No Holiday for the Unemployed

It’s Labor Day 2012 and many of you are enjoying the day off. For those without jobs, however, it’s a bitter reminder of what they’ve lost or can’t have—hardly a cause for celebration.

In an effort to reach across the divide, here’s something everyone can enjoy: two generations sharing their responses to a job rejection letter. (If you’ve seen this already, pass it on to someone who could use a smile.)

Gambling for a Job

ay back when, in the 1980s, I met numerous people (most of them actors) who lied in order to clinch a job. They “embellished” their computer expertise (that is, they said they knew how to operate one when they didn’t), and it worked for all of them. They acquired their computer skills successfully while on the jobs, and their organizations benefited from their employment.

This was concurrently appalling and revelatory news to me. It never occurred to me that you could pretend to be the employee the employer wanted in the interview and then become that ideal employee once in the job. It’s not in my nature to pass myself off as someone I’m not.

The job market is much tougher now and those ’80s shenanigans are harder to pull off. I wonder how many job-seekers are willing to lie if it gets them through a door. I wonder how many succeed.

I did something similar once, though I put no one except myself at risk.

I was auditioning for a small-town production of You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown and was slated to read for one of the girl parts. But I didn’t want to be a girl. I wanted to be the DOG. The director was auditioning only men for the role of Snoopy, so I knew I was not only up against worthy talent, but up against a prejudiced vision as well.

I thought long and hard about how much I wanted the role and how competitive I would have to be to win it. Was I up to the task?

I hatched a plan so antithetical to my personality that I still marvel at it: I schemed to throw my audition. I would purposely botch my reading for a girl part and finagle an audition for Snoopy, during which I had to be so sensational that no one could imagine anyone else in the role.

The first part of my plan—botching the audition—was the worst. Being a failure and seeing it reflected in the faces of an audience would be humiliating. It would knock me out of the running for all the human characters in the musical and, if the second part of my plan didn’t work, would knock me out of the show completely. What’s more, my plan was a little lean on detail. I had no idea how to wheedle that second audition. Fortunately, the director ended up relieving me of this concern.

The night of the callbacks (callbacks are the repeat auditions for a select number of actors who make the first cut—much like second and third interviews in a job hunt), after the director had seen all he intended to, he asked if anyone wanted to read for a part they hadn’t yet been asked to read for. My hand shot up.

I performed my song-and-dance routine. I gave it my all and had a great time doing it. By the time I finished, it didn’t matter anymore whether I’d changed the director’s mind or didn’t get cast. What mattered was that I had done everything in my power to attain a goal. I had lived through humiliation and stepped outside my comfort zone. I felt changed … enhanced, somehow … new.

Though searching for employment in today’s economy is soul-breaking work, I would never advise you to compromise your integrity for a paycheck. But stretching boundaries and going for a long-shot dream job? Absolutely. The preparation you’ll undergo to make others believe in you can make you believe in yourself. And that’s worth more than any job.

That’s what I thought, anyway, after auditioning for the musical. I was okay with not getting a part. But when the cast was announced, it seemed the director had reconsidered his gender-biased notion of Snoopy.

I became a long-eared pooch for an entire summer. My high-risk gamble for a job with no pay paid off.

[See more designs by Alejandro Paul.]

Here’s A Job EVERYONE’s Eligible For

I saw this on Craigslist, I think. Does our government count it as a “job created”?

I'm looking for an experienced writer interested in writing poems, articles and essays. This is a part time position and will be a 6 month contract. Respond to this post to learn more about this opportunity

**NOTE** No experienced writers welcomed

[Artist unknown—by me. Do you know?]

Desserted No More

You’ve no doubt heard the (astonishing?) news that the U.S. economy is not recovering as expected.

Even this month, just as hiring seemed to be picking up in the publishing industry, another 100 publishing professionals in a single company lost their jobs to an acquisition.

I feel for them.

This bit of “Twitter Nonfiction” tidily sums up what so many folks have experienced over the past few years:

“Monday, returning manager, white layer cake. Friday, retiring supervisor, Italian cream cake. Weekend, 23 pink slips, no cake.”
—From Creative Nonfiction magazine, by Ralphley

How sweet it isn’t.

