Five O'Clock World

Up every mornin just to keep a job
I gotta fight my way through the hustling mob
Sounds of the city poundin in my brain
While another day goes down the drain

But its a five oclock world when the whistle blows
No one owns a piece of my time
And theres a five oclock me inside my clothes
Thinkin that the world looks fine, yeah
The Vogues, "Five O'Clock World"

Today is a holiday. You could have fooled me. While millions of Americans spent their day off, complaining about the bleak weather forecast, preparing their tots for the first day of school, or just blissfully enjoying a time away from the ball and chain (no, not their spouses, their cubicles), the only thing different about this day from the other 90 days this summer for me was the constant stream of movies on TNT and actually having a body next to mine as I emerge from my slumber. I wonder: How do you participate in a holiday for a mass of people that you are not a part of?

Apparently, I am not alone in my non-participation in this holiday.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/32723102/ns/business-careers/

I did not need the sub headline to tell me that there are six eager, pleading and desperate workers for each job available. I figured this out last night as I started running my job searches. I decided that I would spend the holiday glued to my computer, improving my resume (I am still looking for the magic words, folks), looking in every nook and cranny the interwebs has to offer, leaving no stone unturned. That lasted all of an hour. After a six county search for state jobs, I came up with fewer listings that before and none that I would qualify for. Let me correct that statement. I am perfectly capable of doing the jobs, but my age has restricted me from acquiring the necessary experiences to prove I can do them. Monster.com was an even bigger fail. Unless you have an RN license or CPA training, you are pretty much useless in the local job market. I forgot to mention that FU owns a a majority of the metropolitan area (no joke, their logo is plastered on nearly every building, street corner, streetlamp, street trashcan, cop car, bum, etc), so that banishes a large part of my hometown industry from my consideration.

"It's hard to maintain your focus that you're a valuable member of society when you go three months and nobody really wants to employ you," says David O'Bryan, 59, of Barre, Vt. The article goes on to read that he keeps a journal to jot down his unemployed thoughts about unemployment.

David, I feel your pain. I have lost count of the number of applications, resumes, inquiries I have sent out. I am going to say at least 70. I initially started throwing my net wider and further, optimistically. I would not be unemployed longer than a month, I surmised. But as the rejection letters became more frequent, each one blandly and coldy admonishing me by declaring that I was not even qualified to use alphabetical order for filing folders (clearly, a BA and 11 years in the workforce leaves you unprepared to handle the little joys of office management), my search little by little became less scrupulous and encompassing. Perhaps 70 applications, cover letters, resumes, list of references is meager if you really want a job in this market. Perhaps I have become a discouraged worker.

Discouraged worker. That's a misnomer. There is no work to make us 'a worker'.

"I'm finding the process of trying to get into schools both tedious and frustrating. I wish I could have some concrete feedback on why I'm not being hired. Overweight? No para-educator certificate in effect? No confidence in my ability to perform the job?"

Feedback would be nice. In fact, I think it should be federally mandated to provide an interviewed reject with blunt feedback as to why they are not being hired. I think if I take the time to buy pantyhose, drive 45 minutes into town, pay for parking, sweat in a suit while diplomatically answering uncomfortable questions, laugh at bad jokes and spend 44 cents to send a handwritten thank you note on fine stationary, the least you can do is pull a Simon Cowell and tell me why you didn't like me. Because frankly, I am a little confused. In the past, I turned down job offers instead of groveling for them. I am not certain what in my resume or demeanor has ostracized me to the Untouchable caste.

I am pretty thick-skinned when it comes to constructive criticism. In fact, the nastier, the better. I wish I had gotten some scathing feedback before my boss canned me instead of silently hating me. I even asked my frigid, battle axe supervisor exactly what was so offensive about my job performance that would compel her smile to my face everyday for nine months, even up to the minute thereof, and tell me that I was essentially useless, particularly when I was fulfilling my job duties as outlined. She was unable to render an answer, simply elaborating by saying she "couldn't put her finger on it." I resisted the temptation to tell her that was the "exact" response I was looking for as I signed my letter of resignation and just "exactly" where she could file that.

Labor Secretary Hilda Solis' advice to the unemployed: "I would tell those workers and families not to lose sight of hope."

Note to the Unemployed: Labor Secretary Hilda Solis has what all of you want. A job.

(PS: We "discouraged workers" are also fed up with the frequent headlines proclaiming that jobless claims are down and things are looking up. Obviously, not for many of us.)