No Justice for us Good Tax-paying Folk

If you want to learn how to screw your landlord out of his or her money, read on for some tips. I've learned a lot over the past 18 months from my deadbeat ex-tenant, who continues to get away with not paying me a dime despite the court order that she do so.

Unfortunately, it doesn't matter if someone breaks a lease, takes money from you, never pays their taxes, repeatedly commits perjury, doesn't show for trial, lies to the court about her whereabouts that day, and files a fraudulent bankruptcy petition (also chock full of lies) to stop a wage garnishment—the justice system ultimately errs on the deadbeat loser's side.

It's been nine months since the Court awarded a judgment in my favor. I haven't seen one dime from my ex-tenant the loser.

Thanks to the loser defendant's repeated schemes designed to get out of paying me, I find myself spending more time and money on this case. And unfortunately, it ain't over yet.

For one thing, she lied under oath throughout our case, and got away with it. She lied about her employment status and provided a false residential address on her responses to interrogatories, which are in written form but are signed under oath and penalty of perjury. She didn't show up for trial, then had the gall to write a letter to the court three weeks later saying she'd been called out of town on a "family emergency" on the day of trial. Accompanied by that letter was her request for a new trial, a request that she'd missed the deadline for by 10 days.

The problem is that the judge that reviewed the letter and illegal motion for a new trial must've been sleeping, because he/she called for a hearing, in complete disregard for proper procedure (and law). Never mind that I'd won the judgment, and the judgment was absolutely final as of ten days post-trial. Because some judge or clerk wasn't paying attention, I had to go back to court during Christmas week, to appear for the defendant's motion.

Guess what? The defendant did not show to argue her own motion. The judge literally laughed at the absurdity of us being there at all. (Why couldn't this have been the judge who reviewed the ludicrous motion?) My attorney and I were walking down the aisle away from the bench, and the judge couldn't stop laughing. We never should have been there that day.

So you'd think that would be it, right?

Wrong. It's difficult to get an uncooperative defendant to confess assets. When mine didn't do that (as ordered by the court), my lawyer had to remind her. So, last November, a full 60 days after the deadline, she responded to interrogatories yet again. And she lied yet again—claiming all her bank accounts (3 separate checking accounts) had a zero balance, and that she owns virtually no furniture, no clothing, no car, has no retirement accounts, etc.

So then I had to file a motion to compel her to come to court, bring specific financial records, and orally confess her assets to me in front of a judge. This was scheduled to happen on April 20 of this year.

Meanwhile, I had been unable to garnish the defendant's wages because I had to get in line behind the Comptroller of Maryland. Seems my deadbeat ex-tenant had a bad habit of not paying taxes. When I checked the court record, I found five tax liens against her, dating back six years. She somehow evaded paying over $60,000 in taxes. Most of that was written off in a Chapter 7 bankruptcy that was discharged on behalf of the defendant just three years ago.

The defendant had an attorney buddy call my lawyer early on in our case. This two-bit lawyer never entered an appearance and therefore couldn't legally represent her. But that didn't stop him from calling my attorney and lying about the defendant's employment status. He told my attorney, "You'll never get a dime out of her. She's unemployed. And she'll just file bankruptcy again." My lawyer was worried when he heard that, and so was I.

But I'd done my own investigation and found out about the defendant's previous bankruptcy. She had to wait eight years to be eligible for bankruptcy again. Great! Maybe there was hope yet.

Then later on, again based on hours and hours of my own investigation over several days that included Labor Day weekend last year, I tracked down her employer and found out she'd lied under oath about being unemployed. (That was also when I found out that she'd lied about being out of town on the day of our trial.) The garnishment would start as soon as her tax levy was paid off. Unfortunately, I lost my job two weeks later.

I did the math and found out that my garnishment would start in mid-April of this year. I was looking forward to collecting 25% of her wages every month until she left that job, which was a contract due to expire on June 30 of this year. I was due to collect just a few thousand dollars this way—only a portion of the judgment—but it would be a start.

In March, I did a little more investigating and discovered that the defendant had purchased a $38,000 Lincoln at the Ford dealership and had upgraded from her $1,300/month apartment to a new 2,100-square foot $2,200/month luxury town house. Her income was still the same. She still was paying a dime on her mounting student loans. She still owed me over $25,000.

And yet she was living in the lap of luxury, conning more suckers into signing leases with her and loaning her money that they'll never see a dime of. (As of March her credit rating had sunk to 466. She used her mom to co-sign the car loan application with her.)

On April 20 I gave up a day's pay and $75 for a ZipCar rental to drive up to Maryland for our court date. It was a nightmare. I was on the docket for "orals," which were supposed to start at 1:15PM. When I walked in at 12:45, a long-winded case was dragging out. I could tell it wasn't about to come to a close.

Finally, at 1:15, the judge stood up, announced she had to go get something to eat, and would be back within a half hour. She said that since there was no food in the building, she had to go off site and might take longer. I was worried because I knew I had to be out of there by 3:30PM to make it to class that evening.

So I sat on the hard wooden pew as the clock ticked off an hour. I'd spoken to the clerk already to let him know my situation. But I worried the entire time. The defendant hadn't shown, but if I walked out, there was nothing I could do to discover her assets. So I stayed and waited.

Finally the judge came back. I thought she was going to go back to that lengthy case, but she did the right thing and took the quick cases first, followed by orals. I was out by 2:30, but it was all bad news. When my turn came and I stood in front of the judge, she pulled out a piece of paper stating that the defendant had filed for bankruptcy the day before. I know my jaw dropped open. I didn't say one word. I knew the defendant wasn't eligible for bankruptcy, but somehow she'd gotten away with filing a petition for Ch. 13.

My heart sank. It was already a rotten day. I'd missed a day's pay. The hour-long drive up had been in pouring, blinding rain. My hair was toast. Now I had to bttle traffic back to VA, and I was going back empty handed. All that for nothing. My ex-tenant had managed to screw me again.

Hence began my investigation into the defendant's bankruptcy, into bankruptcy code in general, and into the MD bankruptcy court system. These things take time. Plus the paperwork I had to fill out to file a claim. Seems the loser forgot to put me down as a creditor on her petition. She knows I'm the creditor but listed the court as the creditor of the judgment instead, probably on the advice of her sleazy lawyer who never should have filed the bankruptcy to begin with (which, by the way, costs $3,000 to do). Not surprising. Maybe she thought I wouldn't find out about it and would miss the creditor's meeting on May 29 (that'll be another holiday week ruined with yet another trip to court to continue to battle this loser—not to mention, another day's pay lost).