[Majolica painted cake by JollyBe Bakery.]

Where Dark Arts and Job-Hunting Converge

ome time ago I read a job ad that was unusually well written (you knew exactly what they wanted) and even clever. It made me want to work for the hiring company. It tempted me to write to them just to express my gratitude for the standout ad. The hook was:

“Do you ___________, ___________, and know the Dark Art of pickling eggs?”

I was fairly skilled in the first ___________, would have liked to learn how to do the second ___________, but the third? I never knew pickling eggs to be a Dark Art—only a family tradition.

Next I considered applying for the position I wasn’t qualified for just to be able to write, “Indeed, I am steeped in the Dark Art of pickling eggs. My family has practiced this Rite of Spring for generations.”

In fact, I was pickling eggs just this week. ’Tis the season, after all. But it didn’t go as smoothly as I anticipated.

First, I couldn’t find my grandmother’s recipe—one of the many hazards of moving. So I placed a call to my mother.

Then, it took forever to free the eggs from their blasted shells. Once I got them into the secret rosy juice, one of them floated to the top. What did that mean?

For me, it meant calling my cuisine-expert sister for an explanation, and for advice about the shells. Why go to the Internet when you can go to family?

Sometimes, a simple task can take a village…

[The pic is from Jules Food…, where you will find a recipe for pickled eggs so that you, too, may practice a Dark Art. The drop cap is from Jessica Hische.]

Test Your Integrity

just finished reading Lit: A Memoir by Mary Karr. If you’re an aspiring poet or essayist, a lapsed church-goer or doubting Believer, a recovering alcoholic or recovering from a tragic childhood, you should read this. I don’t fall into any of those categories and I still inhaled the book, just as I did Karr’s earlier memoirs, The Liars’ Club and Cherry.

The other night as I was applying for a job online, this passage from Lit came to mind:

“I need his unbudgeable integrity. I mean, when a big-deal magazine requested changing some of his poems, he pulled them rather than compromise. I’d have typed mine backward in Urdu to see them into print.”

Some folks fudge their work history just to land the position. I’m not one of them. In fact, I probably (stupidly) err on the side of modesty about my skills and experience. So when I got to this question in the application for a university job—
How many years of clerical/administrative experience do you have working in an academic setting?
—my answer was easy: I’ve never worked in an academic setting.

Except, of course, it wasn’t easy. I had to choose from this multiple-choice list of answers:
No Response
More than 0, up through 1 yr
More than 1 yr, up through 3 yrs
More than 3 yrs, up through 5 yrs
More than 5 years

This hardly seemed like a deal-breaker question, but university applications contain all sorts of warnings about being factual and truthful and passing background checks and drug screenings and if I lie about ANYTHING at all the consequences will be yada yada yada. In truth, I HAVE worked in an academic setting if you count the time I spent teaching high-schoolers. But because the job ad stated a “scholarly” background is preferred, I assume the question refers to the college-level community. So which answer would you choose?

I selected “No Response” and continued with the process. But when I was finished, a red warning popped up telling me my application was incomplete. I had “not answered” the very question that had stumped me.

Well, technically, I guess No Response is not an answer. But why in bloody Hell is it listed and formatted as if it were? The problem isn’t my integrity; the problem is a writer’s inability to form sensible questions with appropriate multiple-choice answers.

So I selected the next answer on the list—“More than 0, up through 1 yr”—then addressed the matter (as vaguely as possible so as not to offend anyone) in my cover letter.

What would you have done?

[Drop cap by Jessica Hische.]

Heavenly Job Available: Rescue, Feed, Educate

For those of you still scouting for a job (or a better one), there’s an opening at Catskill Animal Sanctuary. The farm-animal rescue is searching for a new chef (carnivores need not apply) to: create meals for employees and special events; educate the public about vegetarian cuisine, organic gardening, and agribusiness; and provide hands-on cooking expertise through classes and a blog.

It’s the perfect animal welfare–related job for me—except for the cooking element.

