CeeBee: CareerBuilder.com's Job Search SmartyPants

Journal of a Job Seeker -- Final Entry: Job Seeker No More!

The following is the final entry in a series a member of the CareerBuilder.com community is sharing with us regarding losing his job and searching for a new one. At his request, we are withholding his real name so that he can relay his experiences with his former company and potential employers with impunity.

"Joe" (his nom de blog) is 45 years old and was let go from a management position at a major consumer products company. He relocated with his family to take the job a little over a year ago. He has agreed to write an online diary for us about his experience.

I got a job! And not a crappy one, like my in-laws said I would. It's with a great company, with a better title and higher pay than my previous position.

There is one catch, though. It involves a move across country to one of the few markets more expensive than Westchester County Northern California's Bay Area! But my wife is up for it, and as my son said, "I've always wanted to see the Pacific Ocean."

Every now and then things just fall into place. Granted, I worked my tail off for this opportunity, but as I've stated before, I worked my tail off for a lot of things that didn't pan out. Thankfully, this one did and none too soon.

I do know that I got better at the whole job hunt thing as time wore on. Since part of the reason I was "let go" from my other job was that my boss and I had personality clashes, I overcompensated on my first interview by trying too hard to be likeable. The feedback was that I didn't have enough confidence or "fire in the belly."

After my next interview, I learned from a contact that my rendition of confidence and "fire in the belly" came across as cocky and arrogant.

It was about then I decided to just be myself, and things began feeling better. Sure there were a number of interviews where I got my hopes up and never heard from the company again. But as long as I was prepared and had done my best, I decided to let the chips fall where they may and to try to enjoy -- and grow -- from the process.

One thing I did along the way -- which I believe clinched this offer for me -- was to assemble a wide range of references at the highest levels possible. I knew I couldn't count on a rave review from my former boss, so I approached people with whom I had good working relationships higher up in the organization.

If you haven't searched for a job lately, a word of a caution: Companies are very careful about whom they hire these days and conduct thorough background checks. Be honest about your experience and work history and don't inflate your past salary, because they'll ask for your W-2. This is an indignity even greater than having to urinate in a cup for the drug test -- but one I bore with gratitude.

At my wife's insistence, before starting the new job, I've confronted past mistakes that led to my getting fired from my previous position. To wit: I was a little lazy, had a bit of an attitude and may have conducted too many personal affairs from my cubicle. (Oh, did I mention I'll now have an office? Anyway, I digress... )

At first I resented her for wanting to perform a career autopsy at a time when I should be gloating and savoring my victory, but I know it may help spare us all a repeat of the stress and uncertainty of these past five months -- as well as ensure that I make the most of this new opportunity.

As I get ready to embark on this exciting adventure, I remember all of the wonderful people -- some of them friends of friends of friends, whom I didn't even know -- who gave me their time, leads and assistance. I will continue to stay in touch with my new expanded network. And I vow to extend the same support to any job seeker who comes to me for help.

And lastly, I wish to impart a few words of encouragement to others who have been let go and are looking for work:

Stay busy. The antidote to fear is action! Develop daily plans and structures to keep you focused on your job search goal.

Stay productive. Take time to analyze what went wrong at your old job, learn from it -- and then put it behind you and move on. (And for goodness sakes don't bring it up in an interview.)

Stay connected. In addition to perusing job postings in the paper, trade magazines and on the Internet, call every contact you have. There are jobs out there; it's just that many of them are not advertised. It's true what they say, networking will get you working faster than any other job search method.

Stay positive. Remember your strengths and all you have to offer an employer. Take care of your mental and physical health, and hang around with optimists. And if all else fails, remember that the Chicago White Sox won the World Series -- so eventually, things are going to turn around for you, too.

Journal of a Job Seeker -- Part Seven: Thank You, Sir, May I Please Have Another?

The following is the seventh in a series of journal entries a member of the CareerBuilder.com community is sharing with us regarding losing his job and searching for a new one. At his request, we are withholding his real name so that he can relay his experiences with his former company and potential employers with impunity.

