Your Unemployed Daughter

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.

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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.

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photo credit: jaymzx

Here’s an Unemployment Mix submission from one D.H., who recently moved up to the big city from down South and has endured his own bout with unemployment, most irritatingly being turned down for work due to “lack of NYC experience.” Which is not very constructive, potential employers!

At any rate, D.H. has since prevailed and joined the ranks of the employed, and now has taken some time out of his busy workaday schedule to put together a list of tunes for the rest of us.

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photo credit: digital_monkey

You know how yesterday I was all moans and groans about my freelance gig for the next two weeks? All, Woe to the weary freelancer! So tiring, being in an office all day long! So hard to fit in your blogging, your workouts, and your social time! How do the employed do it?

It does take some getting used to. I am working on a theory about this, but I think it’s because it’s unnatural. People were not meant to sit in tall, heavily air-conditioned buildings staring at computer screens and reading Gawker all day long, listening to loud, plummy-voiced fellows talking about how to get relationship dish from underaged, inexperienced actors at film screenings. People were meant to be active, and enjoy life, and make a difference—do something good for themselves, and each other.

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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.

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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.

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photo credit: gettyam
Remember when Magazine Editor was like, the dreamiest dream job around? The one that all the rom-com characters in movies (the pretty, smart, successful ones who dressed well and had handsome boyfriends and really tricked-out day planners) were assigned?

Whatever happened to THAT? Did we writerly folks do something to deserve this “media apocalypse”? Did we fly too near the sun, in too many pairs of Christian Louboutin heels? Are editors now paying some karmic debt to society?

Shouldn’t that be Madoff’s problem?

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photo credit: candrews

You know how when you were little, and you told your mom you felt bad, and she thought you were just faking to get out of going to school but she took you to the doctor and it turned out you had a strep throat, or pneumonia, or swine flu?

That’s kind of how this recent NYT report makes me feel. Vindicated. Sorry for self. In need of antibiotics.

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photo credit: bowbrick

OBJECT: To obtain a media job. Any media job, really. Preferably one that has to do with words. [Insert fawning cover letter and 2-page résumé here.]

In case you haven’t heard, there’s a media implosion going on. And by imploding, I mean deflating like a punctured helium balloon tearing through the sky on its last gas. Or maybe a meteor falling out of the sky. Get out of its way. It’ll hit you.

Now, if we were in a media explosion, I would have at least one of these jobs (companies will remain nameless to protect the innocent – me) that I’ve applied for in the last month. I would have at least been called. I know, I don’t always have the right experience. I don’t expect them all to call me. I’m not that egotistical. But you’d think more than one would have gotten in touch, no?

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I recently got this request from a friend:

“I think you should blog about Omar Bongo. We are in the wrong lines of business. This guy, no matter what, was never getting laid off.”

For those of you who don’t know or are too lazy to read the link (I forgive you, we’ve had a string of dreary NYC days where it’s been hard to get out of bed, much less click a mouse), Omar Bongo, the late, longest-ruling (41 years) president of Gabon, 4-foot 11-inch owner of a Napoleon complex, was what we call an autocrat, a dictator, a “very bad person,” or, perhaps, for you Freudians, pure, unadulterated id.

“A diminutive, dapper figure, who conversed in flawless French and alternated between pomposity, courtesy, and cruelty as required, Bongo treated Gabon as a self-obsessed landlord treats his private estate. He considered everything inside its borders to be his personal property and elevated corruption to a method of government.”

He also kept his tailored white Hervé Villachaize-plays-Chairman Mao-on-safari suits impeccably clean (or at least his wife Patience did).

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