So pass the word to the great chefs you know who are looking for meaningful employment and the chance to make a difference.

[Pics are from CAS.]

Dinosaurs, Primates, and Thoroughbreds: Looking for My Dream Job

While reading Gregg Levoy’s Callings: Finding and Following an Authentic Life, I realized I’ve envisioned working with animals or on their behalf since I was first asked “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Hence my application for a position at a primate sanctuary recently.

I could hardly believe my luck when I saw the ad—“No experience necessary. Will train.”

So I researched the place, got to know the residents, and crafted the perfect cover letter.

Never heard from them.

It’s just as well, probably. I was a little terrified about the pending fight for hierarchy between two generations of chimpanzees. The organization has a no-intervention philosophy that might have been difficult to stomach once the young chimps realized their power over the older alpha male.

I continue to keep an eye out for animal jobs that I’m either qualified for (precious few since I’m neither a vet tech or a fundraiser) or that won’t have me sobbing every time a new rescue is brought in. Imagine my excitement when this headline popped up:
Need Someone to Help Babysit My Pet Dinosaur

Who wouldn’t want to work with a dinosaur? I clicked through to the job description to find this:
You didn't really think I had a pet dinosaur, did you?

If you’re smart enough to know better than that, you’re already ahead of my idiot staff. They just can’t seem to understand how to perform basic tasks and get to work on time. So I am going on a hiring/firing spree. I need competent individuals who know how and are willing to do their jobs. I will pay top dollar and full benefits after a 60-day probation period.

Pet dinosaur or not, who would want to work for this subhuman?

But yesterday I at last found my dream job: Exercise Rider. Here’s the ad:
Exercise rider needed to gallop Thoroughbred racehorses. Must be experienced galloping Thoroughbred racehorses and weigh less than 125 lbs.
The cover letter would be easy to write; the in-person proof-of-experience could be a harder sell:

1. I’ve never been on a Thoroughbred, but I spent many childhood hours with Quarter Horses, Appaloosas, and Arabians. I could fudge it.

2. It’s been 20 years since I weighed 125 pounds. Even if I could fool the stable manager, I couldn’t fool the horse.

3. I’m often gravity-challenged. That is, I fall off. I’ve never been afraid to get back on the horses and I’ve never blamed them for their participation (bucking, rearing, stepping on me once I’m down) in my embarrassment. But this might be the deal-breaker when competing for the position.

Sigh. Another perfect job slips away from me before I can even apply for it. But I’ll keep looking.

Maybe next week some multimillion-dollar stable here will need a “Horse Petter.” In fact, I’ll write my cover letter now so I’ll be ready.

Wandering into the Unknown

I’ve been away from my trusty Mac­: searching for new digs, new environment–in short, a new life. Hence my absence from Lull. I’ll return in a few days to regular posting. But for now, I am exploring new territories and have discovered (well, I’ve always known) that I am NOT a PC and you can HAVE the new Windows (yet another reason you’re not hearing from me).

Oh, Apple, How I Miss Thee…

Your Job(s) vs. Your Identity

For those of you who have multiple jobs in multiple places listed on your résumés, I thought you might enjoy this passage from Gregg Levoy’s Callings: Finding and Following an Authentic Life.

At a party, I once overheard a stranger ask my twin brother, Ross, the requisite introductory question, “So what do you do?” After a brief silence, Ross replied, “When?”

I don’t believe he meant to be smug, merely honest, and in that one-word answer he recited the challenge of polydox: accepting that we are many things, not one…; we try to “get ourselves together,” to answer the question “Who am I?” when really the question might be better put, “Who am we?”

Too bad Levoy’s perspective isn’t shared by everyone in HR. Might make job-hunting easier for some folks.

Time to Tweak Your Perspective

Things not going as planned? Job search getting you down? This advice from humorist Robert Orben may help:

“Don’t think of it as failure. Think of it as time-released success.”

[Photo by Brian MacFarlane.]

Monday Motivation for the Unemployed (and Otherwise)

I’m starting the week with this Curious George predecessor and his long-necked pal to remind all of us that if we thrust our minds far enough into the clouds, we can rise above the gloom … see better … and think differently.


