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3:30pm Friday afternoon I got my first 'Dear John' call; apparently I haven’t got the skill set they’re looking for at this time. Normally this wouldn’t have been a reason for concern, but with an ever-shrinking pool of roles out there, elimination felt a little like Posh Spice being informed she can’t sing (or dance).

The sad fact is that having got my CV out there with headhunters, some of whom I’m confident are doing more than spraying it about like a drunk in a urinal, I now have little to do but wait.

This is going to be difficult. Activity, however fruitless, feels like progress. It’s easy to convince yourself that adding another headhunter to the list is a step in the right direction, but in reality it’s equivalent to being reunited with yet another long lost friend on Facebook – nice to have, but of no practical purpose whatsoever.

Instead, I’m trying to limit myself to the odd call to my existing coterie of h-hunters. Once a week (or so), I remind them that I still exist and that I am still looking for a job.

Buy-side firms still wary

In the meantime, contracting looks like an increasingly appealing option. The message I’m getting from headhunters and those in the business is that the credit logjam remains solid. Late last year, it seemed that buyside funds might ramp up as credit spreads leapt wider and opportunities for bottom feeding emerged. In fact, ongoing turmoil means buy-side firms are still wary of hiring additional staff. The only exception appears to be the debt advisory side of the business, where the SIV/CDO mess needs attention.

Unfortunately, my attempts to inveigle my way into the contracting market have so far come to nothing: I called a recruiter that offers contracting roles but somehow ended up meeting the structured finance consultant. I am taking this as a sign that I am not desperate enough to resort to contracting just yet.

Joy of escaping low morale

After a brief respite, my former employer has been wielding the axe again. People who’ve been chopped appear positively gleeful at escaping a workplace where morale’s hit rock bottom. A friend of mine compared his state of mind over the past three weeks to that of a caged animal rocking from side to side, waiting for it all to end. Fortunately, he was released before the urge to chew his foot set in.

It also transpires that those let go in the most recent round were offered a considerably lower payoff than those of us dumped in April. Not only was I able to avoid the foot-chewing phase of the past few months, I am also better off for having been one of the first to go.