I went through her bankruptcy report, which is downloadable online (for a fee, of course), and found several inconsistencies (read: lies) about her assets monthly living expenses. ($285 for a phone bill??) She even lied about the amount of rent she's paying, putting down $2566 instead of $2200. She lied about the tax levy, which shouldn't have shown up on the report at all because it was paid off. In addition, she exagerrated the amount of the levy. She lied about her monthly wage amount on her 11/20/08 interrogatories, as I found out from the bankruptcy petition.

So I spent hours yesterday before going to my volunteer job, writing up all these (and more) 'inconsistencies' to send to the trustee, along with my claim form. According to a bankruptcy attorney I spoke with last week, this particular trustee in Baltimore is pretty smart and doesn't let anyone pull the wool over his eyes. I hope that's true.

Unfortunately, that doesn't help me now. I received a letter from the Court stating that she is ineligible for bankruptcy—but that doesn't stop the proceedings. Unbelievable. This is what I do not comprehend. A person can continue to file bankruptcies to stop paying their debts, whether they are eligible or not. I can't garnish wages because filing a bankruptcy petition (fraudulent or not) invokes an automatic stay for the debtor's creditors. No one can collect squat until the case is either discharged or dismissed, and that will take months. And by then she'll have a different job and I'll have to spend more hours tracking her down all over again. And by then there'll be a new tax lien against her . . . well, you get the picture.

You can't get blood from this turnip. If my defendant continues to pursue this Ch. 13, she might be facing jail time and a $500,000 fine. Not because she's ineligible—because she lied under oath on her bankruptcy petition.

This isn't a fair world at all. Oh, and God I miss New York. Just had to throw that in . . . .

One Semester Down, Six to Go!

Wow, I can't believe that my first semester at GW is over. Those three and a half months went by fast. I had one final exam on Monday, which consisted of four essay questions, for my Criminal Investigations class. My other final exam, for Criminal Law, was 100 multiple choice questions plus extra credit for writing out the Fourth Amendment.

I have never enjoyed school more than I did this semester. In fact, I recall being so sick of school in my Junior year at Virginia Tech in 1984 that I dropped out . . . to work in pizza, no less! My, how things change in a quarter of a century. I only wish I'd chased this dream of mine years ago.

Well, I have 2.5 weeks off from school. Summer school starts May 18 and only lasts 10 weeks, so it's pretty intense. I'm taking Risk Analysis & Loss Prevention and Ethics & Leadership. Classes are three hours long, which will put me home around 9:30PM on school nights. Those are going to be some long days, leaving for work at 7:30AM and getting home 14 hours later. Poor Baby. She doesn't like to be alone that long. She really needs a playmate!

Off to bed. It'll be intersting trying to work tomorrow with a fried brain.

Baby Antics

What is it with cats and water? Several weeks ago, Baby stopped drinking from her fancy bubble fountain bowl. Since then, she only drinks from my water cups or licks up remnant water drops from the bathroom sink.

I keep a little acrylic water cup on the bathroom counter top. Every time I turn on the water in the bathroom sink, Baby comes running and jumps up onto the lavatory. She plops herself down on the counter and waits patiently for me to fill the cup for her, then she starts lapping away. Never mind that she has a full bowl of fresh bubbly water in the room where I feed her.

Almost always, I have a big glass of ice water next to me, either on my desk or on the table next to my TV chair. Baby doesn't hesitate to help herself. I know that cats like their water fresh, hence the bubble fountain which keeps the water circulating. I give the bowl a thorough cleaning every weekend and refill it with cold water from the Brita pitcher. What more could a cat ask for?

I recall Martin liked his water cold. So, with Baby, I've tried adding ice cubes to her bowl. Still no go. She liked her old fountain, which was on its last legs and finally had to be thrown away during the last move. She used the new bubble fountain for several months; suddenly, it just isn't cutting it for this spoiled little girl.

This is cat behavior that I just don't understand. True, they say that cats like their water really fresh. The bubble fountain should provide that. Several explanations are offered on this web page. The only one I haven't tried is separating her food and water dishes. I'll do that next and see what happens.

Surveillance: Not for the Weary

March 9th was surveillance night for my Criminal Investigations class. I had been looking forward to this night as much as our earlier crime scene night. The teacher warned us that our measely 1.5 hours of surveillance would wear us out.

She was right.

My team of four was tasked with tailing a young woman who had suffered a fall at her job at Staples. Doctor's orders mandated strict bed rest for this employee, who was receiving workman's compensation for her injury. She was supposed to be at home, healing.

The subject left by car, and we had two cars following her. I was a passenger in the second car. Naturally, we were parked on the opposite side of the road when our subject took off past us in the opposite direction. The lead car was able to stay behind her. (Thank goodness we opted to use two cars.) I had suggested GPS units, and my driver had one - but it was in his glove box, not mounted on the dash board ready to go. There wasn't enough time after we got going to set that up. (A huge chunk of surveillance is planning.)

Meanwhile, my partner circled around the block and managed to get on the wrong road. Using my cell phone, I remained in communication with the passenger of the lead car. He kept telling us "turn right on Fillmore," but we weren't even close to Fillmore. We were off in a completely wrong direction. I had brought a map and was juggling getting the GPS unit up while also looking at the map and talking to the other agent on the phone and trying to listen to my partner barking questions at me while I was on the phone listening to the other agent.

Finally, we were headed in the right direction. We turned on Fillmore, and found no Crate & Barrel, so we knew it was the wrong street. Our teammate couldn't remember the street name, so we went up another street and finally found the shopping center where the subject had pulled in and parked. We lucked out and got a parking space out front, like the subject, but on the other side of the median from her car. Perfect. Not only that, but the woman in the car parked in front of us came up to our window and told us to use her spot because there were still 30 minutes left on the meter. Such luck! We pulled up and parked.

Meanwhile, the other two agents had parked in the garage and alternately followed the subject into Barnes & Noble and Ann Taylor Loft. Fortunately, one of those agents got some fantastic photos of the subject bending and reaching for books in B&N. Unfortunately, he hadn't set his camera to date- and time-stamp the photos, like we'd all agreed ahead of time. He had the date stamp enabled, though, which is better than nothing—especially since his partner failed to enable the time/date stamp at all on her camera.

Communicating via Bluetooth, I got out and sat on a bench that faced the rear of the subject's Toyota hatchback. I was wearing a lavender cap and black pullover. It was windy that day—and COLD. I about froze my butt off sitting there while she shopped for what seemed like forever. I realized I needed a prop, so I called another agent on my cell and had her bring a notebook over for me to casually flip through as I waited.

