Calls

So the process has begun. I am currently in the uncomfortable stage of job search “networking” that involves calling random strangers, introducing myself, ratting out who told me to call them and then asking for a meeting over coffee, lunch, etc. For the most part, the people I have spoken with are extremely nice and very generous with their time, often more than willing to talk to a random stranger. However, one common trait amongst these individuals is that they are typically older than 45. From what I can tell, 45 seems to be the relative cut-off between new age and old school mentality. Forty-five and up is just old enough to be lumped in with my parent’s generation; the generation that doesn’t check their email each day or know how to change the ringer on their cell phone. These guys still appreciate a young strapper picking up the ‘ol horn and giving them a call. These guys are more than happy to shoot the shit with someone about how they got to where they are. A lot of these guys are rich and have been rich for some time. They say things like, “I remember when my son was going through the same thing that you are going through”. Also, more times than not, they will fork over a handful of other geezers who are just as willing to help out.

The funny thing I am running into throughout this process, however, is when a younger guy, usually between 35-45, gets thrown in the mix. These guys are still young by corporate standards, yet old enough to not have any sense of connection with the likes of me. The gap between 28 and single and 37 and married is miles wide. These guys do well, and by some measures are probably quite wealthy, but they are nowhere near where they would like to be. They have kids, young kids, and wives who are getting their first real taste of money. They have country club memberships and private school tuition on their mind. Even if they were once cool, they don’t get jokes about blacking out anymore because they can’t remember the last time they did. Their weekend schedule consists of soccer games starting at 9am Saturday morning and early dinners with the in-laws. Another thing about these guys is that they don’t give a rat shit about who I am or why I am bothering them. I half-laugh, half-cringe when I realize that one of these guys has picked up on the other end. The conversation goes like this:

Begin Call:

37-year-old: “This is Doug”

Me: “Doug, hey, my name is Nic Voto and I recently met with Bob Oldguy and he passed along your name to me. The reason I was meeting with Bob is that I just moved to town from Atlanta, where I was working in commercial RE. I am trying to talk to different people in the industry and Bob said you would be a great person to try to talk to.”

37-year-old: “Oh, Bob said that? Bob’s a good guy”.
37-year-old (internal dialogue): Bob’s a senile old kook.

Me: “I was hoping that we could maybe meet for coffee sometime over the next week or two, if you’re not too busy.”

37-year-old: “Uh, let…me…take a look…at my calendar. What did you say you were doing in Atlanta?”
37-year-old (internal dialogue): Oh Bob, you’re killing me. See kid, oddly enough, when I am “not too busy”, I like to do anything that doesn’t involve meeting random dudes for coffee. For fuck’s sake, at least grows some balls, cut the shit and tell me you are looking for a job. How do I blow off this asshole?

Me: “I was working in Tenant Rep at Tramm…” (abruptly cut-off).

37-year-old: “Hey, tell you what, the best thing to do is probably email me your resume and I will get back in touch with you when I know what next week looks like. The number that is showing up on caller ID, this 678 number, is that your cell?

Me: “Yes, I still have a GA cell number”

37-year-old: “Okay, then why don’t I give you a call in a day or two.”
37-year-old (internal dialogue): Thank God. You’re the only asshole I know with a 678 number.

Me: “Great. Sounds good”

37-year-old: “Alright, thanks Rick…”
37-year-old (internal dialogue): …for wasting my fucking time.

Me: “I look forward to meeting you”

37-year-old: “Take care”
37-year-old (internal dialogue): Eat a dick, Rick

End Call.