Day 69 - Painfully (Un)Hip

Here's one example of how I am a completely unhip person (and yet somehow I still haven't been exiled by the Austin mob):  

Date: March 18, 2010, during Austin's well-known, industry-lauded South by Southwest music festival. This is a time when music moguls, waifs, punkers, rockers, roadies and groupies gather in the Capitol City to outcool each other, wail into microphones (which are located conveniently at every street corner) and look unimpressed in general.

Where: Krush Lounge (Yes, in Austin, Sherlock Smartass, because I know at least one person reading this is about to ask.)

What/why: A friend's band, Katoptric, landed their first Austin gig (and there was much rejoicing.) I had been invited to witness and celebrate their debut.

Evidence: At the conclusion of their set, the drummer threw his sticks into the crowd. Clearly not paying attention on my end (in my defense, there was a lot of showmanship going on), one of drumsticks pegs my friend (who is a cutie, score for her!) who then (understandably) flinches. The stick begins its deflected journey anew to land in the hands of an ecstatic crowd member behind us. Lo and behold, another stick comes soaring in our general direction (again, my friend), this one landing to the right near a doorway. Keep in mind, the crowd was sparser than anticipated (I'd say around 30 nearby, so there were bald patches in the crowd. AND btw, not the band's fault at all.) Me, the big doof, look around, see if anyone is going after it and ask my friend if we're supposed to pick it up. It's something along the lines of, "What's going on? Did he mean to let go of the stick? Do I just leave it laying over there? Is that rude? No one else is going after it. What does this mean?" My friend, who is much hipper than I am and understood that this was a fun thing that drummers in bands do at times to celebrate the end of a gig, tolerated this nonsensical question barrage before vaguely nodding and gesturing. It ends with me awkwardly turning, searching for the stick in the darkness, finding it, bending down slowly so as not to spill my beer and then standing up looking like that confused elderly woman who yells, "I've fallen and I can't stand up."

You now hopefully can understand why I must surround myself with the cool people I currently surround myself with. Otherwise, I'd be one step from living in Sanford and Son's junkyard (yet not in the actual house until cool points accrue.)

Meanwhile, rock on Katoptric.

Here's an Article I Won't be Reading

How to Wear Jeans to Work

Once more, I am mocked! Khan! KHHHHAAAANNN!

Fear. What a Fabulous Motivator.

CNN ditched today about how workers are scared to work flex hours, opting instead to stay onsite and work excessive hours. 

Could it be because companies are flicking off employees quicker then a spring break frat bull can down a shot of tequila?

Could it be because unemployment rates are at about 10%?

Could it be because evil corporations are licking the backs of employees' necks with the wicked, wicked whip of employment uncertainty? 

Could it be that workers are now feeling akin to that crazy, paranoid man that always sits down on the bus next to them? You know, the one ranting about conspiracies, being followed by the CIA and that purple ghost bitch that keeps staring at 'em.

Maybe. Maybe not. You decide. 

Day 68 - Oh Cripes. It's Day 68.

Did I mention it is day 68 of unemployment? 68 days. This is certifiably the longest I've gone in my life without employment (and yes I'm counting college. And high school.) I wanted to put a little perspective around this length of time, so I fleshed out some comparisons.

If my unemployment term was a baby, it's gone from a soft-headed, squint-eyed (all newborns I've seen are squinty) ball of flesh to a rolling, grabbing terror (still with a soft head but slightly less softer.) 

If my unemployment term was a Toyota, I'd be signed up for a class action law suit (that damn thing did not slow down!)

If my unemployment term was beer, I'd have almost 11 six packs (and the makings of a great party.) 

If my unemployment term was enterprise technology, it'd still be gathering specs with an implementation scheduled for early 2011. (Huh. That one actually makes me feel better. Much better.)

Day 66 - Just Do Your Work

Ingredients at a friend's crawfish boil: Crawfish. Crab. Spices. Keg. Enthusiastic guests. A teacher.

The teacher (as all teachers do) had the best stories. We started with subbing talk. I've explored that area before, but AISD was all "full up" for the year. (I'm trying not to take it personally and it's been successful.) Then she started with the the stories of K-8(th grade that is.)  