The subject shopped in just about every store at this outdoor mall in Arlington. We watched her go to William-Sonoma, Pottery Barn, Crate & Barrel and more. But surveillance was tough without having 4-way communication available to us. I had a Bluetooth headset and kept my phone in my pocket. I was pretty much on the phone with one of my teammates for the entire exercise, until near the end.

It was clear that our subject was feeling no back pain. She was out out trouncing around in her high heels, shopping, bending over and reaching up for books at B&N, and looking completely healthy. She even picked up a huge 15-lb. vase in C&B and set it back down.

As I sat on the bench, trying not to shiver or look obvious, I came up with a plan to get the subject to bend over. All I needed was for one of my fellow agents to photograph the encounter. I was on the phone with another agent when I asked him to call my partner and tell him to get his camera ready and be in position when the subject returned to her car and I accosted her.

I continued lying in wait while the other agents moved about.

Suddenly, my partner took off in his car. Another agent called me wondering where in the heck he was going? Our subject was on foot and we had a perfectly good parking space, yet this agent left the scene—and without communicating with any of us. It made no sense. I asked my fellow agents to be ready with their cameras.

When the subject returned to her car, I photographed her from about 20 feet away, right behind her, as she bent over and looked in the hatch. I was still snapping photos as I walked right up to her and called out, "Is this your car?" Hiding the camera when she turned to face me, I told her, "That guy in front of you hit your car when he was parking," pointing at the blue SUV parked in front of her. Sure enough, the ruse worked. We went over together to look at her front bumper. She easily squatted down to get a closer look. I'm praying that someone on my team is shooting the scene.

Nope. No such luck. My partner had returned and was looking for a parking space, of which there were none available. I parted ways with the subject, crossed the median, and signaled my partner to pick me up. In the car, I removed my hat, let my hair down, and put on a beige winter coat—all part of the plan we each had to change our appearance.

I went inside Crate & Barrel where there was a perfect window view to her car. I spoke to my partner on the cell phone, and we agreed he'd call me when the subject left Baja Fresh and headed back to her car. I was going to photograph her getting into her car and driving off. Meanwhile, I kept an eye out as best as I could from inside the store, hoping the store clerks wouldn't think I was a shoplifter. I made a small purchase and hung out, awaiting my partner's call and periodically passing by that window.

Finally I saw the car leaving. I was too late! My partner hadn't called as planned. He later claimed he texted me instead, but I never got a message from him. It wouldn't have mattered; my phone was in my pocket and I never would have heard the text alert.

Despite all of our little blunders, my team managed to get some great photos of the subject bending over, carrying shopping bags, squatting, reaching, walking in high heels, etc. We pulled the info together into a report with a timeline of our subject's activities and will present it on Monday.

It was fun! I must say, though, riding home on the subway that night, I suddenly found myself exhausted. I can't imagine how tired I'd be had I participated in a surveillance that lasted 12-18 hours, as can be the case in real life.

You gotta love this stuff! I've never enjoyed school this much in my life. Guess I finally picked the right field to study. And I'm 45 years old today, so it's about time!

Letter to the Editor

Dear Editor:

I recently moved to Alexandria from New York City. I didn't own a car in NYC, and I don't own one here (despite it being a lot harder and more time-consuming to commute without a car here). I use the Metro to get around.

Each morning I must cross Eisenhower Avenue to get on the train. There is no crosswalk for pedestrians there. To cross at a crosswalk, apartment dwellers must either backtrack to the light or walk past the Metro and cross at the next light. Both of these lights are three long minutes when red. Long story short: everyone walks across the middle of the road to get to the train station. I see it every day. I assumed that this is how it's done here. In fact, in all my years in NYC there was no such thing as NYPD ticketing people for crossing the street. NYC is a pedestrian-friendly city (and New York's finest have better things to do than ticket jaywalkers).

Yesterday morning around 8:00 I was headed to the Metro. When the road cleared, I stepped one single foot into the gutter of the road. All of a sudden, I heard this booming voice screaming, "No, no, NO, NO, NO!!!" I looked up and saw a burly motorcycle policeman across the street, pointing angrily at me and screaming at the top of his lungs. The look on his face couldn't have been uglier; the tone of his voice could not have been less intimidating. I turned to my right and took two steps in the gutter, looking back at the big mustached officer; he contorted his face in anger and screamed threateningly at me, "Get OUT OF THE STREET!" in a tone that should be reserved for a fleeing felon.

Being used to the friendly, courteous NYPD, I was astounded by the excessively aggressive behavior displayed by this public servant. I stepped onto the sidewalk and ran the distance to the next light. I, of course, had to wait minutes for the walk signal, and missed my train.

I have two complaints: First, this officer's behavior was excessive and uncalled-for; it ruined my day. The sad part is, that was obviously his intent. If you ask me, this guy is in the wrong job. Scaring residents half to death is not fulfilling an obligation "to protect and serve." There's no place for that type of behavior when dealing with an alleged minor misdemeanor resembling attempted jaywalking.

Secondly, make the Metro more accessible and convenient. Compared to NYC where you can go anywhere (on bus and/or train), transferring endlessly for a mere $2, public transportation here in D.C. is exorbitantly priced. It's $1.65 to go one single stop. Obviously, jaywalking is a misdemeanor in Alexandria—as I am now aware. Why not use some of those Metro dollars to install a crosswalk to the Metro station or shorten the excessive length of red lights at those intersections?

Until pedestrian accessibility improves, people will continue to jaywalk there. Instead of coddling the motorists and punishing those who are doing the right thing for the city and our environment by using Metro, why not address the Metro access problem at Eisenhower Avenue and other stations? A pedestrian overpass would be a good start.

Your Tax Dollars at Work

I work for a consulting company that won the bid for a Department of Defense web project. Fortunately, this week we began moving our people into the building in Rosslyn where the DoD folks on the project sit. It's pretty nice - the office space was just completely renovated, and the building is as close to a "downtown" as you can get around here; I definitely prefer it to the suburbs.

The woman whose cubicle is adjacent to mine is probably in her mid-forties. Her 11-year-old son is 5'3" tall, weighs 140, and plays two sports after school. They live in an 800-sf apartment near King Street and like to shop at Whole Foods. She picks her son up from his after-school activities in the evenings, while another mother drives the boys there. She's gained 10 pounds since she started this job. I found all of this out in less than two days of work (or, rather, what I call 'work').

And how do I know this much about the woman on the other side of my cubicle "wall?" Because Queen Gab Fest spends half her day on the phone, that's how.

