The Werewolf's Exile Has Been Struck by a Silver Bullet: Relocated to Nashville

The werewolf's silence these past few weeks has been on account of his recent relocation to Nashville to pursue an exciting career opportunity. For those few readers out there, the werewolf regrets to inform you that he hasn't really been struck dead by a silver bullet or slain by a long lost descendant of Abraham Van Helsing. However, the period of official exile from the real world has ended. In many ways, the werewolf will always be a willing exile from the mainstream and popular culture, but at least he can now manage exile on his terms. This blog is far from being silenced, yet, for the next few weeks, posting may be a tad sparse. Cheers!

The Police: Man In A Suitcase (live)

Unlike certain fine wines, the Police did not get better with age. That doesn't discredit the occasional hit they produced during their later years, nor is it an attempt to impugn Sting's strange, yet occasionally decent solo career. Quite simply, they just happened to produce their best stuff during their first act. Their Zenyatta Mondatta album and its edgy blend of punk, reggae and new wave is unreal and never ceases to be a great listening experience. "Man in A Suitcase" may be the best Police song you have never heard before given all of the self-pitying strange musical experiments, like "Every Breath You Take," that seem to anchor their reputation by today's flaccid standards.

It's been an interesting few weeks for the werewolf. Last week he rejected the gradual stagnation of exile in suburban New York and relocated to Washington, DC, to pursue an opportunity in politics. Exile is still far from over.

The werewolf is grateful that his best friend of many a year, the Legal Beagle, has a loft in Chinatown and has allowed the werewolf to crash on the couch for the time being. A fringe benefit has been being spoiled by the Legal Beagle's gourmand wife, as he just watched her pack his lunch for tomorrow. It'll be hard to leave both the good company and excellent food that the Legal Beagle's yuppie domicile provides. Valuing relationships and nurturing credibility have been some of exile's key takeaways thus far.

This weekend will mark a strange new chapter in exile as the werewolf sublets a room in a house from a old hippyish, cat lady. They say life comes at you fast sometimes. No shit. The price is right for the time being and it gives the werewolf the ability to chase his dreams. Even though he will literally be a man in a suitcase for the next two to three months.

The abrupt move to DC has done wonders for his confidence and sense of self-worth. In some ways, the werewolf is beginning to reconnect with his long lost mojo. A prized characteristic he thought had atrophied months ago.

To celebrate his moving to DC, the werewolf allowed himself out of the cage and behaved as if the moon was full this past Saturday night. Although rusty and a tad humbler than before, he is pleased to announce that he hasn't lost his ability to be pleasantry pleasantly reckless and wild under the right circumstances. Someday he hopes to recount the improbable debauchery that ensued.

Yesterday was the first day of his transitional political job. It went well. The next few months will require some ball-busting labor, humble, but hungry attitude, and an appetite for risk. But for the first time in a long while, the werewolf feels slightly human. A-hoooo!

The werewolf interviews

One of the things the werewolf intended to write about when this blog was quickening, was the style and haberdashery of the modern man. (It's unoriginal, I know, but they say write about the things you like and know about.) To be charitable, the werewolf can be described as a rabid clothes hound with an insatiable appetite for classic tailored clothes and styles. He fancies himself a bizarre blend of trad, preppy, and country gentlemen when he is at his best.

The attempted look was the understated financial services professional seeking to blend in, yet knows how to dress. The suit is an two-buttoned, medium shoulder padded, single pleated, made-to-measure charcoal gray Adrian Jules from the now defunct Michael Christopher in Atlanta; the shirt is a light blue herringbone with french cuffs and a spread collar from Robert Talbott, the tie is standard navy and red Hermes; the cuff-links are hunting hounds from England; and the shoes are black Johnston & Murphy cap-toes that the werewolf acquired during his first internship on Capital Hill in 2001(They are faithful servants on their second sole).  During the end of business school and throughout exile, I have lost a little weight causing some billowing in the shirt, yet somehow, I look like a chubby-fuck in those pictures. I would love any input on the look, as I am constantly trying to improve and I fear exile has dulled my sartorial senses.

Anyhow, last Thursday, the werewolf was in Washington, DC, interviewing for a management consulting position. For the record and despite being an Vanderbilt MBA, the werewolf wants it to be known that he harbors a healthy skepticism for lawyers, investment bankers, and management consultants. (The werewolf recognizes and embraces the value that the aforementioned trades bring, but the consensus of their alleged collective greatness stokes his contrarian flames on multiple levels, plus consulting promotes the wearing of black suits, a hell-bound and unforgivable style sin in the werewolf's book) He'll think of something pithy to have engraved on his headstone that captures the aforementioned sentence and his strong emotions on the subject.

