The following is the fifth in a series of journal entries from a member of the CareerBuilder.com community about losing his job and searching for a new one. At his request, his name has been withheld so he can relay experiences with his former company and potential employers with impunity."Joe" (his nom de blog) is 45 years old and was let go from a management position at a major consumer products company. He relocated with his family to take the job a little more than a year ago. He has agreed to write an online diary about his experience.Not bad if I do say so myself. Just two weeks into my search, and I've already lined up my first interview. Not only that, they're flying me into Omaha, Nebraska, so that I can meet with the entire team.I've scoured the company's Web site and annual report and done further research. Next, I sit down and prepare responses to the old standards: Why do you want to work here? What do you bring to the table? What are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?As I do this, my wife is looking for houses on Realtor.com. "Wow!" she enthuses. "If you get this job, we could live like kings."It's true. While in our Westchester County, New York, neighborhood, $1 million buys you little more than a starter home, in the greater Omaha area, you could buy a palatial estate for considerably less.My wife wants to role-play with me. (I decline.) Then she decides I need a makeover. "It's been 16 years since you've been on the market, Joe. You need to update your packaging.""I'm fine," I mutter."But, you're over 40, and it's a competitive market. Polishing your image could give you that edge you need," she says as she enters with an armload of skin- and hair-care products."Oh, no," I say. "I'm a man. You're not puttin' that stuff in my hair.""OK," she sighs, as she goes back to surfing the listings on Realtor.com. "But at least go out and get yourself a pair of pleatless pants."I roll my eyes and say, "It's Omaha, for chrissakes -- land of parkas and beef."She sticks out her tongue and prints out pages of her Nebraskan dream home.Fast-forward to interview day. I arrive in Omaha, where it's 30 degrees colder than when I left New York. I enter the corporate lobby, shivering in my parka, as smooth-skinned men in complicated hairstyles and leather jackets walk by.In fact, I see so much black leather, it's almost more New York than New York. Has the whole world gone metrosexual?The interviews go reasonably well, but I have to admit, I do feel a bit out of date and under-moisturized. Maybe I should have exfoliated after all.I call my wife on the way to the airport. She already has checked out neighborhood schools and downloaded information about the area's cultural institutions."I think it went well," I tell her, "but don't get too excited."Then I settle in with a magazine and come across an article called "The Feminization of Men." It's about how the definition of what it means to be a man is changing and why image and "soft skills" such as emotional intelligence, listening and consensus-building are now essential for a man to get ahead in the workplace.A few days later, I get the call: "They really liked you, but they decided to go with another candidate.""Any other feedback?" I ask."Well, they didn't think the job required someone with your extensive level of experience," the recruiter tells me.I'm deflated. Then I start to stew. Was that the real reason? Or do they just want some young narcissist who's all style and no substance?Hell, I've got a soft side: I cook, I've been to the Guggenheim, my wife and I even rented "Something's Gotta Give" and watched "Desperate Housewives" together last weekend.I grab a beer from the fridge, catch my reflection in the sliding glass doors and call out: "Honey, do these pleated pants make me look fat?"
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