And she is LOUD. I brought ear plugs in today and ended up putting them in and pulling them out of my ears all day long while Ms. Gabbie made her loud personal calls. To make matters worse, she's a fan of speaker phone. That was too much, I thought to myself while beating my head against my desk. But the kicker was when she turned on some video on her computer, with no qualms about airing the sound through her PC speakers. At that point, I finally spoke up, "What is that?"

"Oh, it's my computer. Sorry." Unfazed, the audio continued.

Anyone who has ever worked in a cubicle environment knows these unwritten rules: No loud voices, no music, no computer audio without headphones, and no speaker phone. Period. No, no, no, no, no!

The funny thing is, all of us consultants sit together in one area. The DoD folks sit on the other side of the floor. I'm surrounded by empty cubicles right now. Any occupied cubicle near me has one of my teammates sitting in it. Most of my teammates are still in the old office across town.

And yet, in this vast sea of empty cubicles, who ends up sitting just inches from me, with nothing more than two one-half-inch thick corkboards separating us? The loudest, most talkative, oblivious woman on the floor. Why isn't she sitting with her own folks? Hmmm.

So there you have it. Your tax dollars at work at the DoD. I can't imagine taking a job and then sitting on the phone half the day. It's either a Southern thing or a government thing because I saw it the last time I left NY and moved to this area. You figure, if she's spending a good four hours a day on the phone, she must be one of those people who surfs the Web and responds to personal email at work too. When does she work?

Maybe she doesn't have to. Maybe her boyfriend works at AiG . . . . but let's not go there. Not today.

Need a Day Off!

On Monday I started my new IT job and its associated ugly suburban bus commute (accompanied by extensive walking while carrying my mobile office and school books to and from the bus line).

By end of day Tuesday I had a severely pulled lower left back muscle, I could barely walk, and I was exhausted.

The topic of the lousy, overpriced D.C. Metro bus system here is something to be addressed later. God I miss my NY subway.

Monday and Wednesday were long days: Commute to the suburbs, walk to work, spend 8 hours at work, walk to the bus, commute by bus and train to school, attend a 2-hour class, then do the 50-to-60-minute commute home by train.

On Friday when I came home from work, I'd planned on getting caught up on my school work, but I was so tired that I went to bed at 8:30PM—I wanted to at least read for a while but I had to turn the lights out at 9:00 because I couldn't keep my eyes open. I couldn't believe it, myself.

Saturday morning came around quickly. I got up, did my weekend chores, then went to a 2-1/2-hour King Street Cats volunteer meeting.

After the meeting, I got a ride to Old Town, checked my business mail box at the UPS Store, then walked the 1-1/4 miles home from there, stopping at Whole Foods for a meal to bring home. There were more chores to do at home (including unloading part of my huge storage closet to dig out two boxes containing office iems for my job). After wrapping my dad's birthday present for shipping, I finally did some homework for the first time since last weekend.

This afternoon I was supposed to work at KSC doing adoptions for another four hours, but it was just too much. They were overly staffed, so I bowed out. Looks like I'm going to have to cut way back on my volunteer role from here on out. There's no way I'll survive doing that job, in addition to school and my full-time job. I know my limits!

And now I am ready for a day off! I've always admired people who can go to grad school and work full time. Now, I'm not quite sure how they pull it off. My mom says to just "keep slogging," so that's what I'll do. I'm so ready for my new career, but I have to wait until I finish my degree to get to the part where I finally get to do something meaningful by fighting crime.

Baby and I are watching a movie. Well, I'm watching; she's begging me to pull out the little red bug toy (also known as a laser light). I really need to get her a playmate.

A Day at the Newseum

Saturday, March 7, 2009

We were expecting great weather today, so I got out of the apartment and took the train into D.C. to explore a couple of museums. I'd planned on stopping by the National Archives, but they are still closed. Every time I try to visit the Archives, it's all roped off.

Anyway, I went straight to my other destination—the Newseum on Pennsylvania Avenue. The huge six-story, glass-encased museum is both expansive and bright, and comes complete with both a news chopper and tremendous video screen hanging in the large atrium.

The building rests on the same location where the National Hotel once stood. With the big exhibit "Manhunt: Chasing Lincoln's Killer"on location, it's an appropriate place for this museum, as John Wilkes Boothe had stayed at the National Hotel when he came to town to carry out his conspiracy to assassinate President Lincoln in April, 1865.

I arrived at the museum around 11:30 and scanned the many displays of today's headlines from around the country outside. I bought my $20 ticket and went downstairs to watch the 8-minute orientation movie, which was helpful. Then I visited the 12' tall sections of the Berlin Wall, which weigh 3 tons each and are covered with grafitti and art. That exhibit was neat. I walked inside the original East German security tower located along the wall at Checkpoint Charlie.

Starving, I stopped in the cafeteria for a delicious bowl of chili before continuing my tour. I was really impressed with the chili! Next, I went through the FBI exhibit "G-Men and Journalists," which was reminiscent of the National Museum of Crime & Punishment that I so love. On display were things like the Unabomber's Montana cabin (basically a small square hut with no running water nor electricity), and the FBI-fabricated vehicle used in the D.C. sniper trial to demonstrate how the snipers hid inside the rear end of the vehicle to target their defenseless victims.

There were also displays for Waco, the Oklahoma bombings, the Lindbergh kidnapping, and several of the infamous 1930's gangsters like Machine Gun Kelly, Baby Face Nelson, and Pretty Boy Floyd.

Then I took one of the big glass elevators up to the sixth floor to do the recommended top-down tour. The view of the U.S. Capitol is great from the outdoor pavilion on the top floor. The elevators are the tallest hydraulic-lift elevators in the world. The museum was so large that I didn't finish seeing everything.

The newscasts being aired in the 9/11 exhibit on fifth floor got me all choked up. I don't recall previously seeing interviews of people shortly after they escaped the towers. The tears of both the interviewers and interviewees were moving, to say the least. I guess it never gets easier.

The center of that exhibit holds the crumbled tip-top of the radio tower from the WTC, and there is a touching tribute to a photo-journalist named William Biggurt whose final photos were taken (and later retrieved) just before the north tower fell, crushing him. One wall contained headlines from around the world from that fateful day.

The 4-D movie about the history of news was informative, recounting the story of Nellie Bly's undercover stay in the Blackwell Island insane asylum, and other historical news events. I couldn't figure out what the fourth dimension was until I felt a "rat" running under my legs and the guts of a squashed cockroach fly into my face. Pretty cool effects.