Back to the interview, for whatever reason, something about the interview had the werewolf profoundly nervous and agitated the few days prior. It was some sort of uncharacteristic lapse in confidence that was a first for him. Perhaps it was the fact that the quiet desperation of exile has him considering career options he vowed never to pursue and that breaking his own internal code of honor for all the wrong reasons just causes indigestion. He conquered his internal defects and rallied to put his best effort forward. In retrospect, The werewolf gives himself a B for his interview performance. He didn't royally fuck-up, yet, yet he didn't knock the truck window out. Quick overview, the werewolf had two interviews with senior managers in the firm, both lasting about an hour. The first interview was with the chief of research officer, a nice and smart guy, who had the attitude of a failed academic. It was lively discussion; there was were a few small case questions bandied about, however, the interviewer fixated at the werewolf's three years as an insurance broker, and was obsessed with trying to get the werewolf to confess that there is no longer a value-add in that important financial service. Rest assured, the werewolf didn't buckle. The second interview was the head of new product development. The guy was nice enough, but had a sever head cold, and was doped up on some sort of cocktail of DayQuil/NyQuil because he asked the werewolf the same question three different times throughout the interview and kept being intrigued by the same answer. Plus, his runny nose and glassy eyes were distracting. That's the quick wrap on it all.

The company itself was a tad sterile and stodgy. However, they must have had an unwritten policy that dictates recruiting tall attractive women from the volleyball teams of elite universities. While waiting in the reception area, three exceedingly lust-worthy women who exceeded 6ft in height, floated down the marble floored hallway with the sound of their clacking heels heralding their approach. They all had that bitchy and entitled "I know I am hot, asshole" look about them bred exclusively in elite universities. The werewolf was proud to be caught by the second one in one of those head-turning scope the chick's best features as she walks by moves. Sometimes, discretion is overrated.

Back to Exile

The werewolf is back in suburban New York City after a great run with the highly competitive state house race in northeastern Texas(Today is ELECTION Day). Campaigns can be a great time, really. They keep you on your toes and have refreshing energy about them.

It is a strange sensation going from 0 to 60 back to 0 in quick succession. The thrill of being actively engaged and having purpose invigorates one's soul in the best of ways, especially after an extended period of involuntary idleness. However, just as quickly as the sense of purpose is satiated, a terrible vacuum and refreshed emptiness reestablish themselves. Right before he left for Texas, a series of positive developments had occurred on the job prospect front for the werewolf, or so he thought. Several first round interviews were conducted in mid-February for a variety of jobs ranging from the publishing industry, to nonprofit, to management consulting.

In an odd twist of fate, the werewolf will be proceeding to a second round interview with a management consulting firm later this week. The irony at hand is that this was the most competitive of the job vacancies that the werewolf has applied to lately, the one he thinks he is the weakest fit for, and also the toughest one to secure. He is still a long way from securing it, and the case interviews scheduled for later this week have him deeply unnerved for a variety of reasons. (Unlike normal behavioral interviews, case interviews run a gamut of possibilities and can be highly combative and intense) Yet, it also begs a fundamental question about how the labor market operates, how we find our fit within it, how to manage our expectations for ourselves and how to nurture ambitions.

Hopefully, a broader portrait of opportunity will be painted over the next few weeks and more call backs will occur. In the meantime, here's to trucking away and turning lemons into lemonade.

A week in review: New burger joint, a few decent laughs, exile looms

Yet another week has droned by for this werewolf in exile. Beyond the standard routine of job hunting, cover letter writing, networking, task list execution, and for the sake of stability and sanity, daily gym trips, the werewolf has a few semi-note worthy things to share.

There is a woman who bears an eerie resemblance to Helen Hunt at his gym. She's always on the same treadmill. If it is her, the last few years haven't been kind. Not from a horizontal perspective, it's just the woman's face has huge bags under the eyes. As Good as It Gets is still one of the werewolf's favorite films.

The werewolf has applied to four distinct opportunities in the energy, extractive mining, and steel industries. He hopes for at least one call-back.

An old flame turned nemesis emailed the werewolf out of the blue bitching about the tobacco industry. It caught the werewolf flat-pawed. He doesn't like being unnerved. She still lacks a sense of humor.

While on a recent visit into NYC, the werewolf discovered something new, the Black Shack: A Burger Joint. Few things excite the werewolf as much as unapologetic greasy burger joints. The Black Shack satisfies. The joint is sparse; service is attentive and quick; the burger is meaty, filling, and cheap; and the fries are crispy and salty. He'll go back. The werewolf actually met the owners while they were pouring over their spread sheets and talking market strategy one booth over. They seemed like nice and driven entrepreneurs. One of them claimed a USC MBA. 

While enjoying drinks at a bar with his brother and a good friend, the trio engaged in a brief but fascinating conversation about what foreign accent on a female is the most seductive. The werewolf's brother, the Shark, voted for an Australian accent. The werewolf recalls his friend, Patrick Bateman, suggesting a preference for a Teutonic accent.  The werewolf is highly predictable. He goes bananas for ladies with either an Anglo or Afrikaans accent from South Africa. They command a very high premium in the werewolf's valuation book.