What really intrigued me were her stories about the differences in communicating (or authoritatin') between ages and classes. One class (we're talking elementary here) related well to deadlines without a threat of punishment. One class didn't respond until there was a deadline and a threat of punishment. And one all-As  ninja felt the pain because he couldn't produce all parts of his project in time. The teacher, knowing he was a good egg but also knowing she had to produce on her threat, phoned the assistant principal and bow-wowed to the voicemail so the student wouldn't have to go down for the count. (Hey if you don't follow through the children will never listen to you again.) Mission accomplished. 

Ah, but this does remind me of company projects I've been involved in. It's a fine art trying to figure out how to get someone to do their part of a project. Because, unlike the classroom, normally a blanket strategy doesn't work.  Some co-workers you have to cater to. Some you have to stalk. Some you have to ignore (they'll come to you! Rare, but they exist.) Some you listen to (because if you listen to everyone's advice you'll go gonzo.) Some need karaoke and a light show to get the point across. There are a million tunes I could tap dance to because, in the end, saying something like "Do your work by this date" should work. But, alas, nyet.

Day 64 - Hoe. Plow. Plant.

Now I'm frickin' semi-addicted to Farmville. I grow things. I know it's time to pet the cat. It takes three days to grow artichokes.

I blame you, unemployment! YOU!

Day 62 - Shed the Skin, Exorcise the Demon

My inbox - be it e-mails, Tweets, posts, IMs, texts, voice mail or smoke signals - vomits many, many treasures. Some days it is an article. Other days it is an interview request. Yet other days it is treasured snarkiness from my good, good friends. (It is probably no surprise to hear that many of my friends and family are straight shooters - no icing on the cake, no warning before the Band-Aid rip and laughter when your heel breaks, because let's face it - that is pretty frickin' funny if it ain't you.)

Today, my inbox yielded a synopsis titled (remember: It is always titled, not entitled. Entitled means you are owed something. Titled means, well, here's the title. Ok, grammar lecture deactivated.), "Three Reasons Not to Leave Your Job."* It says that if you are peeved, disgruntled, burnt out, etc., you should not immediately leave your job because it could be hard to replace said subpar job, you are ruining relationships and you could be overestimating your value in the market place.

All good points.

But it overlooks one possible solution. Yeah, storming out in a blaze of curse words, flying headphones, crude hand gestures and evil-hearted kicks won't produce the most desirable results (and will most likely incur lawsuits as well, but that's a whole other imaginary scenario.) But, my radical idea is that you don't have to stay at your non-dream job. With some planning, saving and good network connections, you can actually leave your job before you secure another job. Yes, it is a bit risky. And I admit that I don't know if I would have taken this path if it wasn't chosen for me** (thank you company that shall not be named). But imagine the possibilities: An opportunity to relax, unwind, reevaluate who you are and what you are doing (without the added incessant job searching that accompanies unexpected layoffs), catch up on your life.***

At a time like this, when more than ever we're eschewing vacation time to work 60+ hours a week, a complete planned break - sans the Blackberry - could far outweigh the benefits of staying at a job that weighs you down more and more each day.

* Disclaimer: The synopsis links to an article titled "Five Ways to Bungle a Job Change," which is actually a very relevant look at screwing up the outbound process. But let's just keep this related to the synopsis, shall we? 
** I am legitimately unemployed, Texas Workforce Commission. You verified this already.
*** Not to insinuate that I am not actively searching for a new job, Texas Workforce Commission. But hey, when not searching or networking, I do stop to smell the wisteria.

Day 61 - F*#^ Goes Mainstream

Are we sure Joe Biden isn't from Texas?

Our esteemed VP has pushed f*** into mainstream. As a native curser myself (it's truly like a second language to me), I thank you Mr. Vice President. It's only a matter of time before the term completes its mainstream trek and appears on job applications, news programs and cooking shows.

Now, what's the time line for *#&^, @("#@ and (my personal favorite) *&$^#%@#^?

