On Monday, I had an appointment with another recruiter. M was a perky brunette who sported a perfect lavender manicure and bright white teeth. I looked at the job description we’d discussed on the telephone last week, we talked some more, and then she said she’d like to talk to her account manager about whether or not we’d go forward. At 10:30 in the morning, it felt like my work for the day was done — because being unemployed is a great deal of work, believe it or not — and I felt entitled to take the rest of the day off.
I picked a good day to do it. The sun was out, and I was on the corner of Halsted and Chicago, facing east. Though I was wearing my beloved Coach flats that have holes in the sole, I walked from that intersection, east to Michigan Avenue, then north towards Oak Street beach. I had stopped along the way at the Wow Bao in Water Tower Place for a snack, so I enjoyed a late morning snack of barbecue pork buns. Standing on the concrete bit of the lakefront, sand and water seeping into my shoes and making my tights all sludgy. I took off my coat and draped it over one of the orange ladders that descends into the lake.