After over three hours there, I was getting tired (and my plantar fasciitis was killing me more than it has since it cropped up last summer), but I couldn't stop looking at the exhibits.

I came upon the newscasting area and just had to get in line to perform my own newscast. That was fun! For $5.00 I was able to purchase a photo and web video of my brief report at the U.S. Supreme Court. (Participants got to pick which background they wanted to be filmed in front of—the white house, the capitol, a weather map, cherry blossoms, and the supreme court were the primary choices.) The teleprompter moved faster than I expected! And, of course, I couldn't help but laugh at the end when I had nothing else to say for the final 13 seconds. Duh.

It was after 4:00PM when I finally left and was barely walking. I came straight home and iced my right foot. This episode of plantar fasciitis is the worst I've ever had. I don't recall having this pain for eight months.

The worst thing is that one injury leads to another. The foot pain changes your gait, whether you realize it or not. This all started around July when I began adding some jogging to my very long walks in NYC. A couple months later, when I ran the Susan G. Komen 5K Race for the Cure on Sept. 14th, I pulled my right hamstring. I continued to run on it through the end of November when I started to enjoy running around the Central Park Reservoir, just assuming that the muscle kink will work itself out. It didn't.

Finally, I decided to give up the running and take it easy so I could heal. Gentle stretching (several times a day!), icing, and anti-inflammatories haven't helped. Ultimately, about a week ago, my right knee went out. I guess it was working too hard to compensate for the other two injuries.

I just can't win. My right leg is virtually out of commission. And just when the nice weather comes around and I want to get outside and explore! Aaargh. . . .

In any case, if you come to D.C., be sure to try to make it to the Newseum. You won't regret it.

America's Most Wanted

Last night I tuned in and saw part of "America's Most Wanted" on TV. I almost immediately recognized the skeletal form hanging behind John Walsh.

Hmmm . . . that sure reminds me of the Crime Museum, I thought. It really did look like the place where my friend Rashmi and I participated in a free CSI laboratory workshop a couple weekends ago.

I watched and waited. A little later in the show, John Walsh was broadcasting from the very room where the workshop took place, and that's when I knew it was the same place. I opened up my laptop and went straight to the AMW web site. Sure enough, the show is being filmed right here in D.C. at the National Museum of Crime & Punishment.

How cool is that!

Job-hunters, Beware

I finally got a job, after exactly five months and one day of unemployment. To all the other job-hunters out there, it ain't easy finding work. In fact, the more senior you are in your skillset, the longer it's going to take. I made 197 job contacts before getting my first real interview (excluding head hunter interviews, of which I was asked to attend only three); and I was 211 contacts into the process before I got an offer. Five months. One interview. One offer.

And that's the good news—it only took me five months to get a job. After that experience, I'm convinced that you're lucky in this market if you can get a job at all.

The bad news is that you can expect a pay cut. To get an idea of what to expect, take a look at your stock portfolio. There seems to be a positive correlation between the percentage drop in value of your overall financial worth and the percentage drop in pay. Don't be surprised if your new job pays 50-60% less than your old one.

Now is a great time to go back to school. If you can afford to go to school full time and live on student loans (maybe combined with a part-time job), do it. I would if I hadn't gotten stuck with a property I couldn't unload when I moved out of state for my last job. That puppy is sucking down more money every month than the cost of a large, luxury studio apartment in Midtown Manhattan. So I'm in school part time. I'll be 47 years old when I finish my Masters degree.

But at least I'll finally be following my dream!

Now to rest up before work starts next week. I've got just three days to relax before life gets crazy busy again. Thank god I can go three days without the headache of filling out job applications several hours a day!

Going Nuts

I can't believe that, as of today, it's been five full months of unemployment. This has never happened to me before. I suspect that there are many others like me, who were sure they'd get a new job pretty quickly after being laid off.

Yup - five months. And 209 resumes sent. That's scary. The good news is, about 12 resumes ago I was finally asked to interview for a position. Usually I get no response at all, so I was ecstatic to get an interview last week. (Heck, I was happy just to go somewhere.) The meeting went amazingly well. I was sure I'd nailed it. I came out feeling convinced that I'd get an offer.

That was a week ago. No offer yet. The waiting kills me. However, I still have all my fingers crossed (which makes it hard to type).

If I don't get a job soon I'm going to go stir-crazy. I've begun volunteering at the local cat orphanage, helping out with adoptions, feedings, cleaning, etc. So at least I have some interaction with other people (and more kitties - yay!). But this job called job-hunting requires too much indoor time and too much sitting. It's incredibly time-consuming. And it can be de-motivating when continued efforts yield zero results.

Being a person of pretty high energy, I am not very good at sitting still for extended periods of time. So this whole being unemployed thing is my own living hell. It's getting so bad that whenever I see New York City scenes on TV I just want to cry. How pathetic is that! There is most likely going to be some kind of therapy on the horizon for me.

On the bright side, I've really bonded with my cat, Baby. She's so cute. When I open a drawer anywhere in the house, she comes running. She could be a mile away and hear the drawer slide open. It's important that she crawl in it (or behind it) in order to see what might be hiding in there. If it's a clothing drawer, it becomes an insta-bed.

With all the time I've spent with her lately, I'm learning her language pretty well. I know when she's hungry, and when she wants to play. I know when she wants to be scratched, and when she wants a brushing. Fortunately, unlike Martin (my previous kitty, may he rest in peace), she doesn't have a need to "go out," so there is no whining by the front door.

But she does love attention. She's very dog-like. She follows me around the house, joining me in whatever room I've parked myself in. Sometimes she does this staring thing when I'm sitting in my favorite chair. (That means, "Get up and play with me!") She loves to play-fight and chase me around the apartment, too. She's a sweet little girl. I'm so glad I found her.

One of my good friends in Seattle, Janet, lost her sweet cat (named "Blue") to diabetes less than two weeks ago. I'm sure that Martin is looking after his soul. Janet had Blue for 18 years, ever since he was just a kitten. I know how she feels. Losing a pet is no different from losing any other member of the family. It's not an easy thing to get over. I don't think my mom ever got over losing our boxer, Ginny, in 1979. Neither did our cat, Kitty, who died not long after Ginny. Probably of a broken heart.

I told Janet that she needs to run out and adopt another one (or two) right away. Honestly, it's the best treatment for pet separation anxiety. Just find another one to rescue and love.

I wish it were as easy to find a new job.

Off to bed, only to wake up tomorrow in my sixth month of unemployment. Yikes!

Arrested in D.C.