Day 60 - Thank You, Math Teachers

I hated math in school. Not passionately, mind you - not with a fervor that eventually includes explosives and/or a cabin in the neck scruff of the woods. More like hatred combined with annoyance. The kind that bubbles up when a mosquito bites you after you've already been bitten 20 times and you're out of bug juice.

However, kudos to my math teachers. (That's how much I hated math classes. I can't remember any of my math teachers' names. I can remember English and history teachers. Heck, even a phys ed teacher from elementary school. Math teachers - nary a one.)  My math teachers taught me the value of addition and multiplication, which came in handy while reading this article by Andy Rooney.

First off, I like Andy Rooney. Anyone who can spout out contrary points of view with a frame of reference from the Great Depression is immediately high up on my list. He has experience and I respect that.  But is it relevant now when it comes to job searching?

Says Andy:  

More college graduates ought to become plumbers or electricians, then, go home at night and read Shakespeare.
 
First of all, thanks for ruining the dreams of graduates everywhere who once hoped to rise to the lofty heights of middle management jobs dependent upon quoting the bard.

Secondly, hello hello math. I could spend a majority of my time trying to land a job waiting tables or punching a register but I'd have to stand in line behind the hundreds of other overqualified applicants waiting for the same job. (Remember, this is Austin. You pretty much need a Masters in order to wait tables here. Need I remind you of the Masters recipient that couldn't find a minimum wage job? And, should I try to become a plumber or electrician, I'd need to go back to school for training and certifications.) And then, working 60 hours a week I probably still wouldn't make as much (Ha - I say this like Unca Sam is showering me with diamonds and furs) as I do with unemployment benefits. And taking unemployment benefits allows me to focus full time on a search for a full-time job (and attend interviews without scheduling conflicts) so I can get off said benefits as soon as possible.

I'm not being a snot, Andy. And neither are a lot of other people out there looking for jobs. We're not afraid of working with our hands. We're trying to find jobs - ways to contribute to the world that makes sense and that lets us use our skills in a logical manner. We're far from dreamers. We've got reality up to our eyeballs - bills to pay, families to support and worries. Beat your drum in your mansion when there are plenty of jobs, when companies aren't shrinking left and right, when unemployment isn't 10 percent for the country. Then you can call us choosy.

Until then, I'm doing the math and pushing for interviews.

Day 59 - The Penny Shimmy and Unfaithful Spouse (This Rant Starts with the Letter ... )

One of my* online job search resources shipped me** an article about how to "remain empowered after months of job searching."

Fabulous. Great advice. "Keep searching. Oh - and work out and eat right, you lazy sardine!"

Want to know my secret? Actually find a frackin' job. Then, after months and months (or years) of dancing for pennies*** during interviews (I can cabbage patch, wanna see? Wanna see?), you can finally settle ("settle" being the operative word) down and marry the mediocre "spouse" of your dreams (probably for a couple of months to a year or until said spouse finds someone who can do your job cheaper. Like a 20 year old with no degree.) And live happily (not so) ever after.**** 

* Guest post by Grump E. McGrumpgrump. Hard to believe, right?
**Again, guest post. By someone far grumpier (eviler) than I (usually) am - a Mr. Hyde to my Dr. Jeckyll, a Faith to my Buffy (if only I were as cool as Faith), a Meat Lovers to my Veggie Delight  ... you get the idea now, doncha?
***Watch the clip to the end. It's Christopher Walken. And he's re-al-ealllllly working for his pennies. 
**** Ok, maybe it's time for bed now. Grump is full-blown Godzilla now! (Click the link, click the link!)

Day 56 - B2B Hangover

I've been selling to businesses (B2B) for waaaaaayyyyy too long. It's usually a long, drawn out process (for enterprise-level software it could range a couple of years) that necessitates a lot of relationship and credibility building. After today, I'm beginning to think I took the long, thorny, uphill path to the ice cream shop instead of the paved, air conditioned one populated by smiling people and their beautiful offspring.

I should have been selling to consumers. (For my seven readers, some of who might not be familiar with marketing, that is commonly abbreviated as B2C.)