"Joe" (his nom de blog) is 45 years old and was let go from a management position at a major consumer products company. He relocated with his family to take the job a little over a year ago. He has agreed to write an online diary for us about his experience.

I'm beginning to wonder if hiring hasn't become some type of hazing ritual for companies. In fact, I've found this whole job hunt to be a lot like pledging a fraternity -- without the beer, the girls and the camaraderie.

I recently was asked to fly across country for an interview. To apparently save money on lodging, the company booked me on a 6:50 a.m. flight out of JFK. Five hours later, I arrived at their offices and was kept waiting 45 minutes before being escorted into a conference room, where it seemed the entire department had been assembled for a panel interview.

They asked me to tell them about myself. Then as each took turns asking me questions, things got strange. One guy asked me to name 10 ways to find a needle in a haystack. Another wanted to know how many gallons of water it took to put out an average house fire. It was when my would-be counterpart picked up the stapler on the table and asked me to "sell" it to him that I started having flashbacks of my days as a pledge, performing demeaning stunts to amuse the actives.

Not sure how well I did. Their mentioning that they were seeing a lot of great candidates wasn't encouraging. But one interviewer did take me to a somewhat awkward lunch in the company cafeteria before escorting me to small room where I was administered a psychological test. From there, I was shuttled off to the airport, and, due to flight delays, got home at 3 a.m.

When my wife asked me how it went, I told her it was like hell week crammed into one incredibly long day. Frankly, I would have preferred to have been paddled, stripped naked and tied to a tree.

But the experience wasn't nearly as painful as getting the rush of getting a call from some big-name company where everyone seems cool and treats you great; where you thought you did really well and connected with the interviewer and went home and waited for the phone to ring with an offer; and then finally had to face the fact that you didn't make the cut.

The natural (but self-destructive) reaction is to feel resentful and put down by their: "We hire for excellence," recruiting slogan, which implies: "If we don't choose you, you must not be excellent."

Here's where it comes in handy to have a strong support network and a healthy ego. This will keep you from feeling overly panicked, despondent or desperate -- and check your impulse to pour yourself a double, eat a whole box of Krispy Kremes or call that great company you interviewed with but haven't heard back from every few hours asking, "Have you made a decision yet? How about now? How about now? How about now?"

So, after my first painful rejection, I decided to get out and find my own band of brothers (and sisters). I've signed up as a reading mentor at my son's school, am chairing a committee to help improve our town's quality of education without raising property taxes, and have become an active member of the volunteer fire department.

My life is meaningful, I'm developing new skills, I'm meeting new people -- and my days have some much-needed structure. Keeping busy is helping me bring more energy, optimism and perspective to my job search. And the better I feel about myself, the better I'm able to present myself as a candidate.

I'm beginning to wear my G.D.I. (gosh darned independent) status as a badge of honor. Working out with the other firefighters gives me a sense of belonging; and though I'm not exactly ripped, I do look better.

Not only that, next time an interviewer asks me how many gallons of water it takes to put out the average house fire, I'll have a pretty good answer.

Journal of a Job Seeker -- Part Six: The Upside of Being Unemployed

The following is the sixth in a series of journal entries a member of the CareerBuilder.com community is sharing with us regarding losing his job and searching for a new one. At his request, we are withholding his real name so that he can relay his experiences with his former company and potential employers with impunity.

"Joe" (his nom de blog) is 45 years old and was let go from a management position at a major consumer products company. He relocated with his family to take the job a little over a year ago. He has agreed to write an online diary for us about his experience.

One suffers all kinds of indignities while looking for work, and I'm no exception. I ran into my ex-boss at Costco while sporting three day's beard-growth and an industrial-sized bag of maxi pads in my cart. I called to follow up with a hiring manager I had interviewed with a few weeks before, only to have him tell me point-blank he could not remember having ever met me. And I've been put on hold for over 20 minutes -- giving up only after my wife gently touched me on the shoulder and said, "Honey, I don't think they're coming back."

At times I feel like a piñata at a five-year-old's birthday party. But I press on -- drawing strength from the sage advice of my grandmother (and Monty Python): "Always look on the bright side of life."

