TIDAL WAVE OF ODD JOBS LANDS ME ON LAW & ORDER.

Ed. note: Welcome to the latest installment of “Janet Raiffa’s Recessionals,” a column by a laid-off recruiting manager in New York. Prior columns are collected [here]. You can reach Janet Raiffa via LinkedIn, leaving a comment here, or emailing 405club@gmail.com.

It was bound to happen. After months of cultivating odd jobs, letting everyone with internet access know that I am willing to do almost any job that isn’t illegal on a one-off or part-time basis, and trying to outperform even in gigs that are best suited for college students, I may now have taken on more odd jobs than I can juggle. Although I’m not making a living approaching my old one nor filling 40 hours a week by any stretch, I must admit that when I can procure a steady stream of assignments there is something exciting about taking on a different job almost every day.  This week I also managed - after months of trying - to secure a day of extra work on Law and Order.  I was not cast in my old dream role of “dead body,” but now that I have made a successful debut I am sure I can work my way up to being a featured cadaver.

My odd job week began with a final “streetwalking” performance for the campaign for Manhattan District Attorney.  Over the summer I took on several four hour shifts petitioning for Leslie Crocker Snyder, a process wherein I canvassed neighborhoods known for political activism soliciting signatures, and asking again and again, “Are you a registered Democrat?” Having the majority of people you greet walk right by you without acknowledging that they have been spoken to, or putting up a hand to stop you before you even start speaking is humbling, at best, but I soon distinguished myself as one of the better petitioners of my cohort.  This was easy enough to do because many of my college age partners could not make it through a four shift without giving up in despair; being a laid off mid-career executive with a recruiting focus during a recession and a single woman of a certain age in New York has given me a tolerance for rejection so high that very few 20-somethings are able to compete. When I was called for one last tour of duty to advocate before the election began I couldn’t turn down the chance to both wrap up the campaign process and earn $70 for early morning and late afternoon/evening shift that would leave most of my day free for other activities.  I also felt much better about the job since The New York Times published an article about the laid off lawyers and bankers joining campaigns as volunteers or low paid workers.  One of the featured campaigners was a former Goldman Sachs analyst, someone I could have easily hired a few years ago at the firm, who described bumping into still employed old banking colleagues while passing out flyers on the street.

The campaign assignment began at 6:30am with a line-up outside of a makeshift office in the garment district.  A long queue of people was already assembled when I arrived, all eagerly filling out a one page sheet with a heading indicating that it was for “Paid Body” information. Maybe I had succeeded in being cast as a body after all. After a brief information session – three minutes on the street where individual groups of five heard a message about smiling, pushing flyers, and repeating the candidate’s name – I was deployed to the Upper East Side.  I was pleased about this neighborhood assignment.  While the Upper West Side was prized during the petitioning period as the richest source of active Democratic voters, I knew that Upper East Siders would likely be more polite while brushing me off.   When I arrived I was also heartened to see that Leslie Crocker Snyder herself and some of her staff were stationed across the street from me.  As she greeted potential voters on the way to the polling place at East 82^nd Street, and shook hands with private school students and parents on the way to school, I would have a chance to show my enthusiastic advocacy with a receptive and important audience.

While much of my early morning tenure was distinguished by picking up an easel with Bill de Blasio posters that kept falling down, I was able to direct a number of passerby to the candidate, and assist the school crossing guard as she endeavored to maintain the barricades on the street where we were positioned.   When the guard asked me to take down the posters affixed to the barricades, I took the Crocker Snyder poster and held it underneath my armpits as a makeshift sandwich board.  Sometime later the candidate rushed across the street to talk to me, and I momentarily panicked thinking that I was in trouble and remembering that she had a reputation as a “hanging judge.” She very sweetly told me that I was doing a good job and said that she liked my novel poster display technique.  When I went home between shifts I searched for some string to make a more manageable outfit of it, but ended up piercing the poster and inserting a long pearl necklace through it.  The pearls proved an ideal accessory for the posh East Side audience, and throughout my later shift I was able to amuse passerby and prove that even if I was a bit down on my luck professionally, I was at least still stylish.