Case in point:

Tilling the overflow of my apartment (organizing two closets) yielded a few nuggets of crap. Fortunately, it was crap that I could easily siphon off via Craigslist (what I call eBay without all that auctioning hoopla.) 

Fifty words, one picture and three hours later, I'm in the parking lot of my complex brandishing some DVDs and waiting for $40. As the buyer approaches, I'm working out a strategy, thinking of small talk to build a rapport, maybe bring up the history of the TV series and my ownership of said property ... all those steps you normally consider in a B2B environment (read "tons of extra boot licking for the moola.")

AND ... the whole process took three seconds. Three seconds!

Four words exchanged, three sets of DVDs handed over, two more bills added to the coffers. That easy. 

Yep, I should have gone into B2C.  Definitely.
 

Day 55 - St. Patrick's Day - A Tale for the Unemployed

Let's take the tale of St. Patrick and trick it out for modern times, shall we? For modern times - and the unemployed!

At the tender age of 16, Britain-born Patrick was kidnapped [by an evil corporation] and forced into slavery [unpaid internship] in Ireland.While there, he was visited in his dream by the CEO of the leading faith-based inspirational organization. Inspired, he broke free from captivity [take this job and shove it!] and returned home to study to be a priest [continuing education.]  After joining the priesthood, he returned to Ireland as a bishop [MBA in hand]. Mostly, he converted the rich [in accordance with his business strategy] so that they could support the church [and thus create new revenue streams.] But he did bring in a fair amount of poor converts [aka your modern day Americans. Spend further into debt, peons!] He accomplished this by using a shamrock to demonstrate the Holy Trinity [the least expensive promotional giveaway ever.] 

Today, we celebrate his accomplishments by wearing cheap plastic green accessories and overindulging in beer [Enron style, bay-beee!] 

The end.

Day 54 - This Just About Categorizes my Frame of Mind Right Now

Second Notice

Day 51,

Now you've taken day 52 with you too? Poaching company employees is an offense punished by a stringent tongue lashing, much gnashing of the teeth and many empty threats. You, sir, shall hear from our lawyers.

Insincerely,
Human Resources
That Unemployed Chick in Austin
Yes, we realize the irony in our signature. 

Notice

Day 51,

It has come to our notice that you did not appear for work as scheduled. You also did not tell your supervisors of your inability to report to work. As a result, the entry for day 51 is nonexistent, which severely inconveniences the seven people that read this blog. Please contact your supervisors as soon as possible to discuss this situation.

Insincerely,
Human Resources
That Unemployed Chick in Austin
Yes, we realize the irony in our signature. 

Day 53 - The Great White Male Ceiling

Twelve years in technology. Twelve years. And I'm still blinded by the white-toned, sausage-laden beings that constitute company leadership. Sure, every now and then a woman pops up (usually as VP of HR or marketing.) But mostly, it's the great white male way in the boardroom and C-suite.

I have very low tolerance for these hierarchical snow flurries. (Flakes, flakes, flakes!) And then I read a story like this and the rankle soars to unbridled pissed-offness. 

Allow me to recap the article's* subject (as I see it), from the point of view of the government and businesses.

Thanks for dropping by today, businesses. I'm super stoked to have you all here.
Thanks. We're not too stoked to be here, really. Unless you're giving us money.
Fair enough. I've been going through your filings and I've discovered some surprising findings.
Look, about that whole fraud thing ...
Oh no no. Not that. I already talked to George in accounting about that. That's taken care of. This is something else.
What is it?
Look, I'm going to be frank. There just aren't enough chicks on your boards. 
This again? We hear this from a lot of people, but we didn't think you'd be on us about this. We let women work. We even promote them to nice, plump, mid-management jobs. Sometimes even VP level. There have even been cases of women, like, leading companies. Leading companies!
Yeah, but I'm getting some sh*t and this time it isn't going away. Get some women on your boards or I'll have to enact a law that compels you to do so. 
Really? Really? Look. We've been over this before. There just aren't any qualified women out there.
None? No business-savvy, well-educated women at all that could contribute to the companies' senior leadership?
Seriously. None. We looked in, like, five places. Four or five.  
Yeah, really?
Yeah. They just aren't suitable for board positions. Mostly they just aren't trained, you know? Don't have the experience. They're in, like, accounting or marketing or human resources.** 
Do what you have to do but there better be some dolls in your seats or else you'll be hearing from me. No more money my friend. And a keener eye on your filings.  
Flippin' Scandinavia.***

****

* Disclaimer: This article focuses on companies/women in Europe. Because in America, we just don't have an issue like this. Not at all.