The werewolf crossed paths with a dear friend from business school who will be completing his JD/MBA this May. Smart guy. He hates the law and has vowed never to practice it. He's looking for a finance job in NYC. Easier said than done. The werewolf and his friend commiserated about an exceedingly debaucherous New Orleans bachelor they both attended in late March of 2009. Few things make for male bonding like recalling shared memories of improbable and grotesque mischief.

It has been colder than an icicle on a polar bear's ding dong this past week. In a fitting twist of fate, the Saabstory's air conditioning died. At least it has heated seats.

As this week ends, the werewolf begins the next week with the hopes of something to liberate him from exile. Here's to something better.

TALKING HEADS: Once in a Lifetime (Live)

A timeless song. It seems particularly relevant in exile.

The werewolf finds something refreshing in David Byrne's controlled dance spasms. It reminds him of the spiritual folks who really get into their music at AME churches.

The Business School Experience: CPR or UPS?

This clip sums up the werewolf's business school experience. Well, not really, but close.

It was shortly after business school started, during one of those intense study sessions where nothing makes sense, while realizing the scope of the pending disaster that was Corporate Finance, that the werewolf's good friend, and partner-in-crime, the Saint Bernard, fired up this video. It immediately alleviated the asphyxiating pain of weighted average cost of capital calculations and gave the werewolf the gift of hope for the first time in a couple of weeks. Sayings like "knocking the truck window out," "givin' the man UPS," and "that's the way it was" became a coded vernacular for gauging how a particular class, day, event, was going at b-school.

The werewolf doesn't believe that having an emotional circle jerk with an over-educated therapist or binging on pre-packaged pharmaceutical wonder pills is a solution to any credible problem we face as humans. However, staring the cosmic joke that is life in the face, laughing, and moving on to the next challenge is. However, this video was a great secondary coping mechanism.

Someone very smart aptly described the b-school experience as drinking from fire-hose. Anonymity precludes the werewolf from giving credit where it is due, but rest assured, that quote is understated in its accuracy. It really only applies to the first year, and more accurately the first-half of the first year, but boy, does that quote hit the nail on the head.

The werewolf was always more of a "dreamer with an attitude" than the "master of the universe" that traditionally pursues an MBA. He certainly fits the bill as an atypical MBA searching for a career. B-school changed the werewolf in several ways, mostly for the better. In hindsight, it was a grueling, but worthwhile experience that he is thrilled he undertook. It has given him, coupled with exile a unique perspective on life. At the moment, the werewolf feels "like the man was dead" but is eagerly searching for "some UPS." Please bear with him as he tries to reflect, make sense of, and place value on his b-school education.

An Anthem from Exile: AC/DC - It's a Long Way To The Top (If You Wanna Rock 'N' Roll)

On its very best days, exile is a dark and dreary place. Yet, the werewolf marches on. Oddly, a sound track for exile is beginning to take shape. Given his classic rock roots, the werewolf looks to AC/DC when in doubt. This song, which was one of the first put AC/DC on the map back in mid-1970's, has a shamelessly simple headbanging beat, coupled with the cliched, yet timeless message of perseverance. In essence, AC/DC released it well before the shine of their stardom was at its brightest. It's cool in that cheesy and "who gives a crap" kinda way. (Cut the werewolf some slack, inspiration is a rare commodity these days.)

Taking a step back, it's the only classic rock song that comes to mind which seamlessly harmonizes bagpipes into its rock 'n' roll rhythm (Please correct me, if I am mistaken). Given that bagpipes usually are not the most pleasant of sounding instruments, it's an impressive feat.

Lastly, it hearkens back to the Bon Scott era of AC/DC. Bon Scott, AC/DC's first lead singer, was one of the models for the archetype of the uber-hedonistic and hyper-partying hard rockers. The guy could allegedly rival both Keith Richards and Rick James for the crazy excesses associated with sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll. His irreverent fun loving rockster is in full form when he sticks his tongue out at the camera early in the video. He is the inspiration for the absent band member from the mockumentary, This is Spinal Tap, who "choked to death on his own vomit." While hilarious in the context of the film, sadly, that is actually how Bon Scott departed this fair world after a wild night in London before the werewolf was even born. Despite this song being one of their first chart toppers, AC/DC hardly ever plays it anymore. Probably out of respect to Bon Scott and his legacy. Bon Scott has come up more than once during weeknight trivia games at several waterholes the werewolf used to frequent. Remember that.

Anyhow, the werewolf will persevere. He knows "It's a long way to the top, if you want want to rock 'n' roll!" He may be ascending via the detour, but he's got his proverbial six string in hand and he's ready to rock. Here's to what tomorrow may bring!