[This illustration is part of Curious George Saves the Day: The Art of Margret and H. A. Rey, an exhibit at the Jewish Museum in New York City (and traveling to the Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco). Read about it in the New York Times.]

Overheard at the Unemployment Office

I visited my local unemployment office again on Thursday determined to get specific answers about why my payments stopped in January. Amid the cacophony serenading my wait (I was no. 115 and no. 79 was called just as I sat down) were these gems:

from a one-sided phone exchange “Yes, I’d like to discuss the project. … The thing is, I’m in recovery and I have a curfew. Could we meet in the afternoon instead?”

from a mother to her crying toddler “Will you just shut up?”

from one of the security guards as he looked out a window, presumably watching a car being towed away “If you parked at the Burger King, the post office, or the mall, you WILL be towed.”

from various conversations
“As soon as I got laid off, I sold everything I owned that I didn’t absolutely need.”

“Yeah, I’ve been unemployed for 15 months.”

“I worked there for 15 years. They laid off me and one other person. Everybody else got their pay cut.”

And the kicker? “I like being unemployed!”

Geez. I guess there’s one in every bunch.

A Release from Hope

I actually received an e-mail this week from one of the publishers I applied to. It was a couple of form grafs saying although they considered me, they found someone more suitable. Basically, a rejection letter. However, I prefer to think of it as a "Release from Hope," no matter how tenuous that strand of hope may have been.

Don't get me wrong: I don't hold my breath for every job I apply to. I have no Great Expectations. But I do try to keep a little flame of hope burning.

I have to confess that's getting harder to do, which may be exacerbating my "under-the-weatheredness." I visited my local unemployment office this week to find out if I really needed a lawyer to combat the mysterious offense I'd made (see "Ouch! The IDES of February Are Hurting Me") and was told to "be patient with them." They're "behind." I should keep making my regular phone calls and someday soon I'd get another letter from IDES saying where I stood. (Of course, if it's as incomprehensible as their previous letters, I still won't know where I stand.) I wasn't in trouble. But no one could tell me whether I was or wasn't eligible for benefits.

So I've had no income for a month and I'm not sure whether there will be IDES income in the future. Makes me a little SCARED … WORRIED … TROUBLED … STRESSED … DESPONDENT … ALL those emotions I've been holding at bay by writing Lull. They've been waiting in the wings for this moment to bully me.

But I'm going to look to George Eliot for strength:

"But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope."
—From Middlemarch, by George Eliot

[Art by Vermeer.]

A Look at Unemployment from the Other Side of the Résumé

I don’t remember what I was searching for the other day on the Internet, but I came across an article from Workforce Management, a magazine I once (when I had a job) relied on for source material. The pub is written for HR folk, and I thought a few of the remarks quoted in the article might be of interest to Lull’s unemployed readers.

The second graf frames the seriousness of our situation:
“The most conservative official estimates indicate that 15 million unemployed workers are now chasing 2.5 million jobs [sic] openings. A more realistic estimate would show that there are 10 unemployed workers for every open job.” The boldface emphasis is mine.

Note that this does not say there are 10 unemployed people applying for each job. No, no, no! There are 10 people for each job opening. This does not take into account anyone’s match for the job, nor does it represent how many actual candidates apply for the job.

According to John Younger, CEO of recruiting firm Accolo, “The average number of applicants across the board, including applicants for executive positions, is more than 200 per job. In the first hour that we looked to fill an executive assistant position, we received 500 applications and shut down the search.”

500? You can hardly blame them for shutting down the search. But the more frustrating number reported here is 1. Our window of opportunity to be considered for some jobs is ONE HOUR. This means that we need to be sitting at our computers at just the right moment, viewing just the right job board in just the right category and be able to write a customized cover letter on the spot.

What’s worse, though, is that Younger continues with this tidbit:
“A lot of companies are afraid to use broad distributions, so they don’t even post jobs and go only to one networking site—for example, the hiring manager’s alumni association.”