** Direct quote from article. Not me being a total ass.
*** Apparently, this whole notion of enforcing female quotas on boards started in Scandinavia about two years ago.  They are truly an enlightened people.
**** Basically, the gist of the article is that making boards elect female directors isn't the answer to the problem. The article basically says that if we truly want qualified women on boards, we should start training young so that they are prepared and can positively contribute to a company's leadership. That makes sense. However, let's just take a ride on the honest train. These changes won't happen unless they are mandated and companies are held accountable to them. Men have been the dominant members of boards since, well, the dawn of business. Do you think deeply ingrained practices like that are going to change out of good will? Why not just wish that all businesses stop laying off folks and avoid concentrating on the almighty dollar/pound/euro, etc.?
 

Day 50 - Talk Dirty to Me

I must be in a ginger in Mayberry answering to the name of Opie Cunningham because every damn rejection letter I get is so sanitized it is practically useless. Seriously. You have to read them three times before you realize why they were sent. And they smell (even the e-mails) faintly of Lysol.

Give me rudeness. Give me directness. Even give me childish (as in evil runts on the playground taunting the girl with the big feet or the boy with  first and last names that rhyme.) Here are some excerpts from my proposed rejection letters:

• You smelled funny.
• Were you hitting on Mr. Jenks during the interview? We looked at the video and the jury's out. And so are you.
• Frankly, you gave us the creeps.
• Yeah, you just would not fit in with our crowd.
• Nice skills. But not enough.
• You really shouldn't have said that crap about work/life balance.
• You're waaaaay too smart and motivated. You'll make the others look bad.
• We kind of get off on making our interviewees prance about. And we love all the free consulting you did for us in the process.  We'll use that sh*t. But, you never even had a shot. No hard feelings, eh?
• Oh yeah. Earl from accounting wanted that position. He's never done PR but we'll give him a shot. I mean, how hard can it be?

When that day comes and I get that rejection letter - that beautiful, beautiful rejection letter that embraces the spirit of brutal honesty - then I'll know that our race has evolved into a higher state of being.

Day 49 - Let the Wooing Begin

In the absence of a regular paycheck (no offense, unemployment checks, but your daddy - Unca Sam - wouldn't want me to think of you as a long-term relationship), I'm working on getting some freelance jobs.

If someone could kabuki my wooing routine, the performance would probably go something like:

*Chime*
Strut, strut, strut. 
Fan multicolored tail feathers. 
Tip wing in salute.
Strut, strut.
Leap high.
Tilt head.
Crow. 
Peck food. 
*Gong*"

So, maybe it needs some work. All pitches do. It's an evolutionary process.

Holy Sh**- Worthy Severance

During one of the many firing scenes in Up in the Air, they reference an (ex)employee's severance package: three months pay, six months medical and work placement assistance.

Damn. If only I (and many of my colleagues) got that sweet of a deal.

And PS: Not always so fun to watch firings.

Day 48 - He Loves Me, He Loves Me ... Not

So imagine the moxy of me. I interview for a job that (frankly) I'm not enthused about. The pay, definitely not (think 40% decrease from previous job. Hey, I realize that I'll need to be flexible with pay in this buyer's market, but really - do I have to plummet immediately down into the gutter? Can't there be some gentle medium? Maybe a light episode of soaring. I am contributing a few skills here.)  Anyhoo (pronounced any-who), the job, maybe. The company - no burning urgency to glum onto that buckwheat.

But I still have the nerve to be irked when I find out I didn't get the job. As one friend wisely pointed out, "The guy you're not interested in dumped you." Dagnabit.

