People (one person to be exact) said yesterday’s post was rather pensive, and it was. I’ve been in a stew about something, most obviously.
But I’m better now! Which reminds me, and all of us, I hope, that sometimes a day makes all the difference. And also, you don’t have to decide anything all at once, you know?
photo credit: where are the joneses
If this week is any indication, things must be getting better, economically speaking and all. Here’s why:
1) I will have been employed by external sources, working outside of the confines of my glorious and overly decorated (according to some) apartment this entire week. Whoot. This hasn’t happened since early May, 2009. And boy, are my arms tired.
photo credit: Peter Martin Hall
How many hours a week do you work, or not work, as the case may be? If I estimate my hours back in May or before, I get something like this, on average:
Monday: 15 hours (7 am-10 pm)
Tuesday: 8 hours (10 am-6 pm)
Wednesday: 9 hours (10 am-7 pm)
Thursday: 10 hours (10 am-8 pm)
Friday: 9 hours (10 am-7 pm)
I helped a friend move yesterday, and holy shit, I am tired. Moving is grueling work! And, actually, she had movers, two guys in their twenties who showed up with a ginormous old-school blue van and orchestrated the heavy lifting and couch maneuvering. (Despite my numerous talents, I have never been good at spatial relations, and the way they managed to get a table through a doorway, or a couch into an elevator, failed not to amaze me.)
When L. and I met the fellows, they mentioned, I believe rather cavalierly, that she had brought along her “strongest friend.” Not being one who wants to seem weak or too girly to hustle, too focused on my mani-pedi to get down and possibly dirty, that brought out my competitive nature. I was determined to prove them right—I am, indeed, L.’s strongest friend!
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.
Here’s an interesting tidbit:
According to research from the Center for Economic and Policy Research analyzing self-employment in countries ’round the world, Read the rest of this entry »
photo credit: Paul Watson
I’ve been hanging out with a friend’s baby since Thursday, and I have made some very interesting discoveries. Obviously, babies are unemployed. Due to those pesky child labor laws, even full-grown, able-bodied kids up to the age of 14 are considered “undesirable” for most gigs, minus newspaper delivery, babysitting, and, of course, ACTING.
But babies are similar to the unemployed for more than just lack of work. Let’s take my friend’s adorable child, Lillian, who attacks life with evident vigor despite her being just a year old. Now, maybe Lillian isn’t like all of the Unemployeds out there, but she sure does have some funny similarities to YUD. Let’s examine:
A friend of mine recently brought this to my attention, and I think it may be the perfect solution for what to do when all the magazine jobs are gone:
Want a job you can really relish? Do you have an appetite for adventure, a friendly personality, and boundless enthusiasm? Do you want to become a goodwill ambassador for Oscar Mayer, helping to organize promotions and even pitch TV, radio, and print media? If the answer is “Yes”, you could qualify to be an official Oscar Mayer Hotdogger. Read on for all the juicy details.
I got an email today (actually it went to spam, gotta fix that)…from an organization I used to belong to back in my full-time freelance days. (And which I will likely rejoin at some point down the road when the COBRA runs out, as they offer a multitude of health insurance offerings, a 401(k), and intriguing subway ads, among other things.)
From: Sara Horowitz, Freelancer’s Union
photo credit: KayVee.INC
Think your layoff was bad? What if you had to leave the country? What if it happened twice? Guest blogger and all-around fabulous guy “Tony” (who really did not deserve what happened to him, btw, but is doing just fine now, thank you for asking) gives all of us whingers a little perspective …
I GOT LAID OFF. BLOODY HELL
It is New Year’s Day 2009. My gorgeous, hilarious, darling girlfriend
of 18 months is wandering around my apartment wearing knickers (hers)
and a 15-year-old grey hoodie (mine). She looks amazing. I make her a
cup of tea. We sit on the couch and I think about where to take her
for brunch.
