The following is the third in a series of journal entries a member of the CareerBuilder.com community is writing about losing his job and searching for a new one. At his request, we are withholding his name 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 had relocated with his family to take the job a little over a year ago.I wake up to the first official day of my new job: Finding a job. I set my alarm for 6 a.m. (Don't want to waste away a minute I could spend finding my great new position.) But there was no need; my sense of dread had me awake well before dawn.I spent most the night thinking about what role I may have played in having my nose forcibly removed from the grindstone. Was it my indignation at being crammed into a cube? Could the boss tell how disgusted I used to get when he'd spend the better part of our staff meetings bragging about how much he bench-pressed the day before? Or was it my aggressive lack of interest in the work itself?Enough soul-searching, I decide. Introspection has its place, but it will do nothing to salvage my current situation.I charge out of bed, put on a pot of coffee and make my way down to what I call the "War Room" -- actually the unfinished portion of our basement that I've commandeered from my wife. I pack up her glue gun and other craft supplies and set up my bunker: Computer, check... Extension cord, check... Cell phone, check. Let the day begin!I start calling everyone in my directory who may or may not have a lead. I tell them my plight -- well, at least my spin on it; I'm still technically employed for a few weeks before my three months of severance kick in, so I don't let on that I'm already fired and calling from my basement. No, I tell them my company is undergoing a lot of change and that I don't see much short- or long-term opportunity. I am ready for a new challenge.People listen. They're sympathetic; some even offer leads or names of recruiters to call. I talk to two co-workers who are at the office. In furtive whispers they tell me I'm lucky. They say how much it sucks that I'm no longer there -- and that it happened so close to the holidays. They reveal how the boss called a staff meeting to divvy up my accounts. They admit some colleagues have been circling like vultures and that even my cubicle has been picked clean of all supplies and accoutrements.Taking a page from Jerry Maguire, I call my former customers and let them know I'm on the market.I rework my r�sum� for the key accounts manager position open at our company's biggest competitor -- shamelessly inserting what I think are the keywords that will help it pass through the scanning software.I get a call back from a contract recruiter doing a search and e-mail my new r�sum� off to her, too.It's 3:30 p.m. I'm feeling pretty good about things, so I decide to rip open a bag of chips and burn a few CDs to celebrate. I am pleased with my progress, optimistic about my future and thrilled with my newfound flexibility. I begin to contemplate changing out of my pajamas and into some sweat pants when in walks my wife. By the look on her face, you'd think she'd caught me downloading porn or watching "General Hospital."I make a few more calls then put together my to-do list for the next day. The first item reads: Get dressed to avoid annoying working members of household.