Again, this is perfectly understandable from where the hiring manager sits, but it further narrows the opportunity for applicants. I recently applied for a job that I found out later from an insider was probably already promised to someone before the job ad even got posted. The ad was merely a formality.

This is what we’re up against, my friends. But the worst? Younger says employed candidates are preferable to unemployed ones. In fact, he says, “[S]ome employers are vehemently opposed to hiring anyone who is unemployed … .”

Well, isn’t that peachy?

Granted, this is not an investigative report; I’ve given you only one perspective from one publication. But I think it’s worth knowing, if only to use the next time someone asks you what’s taking so long for you to land a job.

On one hand, this information can make us feel hopeless. But on the other, it can give us the courage to go out on a limb—to try unusual tactics, to apply for positions we’re not perfectly qualified for, to not try so hard to write whatever it is we think some HR person is looking for. Our chances of winning a job are about as good as winning the lottery. The important thing is to stay in the game.

Job-Hunting by Numbers

Today I happened upon a job board that had two unusual features. Each ad included these two figures:
1. The number of people who have applied so far for the position
2. The number of times the ad has been viewed

Is this useful information for job-seekers?

Perhaps. In some cases.

In my case? Well, 270 people have already applied for the job, and the ad had been viewed 13,421 times before I saw it.

So how would those numbers make you feel? Happy for the competition? Or discouraged by the odds? Eager to apply? Or ready to throw in the towel (or the keyboard)?

Of course, if you were the one to actually get the job, these numbers would sweeten your victory.

Again, the fact that the mainstream press continues to cite 6 as the average number of applicants per job annoys me—first, because reporters take it as gospel, and second, because it paints an inaccurate picture of the plight of the unemployed.

Last night while walking with the pooch, I saw something that looked like a shooting star. (My husband said it was more likely aliens.) I'm hoping it was a sign of good things to come for us—on this planet or another.


[Photo courtesy of Tony Cook.]

We Don't Have to Settle for Off-the-Rack Jobs

Finding a good job fit depends first on our awareness of the variety of jobs that exist. If you're like me, your counselors in high school and college had not one conversation with you about work. So many of us are ill-prepared to choose a path toward our future.


Crossing Disciplinary Boundaries for Well-Rounded Employees
Enter British conceptual artist Chris Evans. He set up events at European art schools at which police officers made recruitment presentations. Initially, these presentations were merely meant to be elements of what would become Evans' video art installation and book. But a funny thing happened on the way to the gallery: Some art students actually signed up for the force.

Evans continued setting up the events, now with a dual purpose in mind. He saw that art students needed to know about other careers since most of them would never become working artists. And he believes police forces should reflect the diversity of our society, a notion that typically focuses only on ethnicity and doesn't include sensibilities.

Recruiters should take note and set up their own events in performing and fine arts schools as well as in liberal arts programs. And they shouldn't stop there.


Ouch! My Job Fit Feels A Little Tight
Once people are in the workforce, it's easy to get stuck in a single track at a single company or industry. Yet in truth, as we acquire new skills and new confidence in the workplace, we need to reexamine the direction we're taking. And we should do it with the company's blessing and assistance. Perhaps someone in accounting could be more useful, not to mention more satisfied, in the Web department. Or maybe a designer is better suited for a career in marketing. Maybe, horror of horrors to the HR department, a new career direction means the employee must move to a new company. (This, by the way, is an old management philosophy—that our goal as managers and employers is to make people widely employable not just for our organization but for any organization. It's a philosophy that continues to buck against an entrenched mindset of corporate ownership: "We trained you, you're ours.")

Career trajectories don't have to be a straight ascent up some imaginary ladder. As we change, so can our jobs. Great companies know this and act on it. But the rest of the business world has a lot of catching up to do.


Where Do I Belong?
For years I've harbored a desire to work in a museum, especially an art museum. But doing what?

Well, while riffling through my back issues of ArtNews magazine yesterday, I was reminded of a position I believe I'm now suited for. I don't think the position has a title. If it did, it might be something like "Art Sentry/Caregiver."