I was once detained by a cop in New Orleans in 1996 (for the crime of walking down the street), and I'll never forget how mad (or naiive) I was about it. I had no idea why I was being detained. It was only later, when my fiance got home from work that evening, that I realized that the cop thought I was a prostitute. I wasn't dressed like one, but that didn't matter. I was on a "bad street," therefore I must be a hooker.

That pissed me off, but this is ridiculous! I'm quite sure that my civil rights were violated. Talk about your biased lineup! I don't look anything like those guys. This could ruin my chances of getting a security clearance - geez.

My friend Rashmi and I enjoyed our trip to the Washington D.C. National Museum of Crime & Punishment on Sunday. She, too, was booked. But she managed to escape from her jail cell through the cinderblock wall.

Ok, so it was kind of a large hole.

The one-hour CSI Lab Workshop was fun. The audience was given a homicide to solve and participated in an interactive demonstration given by real CSIs, one of whom graduated from the GWU forensics Masters program.


A shoeprint mold was taken from a footprint left in soil. And we all got to lift latent fingerprints from a framed photo found at the crime scene. Instead of using a fiber fingerprint brush we used a magnetic brush, which was cool.

At the end of the workshop we went upstairs to visit the staged crime scene and examine the evidence. Many of the things we talked about were the same things that I'm currently learning about in my Intro to Criminal Investigations class. It was good to do this workshop on Sunday, as the very next day was "Crime Scene Night" at school—a day that my classmates and I have looked forward to since the semester started.

Rashmi and I toured the museum. We saw John Dillinger's gorgeous car, not to mention a lock of his hair, which was quite the souvenir to obtain after his execution on July 22, 1934 by rogue FBI agents. All John Dillinger ever wanted was to "be a bank robber," a dream that lead to his death at the age of 31.

We also saw the famous Bonnie & Clyde vehicle, riddled with bullet holes.

In the museum section that covers types of goernment executions, there is a glass-enclosed robot measuring about a foot long and maybe 8" high. It is armed with a syringe and is labeled "Prototype: Lethal Injection Attack Droid." I called Rashmi over to check it out.

She took one look and (in her usual quick wit) replied matter-of-factly, "Man, they're cutting back on jobs everywhere."

I couldn't stop laughing for several minutes. :)

Sucker for Cute Kitties

I'm a sucker for cat videos (like this one, sent to me by my old Microsoft boss: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rooyt3ptNco&feature=email). I can't help myself. Even my cat, Baby, is spoiled beyond belief. She basically gets whatever she wants around here.

For example, the longer I stay unemployed, the earlier she gets her dinner. I adopted Baby just three weeks after arriving at my job on Wall Street in late 2007. In those days I got home from work anywhere from 6:00PM to 8:00PM.

So Baby generally got her dinner treat (a heaping spoonful of healthy, natural Innova canned food) between 6 and 7PM. She basically has her dried food available to her on a 24x7 basis. But there's something special about the canned food that she loves. This isn't about hunger.

After I became unemployed in September, I was home job-hunting all day every day (for the most part). So I was able to feed Baby her canned food no later than 6:00 every night. But she took advantage of her new-found fortune of having her caretaker at home all day. If it was getting close to 6PM, she'd let me know. She'd meow then sit and stare at me. Or, she'd follow me every time I got up to go in the kitchen, sitting on the floor looking up at me with those big eyes.

Soon, she was letting me know by 5PM. Her irresistible charms go the best of me, so I fed her at 5:00. That's not unreasonable.

But within a couple months it was 4PM. I told her, "Baby, this is getting ridiculous. I'll feed you now, but don't expect to eat this early again."

It's five months later now; today she ate her dinner at 3:00PM. Sigh.

It Must be February

Of all the months in the year, February is the worst. Grey, lifeless, no-leaf, dismal, cold, dead-of-winter February. Yuk.

Looking back at my last post is something that depresses even me! I blame February. I hate February. Always have. Always will. They should just cancel February and add those days to March. March is a month of renewal and hope. Springtime. Warmer days, the first flower blossoms. A sign of better things to come, like vacations and beaches and suntans.

Well, today I felt better. It was a wonderful, sunny 56-degree day, although it felt warmer than that. After ZipCar-ing up to Maryland to show my rental home to a wonderful woman (I hope she takes it!), I came home and took a long walk. I finally went up to the George Washington Masonic National Monument for the first time. It sits atop a hill overlooking Alexandria, from King Street station to the Potomac, about a mile from home. It's the one tall structure in Alexandria that you can see for miles, and it's lit up at night like the Chrysler building. (If you ever need to find the Amtrak station, just head for this tower.)

Tomorrow my friend Rashmi (from Laurel) and I are meeting downtown to tour the Crime & Punishment Museum. We signed up for a CSI lab workshop afterward, something I've been looking forward to for a couple weeks. We'll be learning about fingerprints, footprints, and imprints. I already got through the chapter about fingerprint ridges in my Criminal Investigations class, but that's not the same as doing it in real life! It should be fun.

Unfortunately, Crime Scene Night for my class was cancelled last week. My teacher broke her leg and ankle on the ice. (That now makes three people in our small class of 10 on crutches.) So Crime Scene Night is slated for this coming Monday, Feb. 9th. I should be well-prepared after my trip to the Crime Museum tomorrow. Let's hope this weather holds up. Everyone needs cheering up these days, myself included!

Although, on a sad note, the famous Peeler Guy (Joe Ades) of Union Square in Manhattan died last week. My brother Dave passed on the news to me. I was saddened by it. But I realize that Joe lived the kind of life we should all celebrate--he's the type of guy who never dies. I used to watch him sitting on a crate on the sidewalk in his suit, hawking his five-dollar vegetable peelers at Union Square, right across the street from the Petco on 16th Street, and sometimes at street fairs. He's a New York icon whose memory will live on in the hearts of millions. See a meaningful tribute written by David Galbraith.

Spam Comeback

I just saw on the NBC Nightly News that Hormel Spam is making a comeback. A few seconds later, I discovered online that Spam was introduced during the Great Depression. With another half a million jobs last in the past four weeks, it's no wonder people are buying Spam again.

A recession is one thing, but now we're hearing talk of a "mini-depression." No doubt, conversations about a "depression" will be right around the corner. Pretty scary stuff.

One of the other things revealed in tonight's news cast is that the two primary sectors that are still hiring are government and health care. These two industries are your best shot at finding a job. It's interesting. If that's truly the case, I should be employed by now. I live in the Metropolitan D.C. area - a hotbed of government agencies. There are probably more government jobs available here than anywhere else in the country. I know because I apply for several every day on the USAJobs.gov web. I literally couldn't have a better chance at getting a job in this sad economy than I do here.