The house. It is clean.

Closet cleaned. Front closet organized. Clothes in piles for Goodwill. Carpets vacuumed. Counters wiped. Floors swept. Dressers and gee-gaws dusted.

Martha Stewart, you can suck it.

Uh, sorry. What did you say?

Interview burnout. I gotz it.

[Insert humble sentiment here. Something like: I appreciate the opportunity to interview. In this crazy buyer's market, it's a privilege to get in phone or face time. There, disclaimer and ego suppressant is activated. Blog post can continue.]

I've had about six interviews in the past week and a half. And another slated for tomorrow.  The interview cells in my brain, at least those surviving the networking happy hours, are fatigued. They reduce most interview responses to either single-syllable responses (which is not really that bad) or rambling, irrelevant  doctorates (five minutes of non-committal responses that usually don't answer the question and end with me saying, "Did I answer your question?" because I know I didn't.)

For example: One interview yesterday with an HR rep netted several awkward pauses, verbal stumbling and spacey answers (stumbling and spacey brought to you by yours truly.) It was one of the most painful 15 minutes of my life. In today's interview, two of them I knocked out of the park (and the ball, if I had actually seen it soar, probably would have landed outside of the park on the head of a burglar stealing food from the homeless at a church after said burglar beat up an elderly lady. Boo. Yah.) The third, well, that one shoved my teeth up through my mouth top, through my sinuses and settled dangerously close to my eyeballs.

Fortunately, my afternoon interview was less damaging to my general facial structure. Still, the burnout - it is there. What's the best way to kick this? Do I take a break? Do I turn an interview down? (Well, that doesn't seem logical.) Perhaps be a little bit more discriminating about my applications (which is actually not an option due to unemployment benefits requisites)? Do I pellet myself with tons and tons of interviews - mock or real - until my brain overloads and reboots (potentially turning me into a drooling lug as well)? Hire someone to be my double? Run away with the circus? Cut off all my hair? Wow. Possibilities are unlimited here. Truly.

Streeeeeetttttcccccchhhhhhhhh

Thank you, unemployment, for allowing me to amass quite a stunning collection of sweat pants. 

 

And this ain't the whole collection. Fabulous.

And in case you're curious, yes, I had to use a flashlight to get this picture. No, I do not keep my legendary collection of sweat pants in a dungeon replete with cheap wire shelving. The bulb is out in my closet and I'm about, oh, two feet short of being able to replace it. Soon, soon. It's on the list.

Day 47 - Slap the Haunches

Here's a new twist in the job search process: Not an interview, but a meet and greet.

Yes, I have a 15 minute appointment today to meet potential co-workers for a job I've applied for. The recruiter announced that it was "informal" and would last "15 minutes." No resumes allowed! What can you accomplish in 15 minutes? Immediate comradery? Or perhaps a quick chance to evaluate appearance?

It makes me think of a horse auction.

Thanks for coming. We have a team here that will examine your teeth, check your hooves and then lead you around the track once or twice to see your cantor. We also have your medical records too. Whoa, Nellie. Settle down. Settle down, girl. 

Update: It was actually like speed dating. Two other candidates for the job were sitting in the waiting room. HR pulled us all three into the room to roundabout with three different employees/interviewers. Not bad. Actually more interesting than the usual interview. But no, I didn't bring home any digits. Ha!

Day 43 - Is Rio Hungry Like the Wolf?

A friend told me that Simon Le Bon crashed her friend's wedding in Dallas during the Duran Duran reunion tour (Isn't always a friend of a friend?)  And she said it like it was a bad thing.

I am here to say this: Simon Le Bon (or any other 80s pop icon), you are welcome to crash any of my gatherings that you so desire. Pop in, drink the expensive champagne (not the cheap stuff set out for guests), insult a granny or two, grab the mic and start ranting with well-placed f-bombs, perhaps break a table. All of this is perfectly acceptable. Heck, I may even get married if it increases my chances.

I can see the Craig's List ad now.

