The Job Hunt

Well, isn't this fun.

I've been laid off for less than a week, and I'm looking for work. I'm learning that the unemployment office requires you to look for work by making five contacts per week, and today I can't find anything to apply for.

I interviewed for a job at a newspaper not far from my house, and was told a month ago that I would get a second interview. I've called, e-mailed and tried to stay "in touch" as I know the job could take forever for them to fill, and yet nothing. I've been reassured several times by someone who works at that company that it can take a month for them to get me in, so why did the hiring manager say he'd get me in at the end of the week? Another person in this world living on Fantasy Island, I guess.

Meanwhile, I wait. I never was a very patient person, and being unemployed really hasn't helped that cause any. I want to be working now, and if not now, I'd like to know when.

I made myself a deal. Every day I would do some form of exercise so my butt doesn't look like it did working my last office job when I take my next one. I also promised myself I'd apply for one job a day (minimum), and that I would walk the dog.

So far I've been able to keep that end of the bargain. I've lost 3 pounds in the past week (sorry if this sounds too much like Bridget Jones' diary as she calculates drinks drunk, smokes smoked, and weight lost and regained). I guess that's a good deal. But the only jobs I see in the paper this morning are to work for the local newspaper selling them in stores as people come in, which I'm just a tad overqualified for, and a job so far south that I'd be sitting in the traffic cluster called "T-Rex" -- a highway expansion project south of Denver that would take years off my life trying to get to, and it's not even close to full time work.

So perhaps today will be a trip downtown. I've already showered, so it shouldn't take much work to dress and get out of the house for a while.

Meanwhile, I look at my cats -- Jack the kitten playing with my slippers, attacking the doorjam, and knawing on the bench that holds his food bowl. Ah, to be a cat, and only need to obsess when the food bowl is empty.