I have a great resume that includes 18 years of IT and technical publications experience. And, I have a degree now. How ironic: this is the first time I've conducted a job hunt having that piece of paper in hand, and yet it's useless (for the purposes of being increasing marketability, that is). Right now it's harder than ever to get a response to a job inquiry.

Let's see . . . looking at my spreadsheet, I see that I've made 188 attempts to get a job interview since September 20th. (That means 188 resumes sent, applications submitted, or contacts made.) Nearly 150 of those submisions are for jobs in the D.C. area. And the responses to those are few and far between. At this point, I'm getting a response for about one in 30 inquiries. And a response can be so much as "do you have a clearance?" "No, I don't." End of thread. They don't even reply to you when you answer their questions. Doesn't matter how many times you beg.

It doesn't get much worse than this. In all my years as a professional, I've never had this much trouble finding a job. I can continue to survive this way for a while yet. That's the good news. It just means I'll be eating up all the money set aside for grad school. I don't mind that. It's if I have to wipe out every penny I've ever saved that will bother me. But I have a long way to go before that happens. That makes me one of the lucky people.

I have it good compared to a lot of people. But, if it's this hard for me to find a job in the one place in the country where there are jobs, what about the rest of the unemployed? What about people who have nothing in savings? People with families and no income? People with massive medical bills? People who lost their homes? These are the folks who need our prayers.

Tough times indeed.

Bad Baby

My dear sweet Baby has a new bad habit. I can't keep her off the kitchen counter. I've tried, but there's just no point in my wasting my breath anymore. She loves to get up on the bar stools parked at the kitchen bar. The counter is just one step up from there, so she really doesn't know the difference. At my old place in Brooklyn she had to jump up onto the counter and would remove herself when I told her to "Get down." Not here in Virginia.

She has the same habit with our new (old) dining room table that my friend Rashmi kept for me while I was living in NY. I certainly can't keep her off the table because it's simply her new path to the window sill.

This is her territory and I can't stop her, so I have given up trying. Not to mention, that adorable face is irresistable. . . .

MagicJack: You Get What You Pay For

Some of us unemployed folks who can't afford a land line (and have bad cell service because all those red-shirted guys in the Verizon network can't seem to find the elevator to my floor), have been forced to try a VOIP system called MagicJack. It's dirt cheap. You pay about $40 for the USB device that plugs into your computer, then about $20/year for unlimited local and long distance calls.

My 30-day trial period is up today, and I've decided to keep the MagicJack, despite its flaws. This is fair warning to anyone out there who wants to try this product. It's a true fact that you will get what you pay for.

The MagicJack works OK for the most part. But there are issues. One issue is that the phone will stop dialing out occasionally. Stopping and restarting the software will generally fix that. Or I just reboot my PC.

Another issue is that you'll hear occasional beeps on the line, as if your cat was walking on the telephone pad, pressing the dial buttons. These can be annoying. Sometimes you hear them on your end, and sometimes your call recipient only hears them on his or her end of the line.

I've seen other complaints about this problem on online complaint boards; therefore, it's what we in the software industry call a "known problem." For every known problem, there should be a fix.

Not with MagicJack. They don't have a clue. Worse, the only way to obtain technical support is via online chat. If you can find the correct link to click on at the MagicJack web site to access the chat support folks, then you're 90% of the way there. After that, it's all downhill.

The support person, who is no doubt sitting in Bangalore (based on the lack of command of the English language) will never offer you a cause for the problem, much less a resolution. The toubleshooting steps consist strictly of trial-and-error, with the tech support person offering such sage advice as, "disable your firewall." Right. "How will that help the occasional audio beeps on my phone?" I asked. "Um, never mind. Don't do that. Let's reboot your router instead."

Unplug your MagicJack. Plug it back in.

Edit the registry. Change permissions on several USB-related folders to Full Control and then delete several registry keys. (My god!!)

If you aren't using the [absolutely unnecessary] USB extension cord, plug it into a USB port and plug your MagicJack to the extension cable. It will magically 'help add power' to your MagicJack. (I beg to differ.) Go to Disk Management and right-click. . .

And that's where I hung up. I know that the phone beeps have got to be a bug in the software. Everything points to that.

Nonetheless, it's a minor inconvenience and I will hang on to my MagicJack for now since it's saving me the 50 bucks a month plus taxes that Verizon wants for a land line, which I think is highway robbery.

To give you an idea of the quality of support you'll get, here is a snippet from my most recent online chat, about 35 minutes into it, which was "escalated" to Rosey. (Note that, at this point in the ridiculous conversation I was just a tad frustrated with the poor quality of support and on the verge of losing my sense of humor. . . . )

Rosey: You are only saying that you are a one
Rosey: If you don't want me to help you fix it, then fine!
susan: I am a "one"?
susan: I want to speak to someone who can help.
susan: Please
Rosey: I am trying to help you, so don't be rude
Rosey: I am trying to be nice.
Rosey: Don't try mew that I will not treat you nice
Rosey: And i am not that..
susan: Oh my god.
susan: Let me speak to your manager please
Rosey: I respect every people and my custoer
Rosey: *customer
susan: Thank you. Please escalate this issue to a manager.
susan: Is Therese available?
Rosey: They are on a meeting right now and I am the one who assigned to assist customers.
Rosey: Therese is not available right now, she is handling other chats.
susan: Well, I still don't have a fix for my ongoing problem. I just made a call and heard the beeping. What next?
susan: Can you just look in your knowledge base and tell me what the known fix is for this, if there is one?
Rosey: Are you using the extension cord now?
susan: yes
Rosey: Okay..
susan: what is the correct fix? if you don't know, then please say so. trial and error is not going to fix a bug in the product. can you please email your developers and ask them what they are doing to fix this?
Rosey: Please go into Task Manager (press alt-ctrl-delete on your keyboard one at a time together to get to it), look for the magicjack.exe process, right click on it, and set the priority to High.
susan: already did that, two days ago.
Rosey: Please do it again
susan: It's still set to high.
Rosey: Okay..
susan: ?
Rosey: Please unplug your magicJack. Now go to "Start" in Windows and click on "run". In there write regedit and press enter.
susan: you want me to edit my registry?????

Studying Computer Forensics

I'm sitting here watching a DVD of Crime 360 episodes. It's prep work for one of my classes in school.