The split shift of the campaign assignment allowed me to head home for a 1:00pm phone interview.  Is it just me, or are phone interviews becoming more popular even for conversations where the candidate and interviewer are within a few miles of each other?  Are employers so deluged by resumes now that they don’t have the time to meet with people in person to at least see if they have two heads or if they can turn up in a decent suit? I don’t particularly like phone interviews, and feel like I tend to talk too much because I cannot read the interviewer’s expression, but these days interviews are so hard to procure that I’d be excited about one that was conducted entirely in Morse code or via smoke signals.  I’ve been applying for administrative positions at a wide range of universities for several months, and other than two short phone calls with someone in New Haven followed by a proposed on campus visit that never came, had no luck in procuring interviews.  Given the fact that my resume is full of successful interaction with leading undergraduate, law and business schools, I’ve begun to think that both my former titles and the salary history I’d provided in many of the online applications are overly daunting for reviewers.

This interview was a preliminary screen by the Head of Human Resources for two of the four roles I’d applied to, the others having been listed as filled in the online application system.  I expected an academic interview to be a bit more warm and friendly than the ones I’d been through for jobs in consulting, banking, and law, but was surprised to find that it was definitely not.  Beyond the standard but always troubling question regarding strengths and weaknesses and the walk-me-through- how- you- overcame- a-challenge query, my interviewer wanted to know why I’d left every job I’d ever had and how all my previous bosses would appraise me in multiple categories versus how I would appraise myself. She asked me to counsel a theoretical student, and wanted to know how I’d feel about accepting a salary that was roughly one-fourth of what I’d earned at my prior two jobs.  By the end of the interview I felt like I sounded like a money grubbing yuppie who talks too much and has difficulty getting along with others, and realized that even if I got a second interview the highest salary I could earn there would not cover my monthly mortgage and maintenance.

That night I could hardly sleep because I was so excited about my Law and Order debut the next morning. After registering with Central Casting in June, I’d been submitting for multiple listings weekly, but never heard anything even when the need seemed to be frantic and openings were broadcast several times in a day. I  couldn’t stretch myself into many of the “breakdowns” I received each day via email, like the postings that called for “Asian gangster types,” “real nurses” “fashion model types“ and “men with NYPD uniforms,” but there were always generic roles for background actors of “all ethnicities” from “18-101” and professional categories that I could reasonably fit into. Most of the listings came with instructions not to call, but when a Law and Order posting appeared with directions to phone the hotline I dialed immediately.  It took me six times to get through, and then I was placed on hold so long that it was almost like trying to reach Time Warner regarding cable service, but I finally got an actual human who looked up my hideous picture and told me that I was confirmed as an “angry computer nerd” with several costume changes.  I was instructed to bring two business suits in muted colors and a more casual look, assigned the number 33, and told to call a hotline that night to confirm my call time for the Chelsea Piers shoot.  I felt a tremendous nostalgia for my old world of business trips as I packed my travel bag that night, and as I rifled through my fall suits I imagined that t my old cotton friends from Ann Taylor were elated about being dusted off and pressed after months of inactivity.

Having progressed professionally from being a “paid body” to being known as “33,” I showed up at “holding” significantly before my call time.  It had been many weeks since I’d navigated a rush hour subway trip, but it felt great to be heading off for a full day of work wearing a suit and carrying a bag that made it look like I was on my way to a campus recruiting trip again.  When I arrived in holding, a cavernous warehouse-like area with folding chairs and a couple of tables, there were assorted garment bags strewn about but no sign of my future colleagues.  After a few minutes exploring an adjacent room with rows of costumes and mirrors, I discovered that the more seasoned veterans had walked up several flights to procure breakfast from craft services.  By 8:30am everyone was assembled, and our supervisor for the day began taking attendance, and handing out the forms we’d need to submit for payment.  Extra work doesn’t pay much if you’re not in a union like SAG or AFTRA – the standard rate is $85 for 10 hours or the same day rate as unemployment in New York – but union members earn above $100 for the equivalent work as well as extra pay for working in conditions involving water or smoke or making costume changes. Union membership does, however, involve paying up to several thousand in dues each year depending on earnings, and from conversations that day I learned that many actors struggle to pay these dues, and often have several work paychecks given over to them.  After everyone was accounted for, our clothing was checked by wardrobe supervisors, and we were told what our looks would be for the three separate scenes we’d be shooting.