The art is The New York Earth Room, a permanent Dia Art Foundation installation of dirt in a Soho loft. 280,000 pounds of it, to be precise--the brainchild of Walter De Maria.

The employee buzzes visitors into the building, answers questions about the work and artist, and tends the soil and room—eliminating mold, mushrooms, footprints. It's a Zen-like job, manned for nearly 20 years by Bill Dilworth. I've linked Dilworth's name to a 2009 interview with him. If you watch it, you may understand why it made me want the job even more (he gets to read on the job!), and why it dashed all my hopes of ever getting the job (he's 50 years away from retirement AND he LOVES the job).

Sigh. But my point is, Who knew? Who knew such a job existed? Granted, it's not for everyone. And 20 years ago it might not have been for me. But today I might jump at a job ad that reads:
Set hours
Work alone in loft space
Must love art
RESPONSIBILITIES:
• Greet visitors
• Answer questions
• Keep earth pristine


[Head by Picasso.]

Be All You Can Be

I'm reading a work of fiction, published in 1995, by a popular novelist. I'm not really enjoying it, but it has made me think about how different life was pre-9/11.

The main character wanders from the beach in her swimsuit one day—where she was on a vacation with her extended family—and hitchhikes to a small American town where she's never been and knows no one. She purchases a dress on the town square, rents a room at a boarding house, and hears from the boarding house proprietor that the woman who previously lived there left behind a secretarial job down the street. Our main character promptly heads over to the law office and announces she intends to fill the vacancy.

She starts work the next day for minimum wage. (Was it really that easy 15 years ago to walk out of one life and into another? To step into a job without first showing a résumé, providing 3 references, and filling out 5 pages of application questions?) She notices that her new self doesn't smile so much, dresses more severely, seems less warm and easy-going. She passes no judgment on this.

But we can.

There's a lot of chatter out there about the unemployed reinventing themselves—follow our dreams, do what we love, do something else, be someone else. This fictional character reminds me that we have to remain in control of the metamorphosis. To let it happen without our participation and guidance is to watch ourselves become people we may not want to be.

[Pictured is a Revenge of the Fallen Transformer toy. I don't know what the movie of the same name is about. I prefer to think of the "Fallen" as the Jobless, rising to glorious new heights, armed with whatever it takes to beat unemployment this year, colorfully noticeable. We may have been down, but we're not done, baby.]

Books on the Brain

y quest for employment centers largely on books for two reasons: 1) I adore them so, and 2) I'm an editor by trade. It's a perfect match and I just have to convince hiring managers/HR professionals that I can add value to their organizations. Which is what I'll be doing today. And probably tomorrow and the day after.

Which is to say, dear readers, I haven't much time to spend with you.

However, in a bit of television I saw last night, I was reminded of a term that ties in nicely with an earlier post about Brian Dettmer and a post I've been meaning to write about Victorian networking. In the program, an artist had purchased a number of science books and grangerized them to become graphic elements in his controversial artwork.

Grangerize has two meanings:
1. To mutilate a book by clipping illustrations, photographs, text, etc., out of it.
2. To illustrate a book by adding elements cut from other books.

According to Wordsmith.org, the word's coinage is linked to James Granger (1723–1776), an English clergyman whose Biographical History of England had blank leaves for illustrations that were to be filled in by readers with their own selection of pictures, clippings, etc. A kind of robbing-Peter-to-pay-Paul scheme. [Hmmm. That's a cost-saving measure for current publishers to consider.]

Do you see? Even while watching television my mind boomerangs back to books—their production and preservation. Now if I can just get across my passion in a cover letter without sounding sappy…

[Artful drop cap designed by Jessica Hische.]

The State of Unenjoyment

Did you hear him? It's official. Our president stated what my mother refuses to believe: America's jobless send out one cover letter after another and never hear a peep from the prospective employer.

I feel vindicated.

But it's too late for writer Neal Hirschfeld. He already suffered a meltdown over the lack of response and plotted his revenge. Read his dramatic(ally humorous) tale on the New York Times site for a chuckle and maybe a plan of your own.

[Thank you to the Lull reader who pointed this out to me.]