Did I Ever Tell You About When I Lived In A Crack House?

You've heard the expression... don't ever forget where you came from. Well, I'm from New Jersey and damn proud of it.  But my television career got started in Wilkes-Barre, PA.  It was market 51 when I was there.... for you non-TV people, that means 51st in size out of the 212 TV markets in the country. NYC is 1, LA is 2, Chicago 3 and so on. All things considered, Wilkes-Barre wasn't that awful a place to start my career, especially compared to some of the horror stories I've heard from friends.  I was less than two hours from home and I got to learn the ropes from some extraordinary people.

I made lots of sacrifices to get the ball rolling.  We all do, that's the way the real world goes... especially when you are young. Looking back it all makes for some pretty funny stories.  I had all sorts of odd jobs (which I've already told you about).  Then when I finally broke into TV, I made countless sacrifices.  I moved places where I knew no one.  I worked weekends. I worked overnights.  I worked weekend overnights. I did double shifts.  I made almost nothing doing it.  At one point I had two jobs simultaneously and no life.  I even lived out of my Jeep Wrangler while couch surfing with friends (Dave Weinberger if you read this, I still owe you money and I can't thank you enough).

But there is one sacrifice I made... that I will never ever ever forget.

Room 306... that was me.  Yup.  That's where I lived for about a month.  It was basically a crack house.  No, forget the basically.  It WAS a crack house.  I wish I was joking, but I'm not.  It was a one bedroom unit in an old building that was actually a looney bin before it was converted to apartments.  

I had a small room with a bed, a refrigerator, a chair, a shelf, a cracked mirror and a closet.  That was it.   The heat actually worked some of the time.  I had to share a bathroom with everyone else on the floor.  Nasty. 

I'm pretty sure I was the only one in the place that... 

A. Didn't have a substance abuse problem

B. Didn't have a criminal record

C. Had all my teeth

And this... was where I woke up... all alone... on Christmas morning in 1999. I'll never forget that feeling as long as I live.

I kind of forgot about this place, until I recently found these pictures. I'm kind of happy I don't have any pictures of my neighbors.

So why did I live here?  Simple.  I was making $8 an hour at my first job at WBRE and I couldn't find a place I could afford.  So I paid 50 bucks a week to live in conditions similar to where Akeem and Semi lived in Coming to America... complete with the shared bathroom.

I eventually found a place I could swing on my $8 an hour.  My rent was $300 a month, and that INCLUDED utilities.  It was the finished attic of a 2-family home. I remember feeling on top of the world because I finally had my own place.

That was 10 years ago.  It feels like 100.  

I guess my point is... don't forget where you came from... and I came from Wilkes-Barre.  I had to fight and scrape and claw my way out of this situation. It was the first hole I had to dig myself out from in the real world.  Not only did I make it out, but I think I was a stronger person for having survived that long, cold, dreadful month.

Now... I'm trying to dig my way out of the complete opposite situation.  I have a nice place to live... but no job.  Just like I did 10 years ago... I'll find a way to make it work.

My Adidas

When you are unemployed you have a lot of time to think.  Sometimes the simplest things can give you the deepest thoughts.  Today I re-learned a valuable life lesson while buying a pair of sneakers. Seriously.

I had a long list of things to get done today... very boring, mundane stuff.  Hair cut. Post Office.  Bank.  While I was at the bank, I deposited my first paycheck from the bar where I've been working (shameless plug- Whiskey Bar in Hoboken, come see me tonight and every Tuesday!)  It was a typical waiter/bartender check... which isn't much because the hourly rate is somewhere around minimum wage... of course you make your money on tips.

The next thing on my list was to get a new pair of sneakers to wear when I'm bartending and playing the guitar.  I have an old pair of Pumas I've been holding onto solely for those two purposes that I probably should have thrown out a year ago. They are in bad shape. Okay, that's putting it gently.  They are beat up and disgusting.  And they smell. But considering they get covered in beer every time I wear them, I didn't care.  I knew they were on their last legs, but it wasn't until a good friend got a whiff of them last week and almost died that I actually realized how bad they really do stink.

So I went to Foot Locker and I bought a pair of black Adidas... with red stripes. Obviously I couldn't just get plain black.  Anyone who has ever been out with me knows I love ridiculous sneakers... there's gotta be something to make them stand out.  I've had blue, red, green, even brown & yellow kicks... but I digress...