Need a green card? US citizen/woman looking for husband for quasi-sham wedding ceremony. Must be a nonsmoker open to possible sightings of wrung out pop stars. Perhaps that guy from Cutting Crew.

Nothing Like a Little Motivation

It's too early in the morning to tell if this is a fail or pass, but it does smell a little hinky. Here's a line from an e-mail urging job hunters to band together on a project:

The Germans made POWs build their own prison camps the unintended consequence was that it built a bitchin esprit de corps. Let's start stringing barbed wire!!

Has it turned yet? Is the mayonnaise bad?

Day 42 - How Old is that Tree?

Pet peeve: I hate it when people trade primarily on how long they've been in the industry. (For example: I am more than 10 years of experience in competitive eating. I excel at the consumption of Spam.)

Yes, it can be a helpful tactic that allows recruiters to see right off the bat that you've done your time (or have just been sentenced.) However, if someone can only take one thing away from your conversation, do you want it to be how many rings the tree has? And to be perfectly honest, I've known people with decades of experience who are total idjuts.

To me, it's like earning an MBA. I've known quite a few MBAs and most have not impressed me. There. I said it. If you have an MBA and are offended, please get your Excel files and business plans together and you may hurl them at me during my public stoning. I believe it is scheduled for next Wednesday. Put it on your calendar.

Day 41 - I'll Take Jackass for $2,000, Bob

In the business world, if ya do right then you'll (most likely) get the credit you deserve (providing that some southcheek-kissing fool or VP doesn't try to steal it from you.) However, if you mess up you wear it like a scarlet letter for the rest of your term. Be it big, be it small, you now have a badge of work distinction that as apparent as dandruff, pimples, farts and rogue facial hairs all mushed together.

You are the anti-Superman (or woman if you're fussy about that stuff.)

Here is where my patented idea (in my mind) comes into play. Take a moment and welcome ... the Jackass Pass.

We all make mistakes. Now, there's a principle that dissolves the lingering odor of work failure faster than a fan, Lysol and cheap candles combined. If embraced properly, this idea empowers companies - and their once-in-a-while erring employees - to continue to grow and develop sans stigma. Allow me to illustrate.

Setting: Conference room filled with varying levels of corporate beancounters, bigwigs and marketers. You are presenting.

Potential area of concern: After your presentation, Brad the Blackberry Abuser asks a question - a question that has already been answered in your presentation. Your reaction? "Brad, if you'd get your ass out of your smart phone during a presentation you'd know the answer to that question." (Ok, so that's strong response but let's face it - we've all had those days and sometimes logic doesn't have a say. Besides, you worked your butt off on that presentation. Can't he frickin' pay attention for 15 minutes?)

Assessment: The bad news: You just overstepped the limited boundary of office etiquette. You are in danger of wearing the red S. The good news: Take the Jackass Pass.

Implementation: "Looks like I snapped a bit, Brad. I'm calling in my jackass pass." Reaction from the crowd. "Oh - she took the Jackass Pass. Slate's clean. Let's move on." Now, if this really plays out properly, then Brad the Blackberry Abuser would step up and say, "Yeah, I should have put that BB down. Jackass Pass." And by thus invoking the Jackass Pass, both you and Brad get a clean slate with no grudges, blackmarks and/or flip judgements by the witnesses. (Accountability is a beautiful, fragile notion. Maybe even a dream.)

The Jackass Pass extends to all sizes of screw ups (minus the kinds that screw shareholders and employees on a massive, fraudy level) from dropping the ball to failed launches. The Jackass Pass works 100% - no scarlet S, no hallway whispering, no worries about job security. Simply take the Jackass Pass. 

The Jackass Pass. Because we're all (mostly) human.

Day 39 - According to Studies, Teenagers are Jerks (when you're Jobless)

Being unemployed is tough, right? Stressful, right? Perhaps a little bit boring, right?

Well, if you have a teenager, be prepared for extra stress.  According to an emotional intelligence expert (which you can become after three easy online courses and $500 tuition), immediate family (aka spouse and kiddos)
feel the stress of unemployment by proxy. Here's an article - with the best title ever - that elaborates. 

Trust me. It's worth a click.