photo credit: abdultaiyeb
I promised you a Dad-vice, and a Dad-vice you shall receive. Whether it’s 1972 or 2009, and you’re looking for a job or wandering the streets, it pays to keep them eyes peeled.
The Reality Show
Even though I’m sure you’ve heard that the jobless rate is now 9.7 and that 216,000 jobs were lost in August (recession over, now?), I’m not going to talk about that. (Interesting statistic: An expanded unemployment rate that includes people who have given up looking for jobs out of frustration and are working part time but still want full-time jobs rose to 16.8 percent, from 16.3 percent.)
But like I said, I’m not going to talk about that. It’s the Friday before Labor Day and even though I can hear my neighbor groggily and loudly talking into her phone (she must have her big fat adenoid-troubled head propped against our adjoining wall, I swear), I refuse to be brought down by that, or news of further unemployments, for now.
Because remember what’s so great about holidays? They are for everyone! Just because you don’t currently labor doesn’t mean you don’t get to enjoy Labor Day. You deserve it just as much as the next slob! (Also, if you insist on traveling, gas in New York City is now a mere $2.91 to last year’s $3.87 per gallon. There prove no shortage of drink specials to match; just do me a favor and don’t drink the gas itself this time, ‘kay?)
I’m heading back to New York City this early a.m., and it seems apropo, since I stayed at my brother’s apartment in Boston last night, dishing and reminiscing about the past and family, that we’d start the week right, with a Dad-vice.
My dad recently reunited with some far-flung family for a wedding, returning to his hometown and the house of his youth. Reflections were had, comparisons made between today and yesteryear. I think you will find it, as always, interesting.
Then and Now
Yes, I have worn glasses for a long time
Back from the South, and already the pace has amped. I have to get to midtown on this hot-as-hell Monday and register (in person) with a fine institution called Career Blazers (apparently this process involves me showing them my passport and filling out some form so they can confirm I’m not a felon, illegal immigrant, or bat-shit crazy, and then, presumably, pay me for work done), then head over to the eye doctor who insists that I have my eyes dilated this year, since I’ve begged off the process for going on three years now. And, while chances are it’s no biggie if I skip again, I might also have something really bad (and apparently painless) going on that would only be uncovered only by making my pupils giant on a sunny day.
Isn’t the whole “dilation” process a little antiquated at this point? Pretty much everyone who “works” does it in front of a computer—or, if not, needs at least to be able to see clearly less than 2 feet in front of them. Unemployed eye doctors out there, get together on this! I will pay! As an editor/writer/blogger/person who likes to see, I get a little stressed at the prospect of hours in which I can’t work on my computer…ergh.
photo credit: youngthousands
The following is an email exchange between my dad and me, in which I protest at the idea of him giving me money to ease my cash flow “situation” (i.e., not being paid very quickly for freelance work rendered), he makes a solid argument for why I should take his loan, and I cave rather immediately.
I admit, I am lucky. A lot of unemployed people don’t have parents who will give them money, or parents who have any money to give. Nor do they face the conundrum of whether to borrow from those parents or to withdraw from mutual funds they happen to have inherited from a very special grandmother.
Our latest Dad-vice takes us to Africa, and teaches some valuable lessons in judgment calls, decision-making, and split-second timing. Just like Kenny Rogers and creepy whiskey-drinking muppets, you’ve got to know when to walk away, and know when to run.
Baby Elephant Walk
On a Camera Safari in South Africa in 1996, we were driving through the bush in an open-top vehicle looking for big game.
Apologies, my friends, as unforseen complications (aka, brutal hangover plus sustained loss of Internet connection) led to my lack of posting Friday’s Dad-vice. Don’t worry, though, because here it is, and what’s better, really, than a Friday? A Saturday, of course.
Speaking of Saturdays, on this particular one I am blogging from the penthouse of Driftwood on the Ocean, an Amagansett hotel. We are indeed on the ocean, but it’s a bit cloudy right now, which I know will come as unfortunate news to several of my party upon their rising.
However, since I went to the dermatologist and told her about how I burned my scalp in the sun over the Fourth of July weekend (to which she responded, “We all suffer from thinning hair as we get older,”) my thirst for a Hawaiian-Tropic tan has subsided a bit. What I am thirsty for is coffee, and although there is a pot and a filter and even, perhaps, the faint scent of coffee wafting through the sea-soaked air, I cannot locate a single bean in the kitchen, within or without its many retro-styled cabinets. Sigh.
Employed Father, Unemployed Daughter to be, Dog
Grab your dogs by the leash, it’s Dad-vice Friday again!
I think I mentioned that My Retired Father has a checkered employment history of his own—one company, yes, but spanning a number of cities, states, and countries, so many you probably couldn’t even count them on both of your hands, unless you happen to have polydactyly.
Hola! It’s Dad-vice Friday, a good time to take stock, and a few deep breaths, prior to the impending weekend debauchery to make sure you’ve got money in your pocket, wine in the fridge, and a spring in your step—in short, that you’re about to do everything YUD would do. But before you head out to enjoy your sunny summer Friday (if you work and/or if you still have summer Fridays), My Retired Father has a few things to share about keeping premiums and overheads low, thinking creatively about employment, and how to get a free lunch.
I backed up my car and hit a concrete pole in the parking lot. Ouch!
I took it to a body shop, and they quoted $1000 to replace the bumper with a new one. Double ouch!! That’s money out of my pocket. (My insurance deductible is $1500, in order to keep my semi annual premium low.)So I asked a few friends about repair services that they had used, and I heard about some other body shops and disappointing results. Not very encouraging. Later, I was having the oil changed at the car dealership. I talked to a service representative about the damage.
photo credit: HA! Designs – artbyheather
Your Unemployed Daughter is happy to announce that someone near and dear to her (Her Retired Father, in fact) has agreed to become a regular contributor to YUD. He’s been through a lot, including more than 30 years with the same company, a vicious leg-burning acid accident on the job, travels and travails from Alabama to Singapore.
We could learn from him in these treacherous times. Plus, he can suck down the (red, better for the heart) vino like nobody’s business. Apple, tree, etc.