As I walked out of the store with my new Adidas... I realized...  the money I had just deposited in the bank 10 minutes ago went right to these new sneakers. The deposit and the charge to my credit card were practically the same amount.  The money went in and out of my hands that quickly.

I admit, it's been a long time since I really had to worry about sticking to a budget.  As a single guy with a great job, zero debt, no car and a roommate... well... I could spend like a rock star and still have money to put away at the end of the month. Now I have to keep track of every dollar.

A few months ago I probably would have bought those sneakers in three different colors and not thought twice about it.  And here I am today, getting all reflective and proud about the fact that I earned those shoes.

So the lesson I re-learned today...  I need to appreciate everything I have just a little bit more these days.  Even the simple things, like a new pair of sneakers. Because somehow, some way, things could always be worse.

My Adidas & my paycheck.

Dreaming About a New Job

What's your dream job?

Since I don't have a job right now, I get asked that question almost every single day.  As I sit in my apartment trying to figure out what else I can do with the rest of my life, some crazy thoughts run through my head.  I mean seriously... who only has ONE dream job?  I have multiple answers.  I'll share a few that won't make you think I'm completely off-the-reservation crazy.

My first answer is obvious... to play shortstop for the New York Yankees.  Sure, I've lost a step or three since I played in college, but my arm might actually be stronger now.  I can crush a softball.  How much harder can it be to hit a ball that's half that size coming at me three times as hard?  Plus, Derek Jeter is older than me and there's always a running conversation in the media and among scouts that the Yankees would be better off with him in the outfield.  There's always a chance they'll be looking for a new shortstop before I'm out of my prime.

The second answer is also obvious.  I'd be a rock star.  I mean, I shouldn't really have to explain this one.  Money... girls... screaming fans...  big houses... fancy cars... more money... and even more girls.  If I can pack Green Rock or The Town Tavern on a cold Wednesday night, filling up MSG or Giants Stadium can't be that much tougher.

Dream job #3?  POTUS... that's media-code for President of the United States.  Why does living at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue come in behind being a Yankee or a rock star?  Simple: stress.  For as much fun as the job could be... you see how much older these guys all look when they are done?  Clinton and W's faces aged three decades in eight years. President Obama looks older already and he hasn't even been in office for two months yet.  And if that's not enough of a deterrent, the salary isn't even close to what a Yankee or a rock star make.  But it would still a great gig.

After those three jobs... I'd be happy with almost anything that would pay me a lot of money and allow me to live at the beach.  The Jersey Shore would be my first choice, but I'd settle for somewhere in Florida or California... or I guess the Caribbean could also work.

Ok... back down to earth now.

I think I peaked as a baseball player when I was 12 and my team won our town's Little League championship.  The biggest place I've ever been paid to play the guitar is a bar in Pequannock, NJ.  And let's face it... my presidential aspirations would go up in smoke the second the screening committee looked at any of my Facebook pictures.  I'll never completely give up on any of these dream jobs, but I'm also realistic.

It's good to dream.  It's healthy to let your mind wander sometimes. And your answers to the "dream job" question say a lot about who you really are and what makes you happy.  In a weird and twisted way, daydreaming about my dream job is helping me figure out what I want to do with my life.  And more importantly, it's helping me figure out what I DON'T want to do with my life.

So what is your dream job?  I want to hear what you have to say.  I don't care how ridiculous you might think your answer is.

Oh... and one more thing.  If anyone has any connections with the Yankees, a rock band that sells out arenas around the world or anyone already recruiting presidential candidates for the 2012 election, let me know.  You know how to reach me.  I'll email you my resume right away.

Working Is Hard Work

I am out of shape.  Really out of shape.  I don't really mean physical shape... although I have slacked off when it comes to hitting the gym lately.  What I'm talking about is working shape.

Last week was tough.  I worked five days in a row, adding up to about 45 hours.  No, I wasn't working in TV again.  My office was a bar... three different bars to be exact.  I worked as a bartender on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday and I played the guitar on Wednesday and Friday.  Plus, I was still chasing down leads on jobs during the day.  I haven't worked that hard since I left NBC on December 5th.  Simply being on my feet for that many hours was enough to wipe me out.  I don't think I woke up before noon all week. 

You can make all the jokes you want about making drinks or singing songs by the Backstreet Boys for drunk girls until the wee small hours of the morning.  Yes, both jobs are a lot more fun than sitting at a desk. But at the same time, both jobs are much more physically demanding than sitting at a desk.  When I finally walked out of Whiskey Bar at 3:45 Sunday morning, the short five block stroll to my apartment felt like five miles. (Shameless plug alert: I'll be back behind the bar on Tuesday for Saint Patrick's Day... come in for $2 Coors Light drafts and $5 bombs... stop by for a drink or 6!).

