Ed. note: Welcome to the latest installment of “Notes from the Breadline,” a column by a laid-off lawyer in New York. Prior columns are collected here. You can reach Roxana St. Thomas by email (at roxanastthomas@gmail.com), follow her on Twitter, or find her on Facebook.
On an unseasonably chilly autumn day, Lat and I are sitting in his office, commiserating about the cold. “I’m freezing,” I say, rubbing my hands over the steam rising from the coffee fountain. “Shouldn’t we be enjoying Native American summer right now?”
“Yeah,” Lat responds absently, his eyes fixed on the computer screen in front of him. I wait for a proper response, but he seems absorbed in the task before him. After a few minutes, I get up and stand behind him, peering nosily over his shoulder.
He is downloading a virtual fireplace to his desktop. After a few minutes of virtual tending, it begins to crackle gaily. “Ah,” he says, relaxing visibly. “There’s nothing like a nice fire on a cold fall day … and virtual fires are much eco-friendlier than their wood-burning facsimiles!” He leans back in his chair and arranges his feet on his desk. “Did I mention that I’m watching my carbon footprint?”
“I did notice that your carbon footprint was looking particularly svelte,” I tell him. I stare out at the window, where the trees are being battered by a cold wind. A wave of melancholy, sudden and bracing, washes over me. “The weather has gone as cold as the scent for job leads,” I say glumly.
Lat strokes his chin thoughtfully for a moment, and then begins to dig through a stack of papers on his desk. It teeters dangerously and then cascades onto the floor. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Paper avalanche.” After a moment, he extracts a creased copy of the New York Times, which he brandishes triumphantly.
“I was just reading about these job clubs, where people ‘meet to mingle, resumes in tow,’” he says. “And I was thinking: maybe you should try going to one. It could be an excellent networking opportunity!”
Another swell of melancholy builds, gathers into a frothy whitecap, and crashes around me. “That’s what you said about that speed-dating event we went to last year,” I say, trying not to sound peevish, “and that was a total waste of time, in six-minute increments. Besides, I just … I hate those things,” I tell him. “They feel so … forced.”
Lat responds with stony silence, then leans over and minimizes the fireplace. “Get going, sister,” he says sternly. “Find a networking event, and then you can come back and tell me all about it. Until then, no merrily crackling fire for you!”
I sulk for a few minutes, and then relent. In truth, my job search has stalled, and nothing I have done lately in an attempt to jump-start it seems to work. Why not? I figure, trying to muster optimism. At this point, I have nothing to lose.

Continue reading “Notes from the Breadline: Friends and Other Strangers
(Part I)”