It's been a long time since I actually enjoyed a class I was taking in school. That's because when I chose to go back to school to finally finish my undergraduate degree (in 1988), I basically chose courses that were the fastest route to getting that piece of paper—not classes in a field that I had a passion for.

The minute I found something more interesting to do, (which was work at Microsoft), I quit school again. It's too bad that I spent so many years of my prime confused about what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Grad school is a whole lot different. I'm taking courses that I truly enjoy. And the teachers are people with real day jobs in the field we are studying; they aren't teaching just by a book. I am so glad I finally finished my Bachelor's degree so that I can pursue my dream and get a career that is truly satisfying. (I might be less happy about things if I don't find a day job soon — it'll be hard to study when I'm living on the street.)

Studying computer forensics is a whole new ball game for me. What kind of class lets you watch true crime TV shows for homework? Introduction to Criminal Investigations! That's what kind. What kind of class has you writing a case brief every week? Introduction to Criminal Law —which is more about criminal procedure than law.

I love the stuff I'm learning in both my classes, but Investigations is the more fun of the two courses. For the past few weeks my classmates and I have been looking forward to February 2nd. That's "Crime Scene Night." The stuff we do the rest of the semester will be based on our investigation of a crime scene staged by a veteran DC police criminal investigator.

For example, we have to present our investigative findings (as members of two teams) the week after crime scene night. Then, later in the semester, we each have to write a search warrant. A viable search warrant. It's not as easy as it sounds.

From what I'm learning in my Crim Law class—which is primarily a lot of reading—a search warrant has to meet several criteria if it's going to hold up in court. The most important criteria is probable cause. You can't get a warrant without it. We all know that just from watching TV. Establishing probable cause falls under its own set of rules, however, especially if the information came from an informant.

If a warrant doesn't hold up, any evidence found under that warrant can be thrown out on the Exclusion Rule. In addition, evidence derived from illegally obtained evidence can be thrown out under the Fruit of the Poisonous Tree Doctrine. The key lies in understanding the Fourth Amendment and appropriately interpreting case law that is based on it.

And does an officer always need a search warrant to perform a search? There are exceptions, such as a "Terry stop," otherwise known as a "stop-and-frisk." Determining when you do and don't need a warrant is a decision that frequently has to be made under life-or-death circumstances. Police have to understand individual rights and the laws that protect those rights before they make any move to search or seize a person, place or thing.

It's one thing to know what the Fourth Amendment is, but it's another thing entirely to know how to apply it to real life criminal procedure. Like they say, every rule has an exception. Laws vary by jurisdiction and get modified by the Supreme Court over time. I understand now that police officers have to be really good at thinking on their feet. This stuff is complicated and rarely is as straight forward as they make it look on Law & Order.

If I can recite the Fourth Amendment on the final exam in my Crim Law class, I get extra credit. Woo-hoo! Because my memory is so poor, I've started the memorization process a few months in advance of the exam. It's 54 words, and by now I can remember the first 33 of them. Here it is.

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Fascinating stuff!

D.C. on Steroids

Here in northern Virginia, the hype and anticipation leading up to today has been phenomenal. Although I was not one of the hundreds of thousands of people who battled jam-packed subways and freezing cold to join the festivities on the Mall, I did get caught up in the emotion watching the historical event on TV.

I've never seen D.C. so alive. Estimates place the attendance at two million. Wow! Two million happy people in one place at one time. The positive emotion was felt all over the world. One woman interviewed on TV came all the way from Kenya for the event.

A nice family that I spoke to on the subway this afternoon came from Waldorf, MD. The mother and her two daughters were so thrilled, so overjoyed, to have been a part of history. They said they got up at 4:30 in the morning and drove to Virginia, parking across the street from my apartment building to take the Metro into the city. It took them seven hours to get to the Mall. That's dedication. And it is exactly why I didn't go. :)

But it was fun talking to them and seeing their smiling faces. I suddenly felt like I was in New York again!

What an exciting day. It's kinda neat to be in such close proximity to all of the excitement. I wish I could say "I was there," but I'll have to settle for "I was really close by!"

113 Resumes

I am one of 260,000 people laid off from Wall Street in the past several months.

Since September 20 I've submitted my resume/application (or made some sort of job contact) a total of 113 times. The actual responses I get are few and far between. I get a response for about one in every 15 resumes sent. The reasons that the response number is so low vary. Over the past three months I've determined the following:

1. Many jobs listed on the Internet by staffing agencies do not exist. One recruiter actually told me that they post jobs that don't exist just to build their database of resumes. This practice should be illegal. Truly, it is false advertising.

2. No one actually sees resumes that are submitted through online job sites. Whether the job exists or not is irrelevant in this case. Your resume gets dumped into a database without passing the eyes of any live human being. Chances are, you'll never hear back. If I can't email or talk to an individual (a live human being) about a job posting, I know that I'll never hear back, which has proven to be true 99.9% of the time over the past four months.

3. If you do get a hold of a recruiter, they generally say, "that job has already been filled, but we'll add your resume to our database and contact you if there's a match." This is either true or, more likely, the job never existed in the first place. I've seen this where I've applied for a job literally a few hours after it was posted, only to find it's already been filled. Doubtful.

3a. These staffing agency recruiters are highly inexperienced. Most are 20-something and just do the job for a paycheck. I swear, most of the ones I've talked to have zero technical background and don't even understand the technical skill set needed for job that they are recruiting for. It's pathetic and can be frustrating at times.

4. Eighty percent of jobs are gained by knowing the right person, not by applying online. Networking is key. This is why keeping up with your LinkedIn profile and contacts is so important.

5. Competition is steep. On average, right now there are three applicants for every opening.

Applying for government jobs is incredibly time-consuming. For example, I applied for one job this week that cost me hours of my time just learning the application process. The application instruction document was 23 pages long. Then, once I've applied, figuring out which "supplemental documentation" is required for that particular vacancy is a job in and of itself. Circular references are common on these web sites, and figuring out the application process is 90% of the battle.

The good thing is that you know the job actually exists if it's posted on usajobs.gov or fbijobs.gov or a similar agency web site. The drawback is that it frequently takes the agency's HR staff up to 90 days to get back to you. And that's only if you actually submitted all the correct documents, which you'll never know.

Never mind trying to get your account reinstated if you get locked out of one of these gov't agency web sites that you last signed into in 2005. You won't even get a response to repeated requests to have your password reset. There are hundreds of these agencies, and all have different application processes and requirements. It's sad that there cannot be one process for all federal jobs. Think of all the time and money that would save U.S. taxpayers!

With unemployment at 7.2%, these are difficult times. Networking is the key to getting a new job.