By the time Sunday came around, I was dying for a day off.  It was the first time I felt that way in more than three months.  Kind of ironic... the unemployed guy desperately needed a day off.

I did nothing on Sunday.  I felt like I earned it.  Besides, my couch missed me.  As I sprawled out to watch Tropic Thunder again while overindulging in General Tso's Chicken and Shrimp Lo Mein, I started thinking... working for a living is hard work.  I admit, I kind of forgot that.  And I shouldn't have.

Last week kicked my ass.  When I do get a new full time job it's going to take weeks to get my body back on a regular routine.  That's not going to be fun.  Actually, it will probably feel miserable.  Bring it on.

On the job last Wednesday night.  Somewhere there's a joke to be made about the t-shirt I have on, but I'm not quite sure what it is.

As Clyde & Keith would say... RE-JECTED!

"Jason Hartelius,

Thank you for your interest in our company.  We are pleased that you considered us at this stage of your career planning.  However, we have selected another individual for the above-referenced position.

We appreciate your interest in this position and wish you success in achieving your career goals."

I love emails like this.

For the record... I am completely qualified for the job and I never got so much as a phone call or an email back from them until now.  This is probably some automated response and I'm willing to bet nobody actually looked at my resume.  If they would have looked, they probably would have called.

To be honest, I actually forgot I even applied for this job it was so long ago.  I think it was the first week of January.  So when I saw the email with the position and company in the subject line, I got excited for a second. I thought maybe they wanted to interview me. 

Oh well, their loss.  Life goes on.  It wasn't anything I had my heart set on... but it WAS a good job.

As always... I don't mean to simply bitch and moan to you about it. That's what Mom & Dad for. I'm actually laughing about this one.  I just thought it was a good addendum to my Overpaid & Overqualified post from the other day.  

It's rough out there... and getting rougher... as if you needed more evidence.

Why You Always Need A Backup Plan- VISUAL EVIDENCE!

This might seem like it's only for the TV people... but trust me... it's not.

I was going through my closet this morning looking for my certificate from my Emmy nomination for resume purposes.  In the same envelope... I found this picture.

This is a picture of the WNBC newsroom on 9/10/07.  We had just finished the very first broadcast of New York Nightly News with Chuck Scarborough.  I'm on the right, in a white shirt with my back to the camera.  I'm standing next to a very pleased then-GM Frank Comerford. Former News Director Dan Forman is standing across from me in a white shirt and tie, thanking the troops for their hard work.  Chuck also had some very nice things to say- you can see him leaning up against the assignment desk.  At the time, it seemed like a turning point for the station. 

Funny... because also this morning... I opened the Daily News to see this picture.

This is what WNBC now calls the "content center."  That's Meredith, Tom & Vickie... the 3 people in charge of the operation.  They are smiling because their long-awaited 24-7 channel launches on Monday.  You can see the news set off in the background.

What you can't see... these pictures were taken from the EXACT SAME SPOT IN THE ROOM. I kid you not.  Anyone who worked in both the "newsroom" and the "content center" can tell you that.  They knocked down the walls and rebuilt the place around us, as we worked.  It was not a fun experience.  The 3 people in the bottom picture-- now in charge of running the place-- were not even at the station when the top picture was taken.  And a good chunk of the people in the top picture were fired, laid off or took buyouts to escape the drastic changes.

It's really like a bizarre game of photo hunt and the bar is full of TV people.  The pictures are a year and a half apart, but the change actually happened in less than a year.  One more time for emphasis.

I wish Meredith, Tom, Vickie and everyone at WNBC the best of luck with their new venture.  I really mean that in the nicest way.  So why do I have to bring this all up and post photos that might be tough for some of you to look at?  And why did I tell you non-TV people to read?

I remember the first time I walked into the WNBC newsroom.  I thought... wow... the people who have worked here... the history.  It was the newsroom of all newsrooms.  And before it was WNBC's home, it was Johnny Carson's studio.  Hallowed ground in TV land.  I felt privileged to be a part of it... to have my desk right in the center of it all.

Look at it now.  It's nice and new.  But it's not the same.  And it never will be again.  It would take me pages... chapters... maybe books to describe the transformation that took place physically, philosophically and psychologically (and my severance deal says I can't do that anyway).  A good chunk of people who were around for picture 1 weren't around for picture 2, and vice versa.  100% of the management team is different.