In that spirit, here are six good things about being unemployed:

1. I am in good company. Extremely successful individuals have lost jobs against their will: Michael Bloomberg was let go from Salomon Brothers in the 80s; Lee Iacocca was fired from Ford before going on to become the legendary CEO of Chrysler; Oprah Winfrey was axed from her reporter job because the production chief thought she was unfit for TV; Winston Churchill got kicked to the curb after helping to save England and much of the free world from Nazi rule; and even Gidget the Chihuahua got dropped like a jalapeño pepper after giving Taco Bell the best ad campaign it had ever had.

2. I look better than I have in years. Now that I have more free time and flexibility, I work out at the YMCA, run with a friend three times a week and make sure I eat my seven servings of fruits and vegetables. With the help of a neighbor who is in men's retail, I've learned what "season" I am, purged my closet of all out-of-date and unflattering items and picked up a few new things at the outlet mall. Oh, and I've stopped washing my face with deodorant soap.

3. I spend more time with my wife. Now that we're no longer a dual-income family, I have more time to spend with my wife. Granted some of that time is spent arguing, worrying and popping antacid tablets -- but we're together.

4. No more commute. Rush-hour traffic and road rage are but a memory. And we save over $100 a month on gasoline, too.

5. No more Longaberger baskets. It was always hard saying no to my wife's friends (or friend's wives) who have home-based businesses. No matter how good the product, you knew if you really needed a basket -- and who really needs a whole collection? -- you could get one for a fraction of the cost at Target. Now my wife has a viable excuse.

6. What doesn't kill me makes me stronger. History proves that success is not always built on success. Just as often it is built on failure and near-catastrophe. So I think of this as a character-building experience and a chance to prove my resilience. I plan to keep on keeping on and to show the lousy bastards who fired me just how wrong they were. As every job hunting expert will tell you: the new job goes not to the most brilliant, or even the most qualified, but to the most motivated, persistent and prepared.

Journal of a Job Seeker -- Part Five: The First Interview

The following is the fifth in a series of journal entries a member of the CareerBuilder.com community is sharing with us regarding losing his job and searching for a new one. At his request, we are withholding his real name so that he can relay his experiences with his former company and potential employers with impunity.

"Joe" (his nom de blog) is 45 years old and was let go from a management position at a major consumer products company. He relocated with his family to take the job a little over a year ago. He has agreed to write an online diary for us about his experience.

Not bad if I do say so myself. Just two weeks into my search and I've already lined up my first interview. Not only that, they're flying me into Omaha so that I can meet with the entire team in back-to-backs.

I've scoured the company's Web site, annual report and 10-K and run an EBSCO search. Next, I sit down and prepare responses to the old standards: Why do you want to work here? What do you bring to the table? What are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?

As I do this, my wife is looking for houses on Realtor.com. "Wow!" she enthuses. "If you get this job, we could live like kings."

It's true. While in our Westchester Co., New York neighborhood, $1 million buys you little more than a starter home, in the greater Omaha area, you could buy a palatial estate for considerably less.

My wife wants to role play with me. (I decline.) Then she decides I need a makeover. "It's been 16 years since you've been on the market, Joe. You need to update your packaging."

"I'm fine," I mutter.

"But, you're over 40, and it's a competitive market. Polishing your image could give you that edge you need," she says as she enters with an armload of skin- and hair-care products.

"Oh, no," I say. "I'm a man. You're not puttin' that stuff in my hair."

"Okay," she sighs, as she goes back to surfing the listings on Realtor.com. "But at least go out and get yourself a pair of pleatless pants."

I roll my eyes and say, "It's Omaha, for chrissakes -- land of parkas and beef."

She sticks out her tongue and prints out pages of her Nebraskan dream home.

Fast-forward to interview day. I arrive in Omaha, where it's 30 degrees colder than when I left New York. I enter the corporate lobby, shivering in my parka, as smooth-skinned men in complicated hairstyles and leather jackets walk by.

In fact, I see so much black leather, it's almost more New York than New York. Has the whole world gone metrosexual?

The interviews go reasonably well, but I have to admit, I do feel a bit out-of-date and under-moisturized. Maybe I should have exfoliated after all.

