February 3, 2009...9:38 am

Come on over, I’m in cardboard box #32256.

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A month before I moved across the country, my loving grandfather penned me the following email:

Hi Tootsie:
Welcome home. I hope you had a pleasant and fruitful trip to California. The job market is not as expansive as it was six months ago. I hope you have some good leads in California before you decide to go west.

You know that Horace Greeley said”Go west young man”, he did not mention women.

Love,Papa

I can’t say I wasn’t warned. In his sexist way, Papa was telling it like it is. The economy is in shambles, getting worse, nearing irreparable, or “dat pitz,” as my little sister might put it. From minimum wage workers to 6-figure earners, people are in trouble.  

Still, I was naive enough to think I could just waltz my small self over to this coast, work hard at networking and sailing resumes from office to office and miraculously a job would materialize and life would be good. Now I’ve been here almost a month and after much networking, resume sailing and online searching I don’t currently even have a real lead.

I got a voicemail from a recruiter and subsequently made the mistake of considering this a promising phone call. When I called him back he let me know the company has issued a hiring freeze and he could meet with me if I really really wanted to, but it would be “weeks and weeks and weeks” before any job opened up. 

It looks like I’ve signed up for a few months of ramen noodles, gym obsession, daytime television (Hello, soaps!) and morning margaritas. 

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