So here's my point.  I know the TV business is crazy, but I never in my wildest dreams could have imagined what went down.  If this could happen to my former colleagues and me at what once was a stable place to work, it could happen to any of us.... whatever your profession.    The pictures tell the story.  So do yourself a favor and ALWAYS have a backup plan.  Something to get by just in case it all blows up.  It's tough a lesson I'm learning firsthand right now.

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Please be smart with any comments you might make.  No need for any personal attacks.

Overpaid & Overqualified

A few of you have inquired about my mental status since I started writing these blogs.  Aside from the fact I don't have a job, I am spectacular.  Trust me, I'm enjoying my time off. I really just started doing this to stay sharp, make myself more visible and to answer a few common questions about what it's like to be unemployed.  And that leads me to today's topic.

Everyone has had a job or three at some point in life that really makes them laugh when they look back now.  Usually it was because you were trying to earn extra cash in high school, pay the college bills or just trying to stay afloat until that first "real" job came along.

I've had some great ones.  I delivered pizzas.  I painted houses.  I delivered and installed pool tables, foosball tables and other games, usually at really big homes.  I was a landscaper.  I was a baseball coach.  All are perfectly legitimate, honorable and honest professions and I really enjoyed each job at the time.  But they weren't careers. They were paychecks.  Big difference.  I didn't pay an arm and a leg for a college education to be delivering pizzas full time.  I was trying to make money while trying to break into the TV biz.

Here I am.... more than a decade after I finally landed that first TV gig.  I have a resume lots of people in the biz would kill for.  I made a name for myself as a producer in NYC and DC- 5 good years in each town.  I worked at a few of the highest profile stations in the country. I worked with Chuck and Sue (which by the way, was my goal in college).  And it's getting me absolutely nowhere.

You see... when I was working as a pizza guy, a house painter, a pool table installer, a landscaper and a baseball coach... I was repeatedly told by potential employers that they couldn't hire me without any real experience.  10 years later... I'm now being told i have TOO MUCH EXPERIENCE.  Oh the irony.  

Yes... I am 31 years old... and overpaid and overqualified.

This is an actual line from an email I recently got back from a potential employer... slightly edited to hide where it's from:

"... your resume is fantastic. However we're not looking for any help... that level at this moment.  I wish I had a better answer for you."

Hey, I give the guy a ton of credit for being honest with me.  Most places just simply don't reply, as any of my unemployed friends will tell you.  But what this email really made me start thinking about... if I'm having this much trouble, I can only imagine what my friends with 10 or 20 years more experience than me must be going through.

Like I said before, this will eventually work itself out.  What goes down, must come back up... or something like that.  But until then, if anybody knows of a pizza place or pool table store looking for help, please let me know.  I think I have just the right amount of experience.

Snow Day

Thanks to Facebook, I now know what about 800 of my closest friends are doing at all times.  And today it seems they all have something to say about the snow.  Most are angry their commute sucked.  Others aren't happy they had to shovel before work.  The teachers all slept with their pajamas inside out, praying for the day off... and got up at 5am to find out the snow gods gave them their wish.  Lots of people are "working from home" today, which probably means hot chocolate, Facebook, movies and Guitar Hero.  And then there are my tv friends. 

For those of you not in the biz, there is nothing worse than having to work in tv on a snow day. You usually have to be at work at least one hour earlier, and when your in time is 3am... well... that means you are on the clock at 2am.  Reporters and photographers stand outside for hours, telling people not to leave the house.  Always seemed like a living, breathing, walking contradiction to me, but what do I know anyway?  The weather anchors will spend 5 minutes talking about what they really could tell me in 30 seconds or less: how much are we going to get and when will it end? (for the record, Dave Price would have taken 10 minutes).  And everyone in the newsroom and out in the elements will say they just can't wait for the day to be over.

Anyway... I have a message for everyone and anyone who has whined and complained about the snow today.  On behalf of all my unemployed friends...

SHUT UP.

You have a job.  I know that sounds bitter and angry, but it's really not.  It's a reminder.  I've heard so many people say they are "just thankful to have a job these days."  So a few flakes shouldn't change that.  I just wanted to remind you of the fact that there are millions of us who would trade places with you in a heartbeat.... even if it meant having to get up a little earlier to make it to work today.

Lower Manhattan is there... somewhere.