you that don't know the term, blogging is the process of posting your journal, in a free form and instantaneous sort of way, to the web. Web + log = blog. Check out Blogger.com) Blogging was leading to whining. "Tuesday:  the recruiter called and told me I'd been passed over again. He sent me the resume of the guy who got the job. It actually says that his goal is to add creative value to that particular company's products. Does that work? Do I really have to suck up like that?  I asked the recruiter, but being a diplomat, he avoided the question." Dangerously close to whining. Still without the detail, it's just statistics.

 

Positions pursued: 12
Recruiters called: 4
Interviews: 1
Rejections: 7.
Hours spent on Monster.com: 23

It's the Harper's Index for my job search. No whining, but boring as hell.
 
I have two pals from the last round of layoffs at that start-up who are still out of work, one since May and the other since last March. That's a good long time. When I seriously looked for work last fall, it took me about a month to find a gig. That's not so bad, really. Look at Odd Todd. That could be me. It isn't—yet.

 

Those misguided individuals who flew airplanes in to the World Trade Center blew up my job too. I was just about to sign a nine-month contract that would send me to New York in the fall and Florida in the depths of winter. A dream job, really, that full took advantage of what I already knew while still providing plenty of opportunity to learn. But the industry I was to work for took quite a hit, as did many others, and the job just of went away. I never started the gig, so it's not like I had it and lost it, but it does still bum me out. (I'm not trying to belittle anyone else's losses, which make mine look foolish. It's just another ripple, if you know what I mean.) I really wanted to do that project. I ended up doing web production work instead, just for a couple of weeks. It was fine, but since that ended, I've not know what I ought to be pursuing.

 

Maybe it all comes down to ambition or lack thereof. Folks have asked me, at various stages in my rather surprising career trajectory, what I would like to do. I've repeatedly walked away from full time employment, occasionally kicking myself for not letting that Microsoft manager hire me in 1996, but never once regretting choosing to travel across outback Australia instead. Some rather nice folks that run a business a short five minute walk from my house expressed interest in hiring me as a project manager, but my ridiculous request for four months off every year to see the world, meet interesting people, and subsequently publish a lot of nonsense about my adventures on the web, was a sticking point in the screening process. I quit a job several years back when they told me that there was no way they could give me the six weeks off they'd agreed to the previous year. I really needed to drive the AlCan (the Alaska Canada highway) with a friend. I needed to do that a lot more than I needed to answer one more phone call from a dissatisfied customer. This is always happening to me, this almost visceral need to, say, drive my car all over the Rockies instead of pursing a perfectly good gig indexing online help for Windows. Some people don't answer when the open road calls, but if I don't pick up, the road comes right up to the house and rings the bell until I come out and play. This gets in the way of full time employment. In January I was offered some perfectly decent work and what did I say? "Sorry, I'm not really done skiing yet—can I start in March?"

 

If this seems unreasonable to you, you are probably right. I only have myself to blame. Who do I think I am, after all, some trust fund kid? Some Internet millionaire? Probably. My bank account, however, won't participate in my desired lifestyle, stubbornly refusing to stock me with the modest funds I require to live without income. The contract market has seemingly shrunk, at least for a person with my somewhat esoteric and unquantifiable skills. So few employers are willing to shell out money for me to tell them what I think. So few want to fund my vanity web site or pay me to go look at stuff and maybe snap some photos. They want identifiable bang for their buck. What have I written that makes sense? What tools do I know? Programming languages? Thank god for those last two years messing around with XML or I'd not even get past the door with the technical recruiters. 

 

Truth be told, I can do just about anything and don't really mind doing it. I'd prefer not to work in retail or customer service ever again, but hey, it's just a preference. I'd just like to be working somewhere that pays me okay and doesn't drive me crazy. Oh, and it has to be a freelance gig. Contract. 1099. Dash trash. Whatever you call those jobs that aren't permanent employment so that when the road calls, I can respond that I'm not free now, but will be in July. That doesn't seem like a lot to ask, but in this job market, well, who knows? I'm starting to feel a little unsure. In the meantime, I'm trying really hard not to whine.

 

It's my own damn fault I'm not working. Plus, offers are not getting through because the open road keeps calling and tying up the line.Yeah, my job search. It's going okay, I guess.