I call my wife on the way to the airport. She has already checked out neighborhood schools and downloaded information about the area's cultural institutions.

"I think it went well," I tell her, "but don't get too excited."

Then I settle in with a magazine and come across an article called, 'The Feminization of Men.' It's about how the definition of what it means to be a man is changing and why image and "soft skills" like emotional intelligence, listening and consensus-building are now essential for a man to get ahead in the workplace.

A few days later I get the call: "They really liked you, but they decided to go with another candidate."

"Any other feedback?" I ask.

"Well, they didn't think the job required someone with your extensive level of experience," the recruiter tells me.

I'm deflated. Then I start to stew. Was that the real reason? Or do they just want some young narcissist who's all style and no substance?

Hell, I've got a soft side: I cook, I've been to the Guggenheim, my wife and I even rented 'Something's Gotta Give' and watched 'Desperate Housewives' together last weekend.

I grab a beer from the fridge, catch my reflection in the sliding glass doors and call out: "Honey, do these pleated pants make me look fat?"

Journal of a Job Seeker - Part Four: Start Spreading the News

The following is the fourth in a series of journal entries a member of the CareerBuilder.com community is sharing with us regarding losing his job and searching for a new one. At his request, we are withholding his real name so that he can relay his experiences with his former company and potential employers with impunity.

"Joe" (his nom de blog) is 45 years old and was let go from a management position at a major consumer products company. He relocated with his family to take the job a little over a year ago. He has agreed to write an online diary for us about his experience.

The thing about getting fired near the holidays is that there are more social opportunities and gatherings than at any time of the year. This can either work to your advantage or be extremely awkward.

"Hey, how are you doing?" people ask. I cheerily say fine and make a little small talk. Inevitably the conversation turns to what I do for a living. Without self-pity or rancor, I reply that my company is reorganizing and I am looking for other opportunities. The response I get falls into one of four categories:

Thinly Veiled Revulsion Some flinch and back away -- as if afraid that the state of being unemployed is a virus they might catch.

Gloom and Doom Some launch into a tirade about how bad the economy is. "It's all Bush's fault!" "Recovery? What recovery! The only growth-market I see is servicing the unemployed!" "We're all going to hell in a handbasket and there's going to be trial and tribulation like we've never known." About this time, it is I who make a hasty retreat to the buffet table.

It Could Be Worse Others play a game of one-upmanship, assuring me that my plight could be much, much worse. I find this reaction preferable to the previous two, yet still not much of a pick-me-upper. It begins: "You think you've got problems ..." and ends with some poor sap who lost his job and either dies of a heart attack under the stress or chucks it all and winds up living in a van by the river.

I've Been There... How Can I Help? Fortunately, the most common response I get is empathy -- and offers of help. I am not alone. Nearly everybody -- or their spouse -- can relate to the pain of the pink slip. (Though for many in my Westchester county neighborhood, that pain is anesthetized by a golden parachute.)

Those who have been through this tell me it takes many months and not to get discouraged. Nearly all say their search followed the same dramatic trajectory: a promising start; some setbacks and disappointments, including several "sure things" that just seemed to fade away; a slow period where the phone didn't ring and they actually looked forward to getting spammed; and, finally, the simultaneous receipt of multiple job offers and the angst of having to choose the right one.

Despite what statistics of the unemployed and underemployed show, many say they landed either a better job or wound up in a more satisfying career. (Though that may just be bluster or the hot toddies talking.)

For my part, I always act relaxed and upbeat. I am careful never to portray myself as a victim or directly ask for help. (It's a party for gosh sakes!)

Though I admit I was dreading the thought of holiday gatherings and having to publicly admit that I am without a predictable professional future, I've actually enjoyed myself. I've even met three solid contacts and lined up two informational interviews.

Not only that. I've gotten out of the house, replenished my supply of jokes and been reminded that, despite getting fired, I really have a lot to celebrate after all.

Journal of a Job Seeker -- Part Three: The Morning After

The following is the third in a series of journal entries a member of the CareerBuilder.com community is sharing with us regarding losing his job and searching for a new one. At his request, we are withholding his real name so that he can relay his experiences with his former company and potential employers with impunity.

