Invite your unemployed friends over for a weekly coffee
The lady didn't understand. My boyfriend and I had mentioned we were both unemployed in a tough market, and it was difficult to figure out just what to do with our days. She nodded in agreement. "I had to lay someone off recently!" she told us. "And I called her and called her to ask her about something, and she didn't call me back all day! She was hiking!"
"Oooh, fabulous!" we said, and wondered where she hiked. But it turned out we didn't understand either. We were talking at cross-purposes.
She explained it for us: "She was hiking all day when she should have been looking for a job!"
I didn't yell at the lady or even deliver my usual sharp, stinging retort. She meant well, I'm sure, in her clueless and judgey and terrible way. But if you've just been laid off by someone who expects you to still be available to answer questions about how her business works, and who then is horrified to find you've taken a mental health day from your unemployment, who somehow thinks it's possible to spend eight hours a day job hunting, well, get yourself into the hills and enjoy them!
I've been unemployed a very long time in this economy; I've pared my expenses (beyond rent and Showtime, which I'll cancel again as soon as "Weeds" is done) down to next to nothing; and I've figured out a few ways to break up my days beyond Googling "words dogs know" and watching Tivoed "Law & Order" episodes.
Take a hike! Fire roads lead to the Griffith Park Observatory.
Go Hiking. If you live in Seattle or anywhere else in the beautiful Northwest, you probably hike every other day anyway, because of your depth and soulfulness and interesting facial hair. If you live in Los Angeles, your chances of being a regular hiker are inversely proportional to the size of your SUV. If you live in New York or Boston, your hikes are going to be limited to the pavement. (But what pavement it is!) Regardless, walk everywhere you can. When it's too hot for us in L.A. to climb the mountain to the Getty Museum or climb the mountain to the Griffith Observatory, there are entire days we build around walking to the post office. Mail something! Like your unemployment paperwork! Or a letter to the editor, on paper! Or a post card to your mama! She will love it, and will probably send you $5.
Talking 'Bout the Midnight Ridazz. You don't have to be a Spandex-wearing supercyclist to take a Midnight Ride; you can be sort of plump and wheezy and riding a Huffy. They love new members -- like a cult loves new members -- and will make you feel loved and at home. ("Chill pace/no rida left behind!") There are up to a dozen rides a day scheduled on their Web site, and it's spreading up the West Coast and all the way to New York City, with a chapter in a mythical place called "Marion, Indiana," in between.