The episode was called “Human Flesh,”  and the story involved the murder of a man whose poor driving skills were exposed on a blog depicting bad behavior by ordinary citizens and inviting readers to  chastise them publically.  In the first scene I was a defendant, one of a huge number of people who’d posted an angry comment on the blog and been dragged in by the Assistant District Attorney, and in the next two scenes I’d be seated in the gallery watching the trial of the blog’s editor.  I’d submitted to be a lawyer in the first scene, and had described my years as a paralegal and legal recruiter in the comment section of my profile, but apparently I looked more like a defendant to the casting associate.  The scene involved a large group of lawyers and defendants huddled together to make the point that a ridiculous number of people had been dragged in to face charges, and for take after take we were required to stand perfectly still shoulder-to-shoulder.  I’d always believed that scenes were reshot only to improve the performance or if mistakes had been made, but soon learned that each scene was routinely redone to capture all angles and points of view.  This scene proved the most difficult to shoot because of the awkward positioning, but after being rearranged several times, photographed and recorded by number to maintain our correct positions, and filmed, we were finally released.

My next two scenes required multiple wardrobe changes, but proved easier because the background team was only required to sit in the gallery and look at the lawyers and defendant intently.  The action was interesting during the first ten takes or so, but upon more repetition one of the numerous production people was forced to descend upon us and caution certain extras about checking blackberries and looking like they were dozing off.  I was luckily placed in the first row of the gallery during both scenes, directly behind Linus Roache, the compact and fine-boned British actor who plays Assistant District Attorney Michael Cutter.  After quickly gaining an understanding of the magic behind television production, I became more interested in how much a television set actually resembles a normal workplace.  In between takes, Jeremy Sisto, the memorably psychotic brother from Six Feet Under, who now plays Detective Cyrus Lupo, brought in his baby girl to display proudly to his colleagues, and Linus Roache and the defense attorney, actor Ben Shenkman, engaged in some ordinary water cooler conversation about the merits of Mad Men.  Of course, in a normal workplace one’s colleagues don’t continually fix their hair and powder their noses, and sitting behind Roache I couldn’t help but be drawn into the grooming process and the attention being given to his appearance.  As he finished each take using a bland generic American accent, his natural charming British accent reappeared, increasing his attractiveness exponentially to my Anglophile ears.  I soon wondered whether it would be appropriate in the scene if a member of the gallery were to lovingly pat down the hair of the ADA, or whether a mistrial would be declared.

I was also curious about the backgrounds of my fellow extras, and in the time between scenes I bonded with several of them.  Who were these people who most likely fought each day to land gigs for $85 or not much more? Half of them seemed to be professional actors filling the time as they competed for featured roles and commercials, and many boasted to me privately of making huge amounts of money on residuals from other appearances.  There were also many laid off people, with personal stories ranging from exhilarating to much more depressing than my own.  I was immediately drawn to Adrienne, a pretty and petite woman in her 20s, who seemed like someone I would have recruited in my old life.  She turned out to be a former JP Morgan analyst in Private Wealth Management who was recruited straight out of Clark Atlanta University, and laid off two years later in September of 2008.  After the layoff she’d studied for and taken the GMATs, but quickly decided to pursue a career in the arts and entertainment instead.  In one year she’d won “Miss Black New York” and came in sixth in “Miss Black America,” done two television pilots, a play, a commercial, an independent film, and a documentary on up-and-coming black actors.  “Were you a drama major undergraduate?” I asked, thinking that she’d been forced into a more traditional path by worried parents or fear of not being able to make it as an actress.  “Oh no, “she responded. “I was a finance major.” Adrienne was clearly happy with her forced career transition and said she didn’t want to go back, but admitted that she would have never made the move voluntarily.  “I was getting used to the lifestyle of being single and having a high powered career in New York.  I was looking forward to making six figures at 26.”