"Joe" (his nom de blog) is 45 years old and was let go from a management position at a major consumer products company. He relocated with his family to take the job a little over a year ago. He has agreed to write an online diary for us about his experience.

I wake up to the first official day of my new job: Finding a job. I set my alarm for 6 a.m. (Don't want to waste away a minute I could spend finding my great new position.) But there was no need; my sense of dread had me awake well before dawn.

I spent most the night thinking about what role I may have played in having my nose forcibly removed from the grindstone. Was it my indignation at being crammed into a cube? Could the boss tell how disgusted I used to get when he'd spend the better part of our staff meetings bragging about how much he bench-pressed the day before? Or was it my aggressive lack of interest in the work itself?

Enough soul-searching, I decide. Introspection has its place, but it will do nothing to salvage my current situation.

I charge out of bed, put on a pot of coffee and make my way down to what I call the "War Room" -- actually the unfinished portion of our basement which I've commandeered from my wife. I pack up her glue gun and other craft supplies and set up my bunker: Computer, check... Extension cord, check... Cell phone, check. Let the day begin!!!

I start calling everyone in my directory who may or may not have a lead. I tell them my plight -- well, at least my spin on it; I'm still technically employed for a few weeks before my three months of severance kick in, so I don't let on that I'm already fired and calling from my basement. No, I tell them my company is undergoing a lot of change and that I don't see much short- or long-term opportunity. I am ready for a new challenge.

People listen. They're sympathetic; some even offer leads or names of recruiters to call. I talk to two co-workers who are at the office. In furtive whispers they tell me I'm lucky. They say how much it sucks that I'm no longer there -- and that it happened so close to the holidays. They reveal how the boss called a staff meeting to divvy up my accounts. They admit some colleagues have been circling like vultures and that even my cubicle has been picked clean of all supplies and accoutrements.

Taking a page from Jerry Maguire, I call my former customers and let them know I'm on the market.

I re-work my résumé for the key accounts manager position open at our company's biggest competitor -- shamelessly inserting what I think are the keywords that will help it pass through the scanning software.

I get a call back from a contract recruiter doing a search and e-mail my new résumé off to her, too.

It's 3:30 p.m. I'm feeling pretty good about things, so I decide to rip open a bag of chips and burn a few CDs to celebrate. I am pleased with my progress, optimistic about my future and thrilled with my newfound flexibility. I begin to contemplate changing out of my pajamas and into some sweat pants when in walks my wife. By the look on her face, you'd think she'd caught me downloading porn or watching General Hospital. I make a few more calls then put together my to-do list for the next day. The first item reads: Get dressed to avoid annoying working members of household.

More to come...

Diary of a Job Seeker: Part II – Lessons my 6-year-old taught me

The following is the second in a series of journal entries from a member of the CareerBuilder.com community about losing a job and searching for a new one. At his request, his real name has been withheld so that he can relay his experiences with his former company and potential employers with impunity.

"Joe" (his nom de blog) is 45 years old and was let go from a management position at a major consumer products company. He relocated with his family to take the job a little more than a year ago. He has agreed to write an online diary about his experience.

I read once that most companies fire people on Tuesday mornings. That way the exiled workers have time to pull themselves together before going home to their families or, even worse, their empty apartment. It also gives them three days to begin their job search rather than sit and stew over a weekend.

I spent my Tuesday afternoon at the library pulling together a list of friends and contacts whom I could call to discuss my future plans. That evening I took my son, Jacob, to his indoor soccer league, which was finishing up its season.

Being temperamentally unsuited to coach 6-year-olds at anything, I sat in the stands and watched. Turnout was low, and they had to mix up teams. The volunteer coach designated two captains and had them choose sides.

I watched in agony as my son was one of the last picked. I felt an abject failure, not only as a professional but also as a role model for my child.

Even though there were barely enough kids to play, Jacob began the game on the sidelines. "Rejected like his father," I thought.

By the third quarter, I began to feel immense anger. "If they think he stinks so badly, let's leave," I fumed.

I began to put on my coat and storm down the bleachers when suddenly Jacob was put in as goalie.

