Like countless others, I'd always fantasized that some day I would appear on the morning news shows, a modest blush bepainting my cheek, to plug my new bestselling, groundbreaking, instant classic of a novel. Little did I dream that my 15 minutes of fame would be on "Good Morning America" as one of the legions of the recently unemployed.
A few weeks ago, I attended an event called "Women for Hire" held at Manhattan Center. Loaded with freshly-minted copies of my resume, I joined the sea of unemployed women slowly making their way through the hall filled with booths of prospective employers. I dropped my resume at a few tables, picked handfuls of sweets from the candy bowls scattered around, made a couple of contacts that later resulted in interviews, and left. As the weeks went by I received occasional emails from the organizers of the event, which I read absentmindedly and discarded.
This past Monday I opened my inbox to find another message: "Are you currently unemployed in New York or New Jersey? For a national TV segment, we're looking to talk to out-of-work men and women about their job search. How long have you been unemployed? What was your most recent position and when did it end--and why? What are you doing to find a new job?"
Figuring it was a publicity project for Women for Hire, I replied with the details of my situation and hit Send. Within minutes I got a call from a sweet-sounding young man confirming my submission and asking me if I would be interested in joining a group interview. Mentally reviewing my extremely busy schedule of worrying about how I was going to remain in my house, continue sending my son to school, and stave off the Invasion of the Bill Collectors, I agreed. Then the sweet-sounding young man dropped the bomb. The interview would be conducted by Diane Sawyer. It would be taped the next day at a diner near Times Square and shown on Friday on Good Morning America.
I did some swift mental calculations. There were less than 24 hours to get a Botox shot, shed five pounds, find a fabulous outfit, henna my hair, and come up with some soundbite-worthy witticisims.
Then I stopped. Who was I kidding? I. Have. No. Job. I'm spiraling into an abyss the likes of which have not been seen in generations. Any preoccupation with appearance and materialism is irrelevant in today's world. I have a child and an ill mother, a mound of expenses, and no reliable means of support. If anyone is entitled to look careworn, it's me. At that moment, I made a momentous and frightening decision. I'll go on national television looking like, and being, myself. No book to tout, no accomplishments to be humbled to share with the world, no bon mots to toss out carelessly. Just me.
I didn't sleep all night.
The next morning I arrived at the diner to find lights and wires and cameras and technicians and harried producers all tumbling over each other around a table with a spread of muffins, coffee, and juice. The producers, two gorgeous young women, introduced themselves and arranged our group around the table. We were five jobless souls, each with different backgrounds, circumstances, and resources. As we were miked, the producers asked us questions similar to those Diane Sawyer would ask and encouraged us to interact with each other. Within a short time, we got past the initial jitters and were chatting comfortably.
Then Diane Sawyer entered, and she couldn't have been more beautiful, gracious, and kind. She skillfully drew great emotion and depth from all of us, and our conversation lasted nearly an hour. After the cameras stopped she hugged us warmly and allowed us to take all the pictures of her we wanted, and she was most patient while I babbled about how much I adore the work of her sainted husband.
As we left the diner, we gave our resumes to the gorgeous producers and gobbled up the muffins, which we had hesitated to do on camera for fear of getting a blueberry lodged in our teeth. We also exchanged contact information so we could keep in touch. What a nice group of people. What a wonderful experience.
What a sleepless night I'll have, again tonight, as I commend my soul to the mercy of the video editor. Wish me luck that this unexpected adventure will yield something more precious than an instant bestseller--a steady job.
UPDATE: Rec'd! Shucks, folks, I'm speechless.
UPDATE 2: The producer just called and said that the spot is supposed to air at 7:40 a.m. I'm the curly redhead. You guys rock, ROCK!
UPDATE 3: It's a wrap! Despite a technical glitch in which a commercial for "Milk" inexplicably appeared in the middle of the piece, it came across very much as it felt while we were taping. How can I ever thank everyone for your outpouring of support? I truly couldn't have maintained my sanity without you. {{{Kossacks}}} !
UPDATE 4: Here's a link to the segment on GMA's web site. There's a comments section and a bit about each of us. Everyone who has lost a job and/or is looking for a job should post here:
http://abcnews.go.com/...