Ed’s story was less uplifting.  A burly man who looked to be in his late 30s, he’d been laid off from a position teaching 7^th graders in New Jersey.  “What did you teach?” I asked, thinking that it had to be something like music, art, or gym.  “I was a math teacher,” he responded, shattering my notions of what subjects could possibly be considered expendable.  Since his layoff he’d been taking on substitute teaching placements and background actor work, but was finding the full-time search particularly difficult since older teachers weren’t retiring at the rate they had in the past.  He was grateful, he said, that his wife’s job at Johnson & Johnson was secure, but it kept him from looking for teaching positions in other cities.

Shaunna’s story was worse.  She’d been laid off by Deloitte after four years in Marketing in March of 2009, but luckily landed a temp-to-perm role at a much higher salary at Bank of America by June. She’d been overjoyed by the short job search.  Only three weeks later a new hire for another role was given her job, and she was informed that she was being let go on her birthday with a cake she’d brought in for her new colleagues still in the office refrigerator.  Perhaps it’s best that I’ve never heard back from Bank of America after my first interview and being told several weeks later, several months ago, that I’m still under consideration.

My day wrapped up at 6:00pm, a short stint by extra standards, and I reveled in the old but suddenly novel feeling of being weary after a full day of work.  I had two odd jobs the next day and a meeting in between about taking on a third.  On Friday mornings I’ve been regularly landing trailer checking assignments, a truly odd job wherein movie studios pay a marketing intelligence company to capture the trailers being shown before targeted films and assess audience reaction.  When I first discovered that this type of paid assignment even existed I applied for at least five theaters to land a visit to at least one, but now that I’ve taken on over 50 projects I’ve moved up the food chain and secured a couple of locations where I’m a preferred checker.  Trailer checking pays about $12.50 for an assignment that takes about 20 minutes, but when multiple movies open up at a theater on the same day it can become similar in hourly wages to many professional salaries.  On this Friday four movies were opening up at the Battery Park cinema and I’d be required to hop between screenings at 11:30, 11:50, 12:00, and 12:30, and do a check of posters and banners in the lobby (including one of George Clooney that I’d helped hoist myself only a few weeks before).  I knew in advance that it would be impossible to do both the 11:50 and 12:00 so I’d lined up a friend who lived nearby to assist me, subcontracting one hour of work in exchange for the support I’d been providing to her helping to write job descriptions and launching her start-up lifestyle management company.  Unfortunately she pulled out that morning, leaving me in the difficult position of having to find a person who wasn’t working and would be willing to go to the movies with me for approximately 20 minutes.  After running out of options and deciding not to try to pay one of the concession stand workers to help me, I entreated the helpful ticket taker to ask the projectionist for the names of the trailers I could not view myself.  I felt guilty, but earned an impressive $55 for one hour of work, and will find a way to repay him for the assistance.

From the theater I headed to an informal lunch interview with a former colleague on the academic side from my years recruiting MBAs.  Having now worked with two other leading business schools advising second year students on their resumes, I’ve developed a certain level of confidence about my abilities, and have begun reaching out to other institutions to see if my assistance would be desirable. This conversation went much better than my earlier phone interview, and with any luck I’ll be able to start working with two schools simultaneously on a part-time basis next month.   That evening I had my final odd job of the week, a referral from a fellow 405er to assist her temple with running Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services.  I was put in charge of taking cash and checks for the evening service, and was required to work for little more than two hours.  This job quickly ascended to the top of my long list of desirable odd jobs.  I was seated throughout,  was not required to switch outfits three times, the change was simple to make and I was not required to walk around flashing a wad of it as I had during my carnival worker stint and the guests were uniformly polite.  Many of them even greeted me with a hearty “Happy New Year!” Several weeks ago I’d titled a post “Are You There God, It’s Me Jobless,” and it seemed that God had been websurfing and had answered my prayers.  At the end of the evening I was given $75 in cash, nearly as much as I’d earned the day before for over 8 hours of extra work, and thanked sincerely for my assistance.  I would return the next day for a morning service stint, and have one more day to work at Yom Kippur.  Now all I have to do is return the message about working for David Yassky’s campaign that I received after being referred by the Crocker Snyder campaign, finish all the work my friend has been sending me for her new start-up business, wait to hear about my third resume reviewing gig, prepare for the second day of Law and Order work I’ve been told to expect, and pick out a more somber outfit to wear to work on Yom Kippur.  I feel like I’ve been hit by a tidal wave of odd jobs, and I LIKE IT!