A huge grin spread over his face as he skipped out onto the court. He was in the game.

I watched nervously as he danced about in the goal cheering as his team scored and watching tensely as the ball approached his goal. The other team's "captain" kicked the ball toward the goal, and Jacob jumped out and retrieved it. His teammates and their parents cheered.

Jacob began to hop up and down, pumping his spindly arms in the air. He was so elated he didn't see the next shot coming. It landed in the net for a goal.

My moment of euphoria ended, and thankfully, soon after, so did the game. The teams did their congratulatory hand slaps. As we rode home, I asked him if he had a good time. "Oh yes, it was awesome," he chirped.

That's when I realized I'd found my job-hunt mentor.

Jacob certainly isn't a star, but he always plays to please himself and have fun. No matter how many goals he lets by, no matter how many shots he misses, no matter how many hyper-competitive parents grumble at the coach to take Jacob out of the game, he comes back for more -- with an unwavering conviction that eventually he'll make it.

And it's not just on the soccer field. Who but an intractable optimist would keep asking to watch "Finding Nemo" after being refused 1,000 times? If he could keep getting up and starting over, so could I.

"How was your day, Dad?" he asked. "Not, so great," I answered. "But things will get better soon."

Eventually I'd tell him what had happened. But I wasn't going to spoil our moment. At least I knew I wouldn't be a loser in his eyes. (At least not for now -- it will be a couple of more years before he's a teenager.)

More to come...

Diary of a job seeker: Part I – Canned for Christmas

For the next few weeks, I’m going to dedicate this blog space to the story of a member of the CareerBuilder.com community.  The following is the first in a series of journal entries 45-year-old “Joe” (not his real name) is sharing about losing his job at a major consumer products manufacturer and searching for a new one.

After creeping up the ranks in sales and marketing at a major consumer products company, I was fired -- just days before Christmas. No lie. For weeks I'd been trying to talk to my manager about 2005 planning. Finally he agreed to meet with me.

When I entered his office, not only was my boss' boss present, but an HR representative from corporate headquarters was on the speakerphone. Wow. All this to hear my first pass at the 2005 revenue plan.

Not quite.

"We're not here to talk about that today," my boss intoned. Then, he began reading from a prepared script the words that ended my 15-year career with the company.

The severance package was stingy... especially for a guy from Wisconsin who just a year before had relocated to this job and New York's pricey Westchester County -- taking on a hefty mortgage, $18,000 in property taxes and an array of other expenses that come with living in the New York metro area.

I was promised three months' pay -- nothing close to the millions our former failed CEO got or even the golden parachute granted to a senior executive who was caught embezzling a few years back.

Those who have come back from a near-death experience say their life flashes before their eyes. What flashed before mine was the casual "chat" I'd had with my boss at a convention in San Francisco where I dropped my guard and told him that I found working in a cubicle distracting and the systems part of my job difficult to master. Oh... and in all my uncharacteristic vulnerability with my "mentor," I mentioned I'd like to get back out in the field to sell again.

My wife always told me it wouldn't kill me to be more open. I guess she was wrong.

What flashed through my mind next were the promises and financial commitments I had made. How I'd generously told my parents I'd pay their way to fly out and see us for the holidays -- and agreed to chip in with my two brothers to send them on a cruise for their 50th anniversary. Then there was the deposit I had just put down for my son's combo gymnastics/rock climbing birthday party for 20 of his closest friends. Had the invitations gone out yet?

When you suffer a loss, psychologists say you go through five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I'm with them on the anger thing, but rather than denial for me it was more a sense of clarity.

Everything began to fit now. I know why my boss was avoiding me, why I was invited to fewer meetings, why I couldn't get access to the 2005 budget and why no one was terribly interested in my 2005 revenue plan.

I returned to my cube. I didn't call my wife... I didn't call anyone. I packed up my things, threw them in my gym bag and tossed it over my shoulder like some low-rent Santa Claus.

As I made my way through the maze of tinsel-covered cubicles all I could think to say to my wide-eyed colleagues was: "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

I felt a strange sense of peace as I walked past the rows of empty parking spaces reserved for executives in the heated garage into the cold, clear air.

More to come...