Watch and wait for you do not know the time or the place, and it will come when you least expect it.

What have we become, when an early morning trampling marks our progress as the compassionate, intelligent family of man? What are we thinking? The essential paradox is that we do not. We act, individually and as groups, with a herd mentality. Like cruel Jonas Chuzzlewit, we vicariously live by the Dickensian "...rule for bargains: Do other men, for they would do you. That's the true business precept." A murderous doctrine. Unconscionable.

This was the week of the headhunter. Not the turkey kind, though some 50 million birds were chopped, bled and plucked for November 27 alone, but the other kind that sets up shop to find you a new head after your own gets axed. Don't assume for one second that they are working for the job-hunter, as they are paid by the employer, but as long as you accept that, they provide another alternative for keeping your resume fresh and your interviewing skills honed.
They are in as dire a situation as the companies they represent. Dire straits indeed, as I contacted ten recruiters this week, and spoke with one of them...and felt their discomfort...

"May I speak with Mr. Ramar please? Yes, this is Willy-Willy following up on an email I sent him on Monday. Thanks, I'll wait."
"Hello, Mr. Ramar, yes, thanks for taking my call. I'm following--I'm sorry, you can't locate my email? Yes, Monday, I got your name from Lord Greystoke...that's right, you placed him on an escarpment in darkest--right, the fellow with the limited vocabulary but great leadership skills."
"That's right, Willy-Willy, I forwarded my resume and would like to know if I can clarify any information for you, and find out--no, I wasn't aware you only specialize in recruiting C-level swingers, that really doesn't fit my--sure, I'll hold..."
"Oh, you found it, great, can we review some of my qualifications--yes, I'll keep it to ninety seconds---'
"I started my career in the west basin of the---I'm sorry, I can't hear you, what is that annoying drumming sound that keeps getting louder and louder---? Yes, I can hear you much better now, as I was saying, I trained under Charlie and Zahir, and picked up numerous accolades for my--yes, Charlie with the parrot Walter--oh, you've heard of him, it's a small world---no, he had an unfortunate incident with a rope bridge...right, he was one of a kind."
"To continue, wait, can you hold a second Mr. Ramar, thanks..." Babette, Babette, come back to Willy-Willy, I make you nice banana soup..." sorry, had to put out a quick fire here...anyway, I hope you can run my qualifications through your database to see if there might be a---yes 'guide' would be a good description, I'm comfortable taking the lead and cutting through the--that drumming again, Mr. Ramar, I can't hear a word you--Mr. Ramar? Mr. Ramar! What the---yes, hello? Who am I speaking with...?"
"The White Goddess? Oh, you're an associate of Mr. Ramar---I see, you've moved into his camp---well, maybe you can help me..."

Timely recipe: stuff the bird. Take an unsliced loaf of white bread (not rye, wheat, or sourdough), cut off the crust, dice, and dry for a couple of days (or dry in a hot oven and let it cool). Chop celery and onions and saute in butter. If using fresh herbs, add chopped sage, thyme, and parsley (or whatever you like) to saute. Add saute to bread cubes in a large bowl. Add a raw egg. If using dried herbs add sage, thyme, parsley to bowl. Add chicken stock in small doses until bread is just moist. Mix thoroughly. Then have some fun. Add any/all of the following: chopped fresh oysters, ground cooked sausage, cornbread, walnuts, raisins, or anything else that the kids will eat. Stuff the bird or cook in a covered casserole for the last hour the bird is cooking.
Here is what is important. Don't oversoak the bread or you will end up with mush. Use whatever ingredients you like, but don't forget the sauteed celery and onions.

The market is housed in a 1912 building, a massive arched yellow-brick with an interior concourse, an unheated covered outdoor arcade, and a large clock tower. It is its own city across the river from the city, in the City of Ohio. First-time visitors mistake it for an old railroad station, but that is across Lorain in eighties modern. Large black back-braced letters atop the south wall W E S T S I D E M A R K E T reflect a different era and anchor the 25th Street storefronts which purvey complementary goods.
Yesterday the market teemed with buyers and sellers of roots, fruits, meats, milks, and breads. Cold rain and snow kept the hand-cart-pulling seniors at home, but left them with only one day left, Wednesday, to stock the pantry with holiday ingredients. Students home on holiday break continued traditional family excursions with their folks in tow, as excited as the 5th graders who gathered in the fish stall to start a scavenger hunt.
The hunters arrived in a small bus with parents and teachers, and quickly divided up into teams of three or four. Their goal is simple: the first team to complete the price blanks on their mimeographed sheet wins, the prize a piece of any creation from the bakery stall, all selections there delightfully decorated for the eye and decadent for the soul. Perfect.
Their list: one rutabaga, three roses, one bohemian rye bread, one blueberry pierogi, one serving of saffron pasta, ten sea scallops, two pints of fresh sour cream, six honeycrisp apples, four avocados, one bunch of rosemary, two soft pretzels, one bottle of sri-racha, one box decaffeinated tea, one 10 pound fresh turkey, one lamb tongue, fifteen large shrimp 1/2 pound chicken feet, one pint anchovy-stuffed olives. The teams scattered as their teacher gave the go. They had one hour.
One group stayed in the fish stall at the urging of a girl with black hair and a knit cap. "Wait, wait" she yelled as her comrades started after the other teams. "Wait, we can find some right here"...she had read the entire list and quickly organized the team into pairs. One hunted bread, two jumped into the arcade for vegetable, one searched dairy, and one meat and fish. The girl had them all plan to meet at the fish stall in a half hour, at which time any item unfound or incorrectly priced was easily chased down by the entire group, following the discovery of likely targets by the pairs and the lead of the black-haired girl. Winning hands-down, they enjoyed the slices of lemon pie, chocolate thunder cake, elairs, and caramel drizzle while the other teams, either scattered individually or wandering along as a group, leaderless, missed the confections.

Received an email today from a teacher in one of our local colleges. He got my name from an associate as someone with day-to-day sales and marketing experience who might be willing to share experiences with a larger audience. It looks like a chance to give back, so if we work out the arrangements, it will get me out of the hunt for a few hours and help me charge up a bit.
With the prospect of future interviews (you never know if/when you will get one) it's best to stay sharp with your material. That being said, we should be prepared to evolve our work to fit the situation, i.e., WYSIWYG the stuff to suit the viewer and the opportunity. Sounds pretty straightforward, but in my experience as a hiring manager you would be surprised how many inflexible applicants I have seen who have auditioned with their schtick between their legs. And those are the ones who got past the recruiters...
Glad for the chance to give back.

Today the travelogue rolls in a diesel Silverado, all the bells and whistles, the rain pounding the turnpike in fits and starts, as we embark on our annual pilgrimage to the national shrine of Our Lady. Bread and wine are stored in the hatch as we park and pick our way through multitudes of pilgrims with the same intentions. It's a three day break from the daily dose of corporate responsibility (at least for those of us who still work for the mayor), and we anticipate a fulfilling, vicarious enlightenment, perhaps a miracle of hope as the experience unfolds.
By halftime the rain is as relentless as my roommate's snoring, the Irish are dominating (the miracle fulfilled!), and we opt to dry and Mass at the hotel. Chinese completes the ongoing feast.
Breakfast finds doubled eggs and hash, 'cakes and 'toast, coffee to pee as we flee the land of goshen for home, hearth, and country. The wind whips the road, following and breaking trees and houses.
The front door again, and deep breath of thanks before plunging back into the mainstream.