photo credit: Tonio Vega
Men’s underwear.
Per the Washington Post, and countless threadbare-boxer-wearing economists:
Sales of men’s underwear typically are stable because they rank as a necessity. But during times of severe financial strain, men will try to stretch the time between buying new pairs, causing underwear sales to dip.
I’m forgoing brunch with friends in favor of staying home, seeing what’s on TV, and trying to get rid of my scratchy throat/aches/feelings of grave discontentment. I go into an office tomorrow to start a new temporary project, which is hunky-dory and “part-time” to allow for things like blogging and relationship-building and whatnot, but ugh! To be sick on the first day? Not fun.
Friday night I also stayed home (don’t worry, YUD hasn’t become permanently boring, it’s just this cold) and watched The Lavender Hill Mob, a movie that I’d initially borrowed from my good pals at Netflix on 6/16/09. I am not kidding; I just looked it up.
I stumbled upon this story in the NYT today while scanning the headlines pre-yoga. Since I too have been dubbed middle-aged (though with less impact given the 25 hopefully good years before I reach the age of 58), I read it. And my heart goes out to this fellow.
I am sure it must be much, much harder to be 58 and unemployed than, say, 33 or 22 and without a job. Like our feelin-sorry-for-hisself 31-year-old employed editor from the Gawker piece, Michael Blattman is also “at a professional dead end”—but without the nimbleness or freedom from the burden of alimony that comes with comparative youth.
It’s 2:30 on a rainy Friday, and YUD has accomplished the following:
1) Conducted an interview that she will write up for money.
I recently got this note from Judd Marcello, fellow blogger, music aficionado, and husband to one of my college roommates: “I’m about to be unemployed once we move to London. Does YUD need guest bloggers? A “YUS” [Your Unemployed Son] perspective? A UK perspective?”
To update you briefly: J, my roommate, then housemate, now simply good friend across the world, moved to Boston after we graduated from our esteemed East Coast university. She took a job with a certain established company and has been with them ever since, moving, along with her promotions, from Boston to Miami to Sydney and now to London.
Judd has carved out his own career in each of those locales, bypassing established career path norms and hurtling conventional ladders to do what works for him—and what he’s really good at.
photo credit: Jeremy Brooks
Here’s an interesting piece, on Gawker today, about the fate of those print journalism types who haven’t been laid off. And while I don’t think it’s as dire as all that—things change, and people need (after their fair share of wallowing boozily, semi-conscious in private miseries) to hop on board and adapt or just go ahead and retire—it’s telling.
Who has it better? Maybe it’s actually us unemployeds.
photo credit: Corey Holms
A friend just passed along this New York Times article by David Carr about the Talk magazine launch party. I think it’s a revealing description of where things have been, and where they’re going.
Of this particularly decadent bash—among its attendees were Madonna and Henry Kissinger; George Plimpton narrated—Carr writes, “‘It seems like that happened in the 18th century,’ said Ms. Brown by phone last Friday.”
photo credit: robot glue
What is this? Scratchy throat, red tonsils, swollen glands, achy hip sockets, general feeling of malaise, and … most frighteningly, lack of desire to drink?
Oh dear. I think I may have come down with something.
photo credit: Pete Ashton
I had dinner with a friend a couple nights ago who recommended that I date older men. An interesting theory, and one that I am not, on principle, against entirely. She went on to say, “You want someone who will be like the yin to your yang, like me and [lovely husband-person], or TK and TK [another admittedly solid, complementary couple in my friend group].”
Presumably, this oldster would exert a calming influence, get me to stop binge drinking, and ensure I returned home without an “F-You” text, or a bruising fall off a barstool.
photo credit: Todd Mecklem
Hey guys!
Remember that old Unemployment Quiz, the one that I begged and pleaded with you to answer? Yeah, it was a while ago. At any rate, two of you have seen fit to respond, and I hate to punish two good test-takers just because the rest of you are out on the Vineyard or strung out on Quaker Chewy Bars or just too “busy” or whatever.
