Out of work -- and scared. (Comment).

IF you're out of a job -- and there are better than 9 million of you -- it's been a long wait. Lots of dashed hopes about this economic indicator or that fiscal stimulus. Lots of assurances from personnel departments that the next quarter will be better -- only it becomes the second half of the year and then next year. Lots of noise from pols about how they're looking out for you.

Technically, the recession is long gone, but if your workday consists of scouring Monster.com and hanging out at Barnes & Noble, it sure doesn't feel that way.

It feels, well, sickening and depressing. Scary, too, with your bank account drying up. You wake up in the middle of the night wondering how you'll pay the mortgage if this goes on much longer.

You feel like a bum. You know you shouldn't because there are plenty of capable folks out there in your shoes and the HR guy giving you the bad news kept emphasizing there was nothing wrong with your work. Heck, you have all those great performance reviews somewhere out in the garage.

So how come you keep wondering why Joe and Sally are still there and you're not? Your brain flashes to the day you were snotty to a supervisor or didn't stay late to finish an assignment. Did that stuff get me on the list?

You line up friends and former colleagues who might help you with job leads. You feel funny about calling the ones you haven't spoken to in years. Like how much small talk before getting to the point? They all sound sympathetic but their tips are vague. Companies you thought were hiring aren't; suggested contacts are no longer working where they're supposed to. A buddy promises to put in a good word with some big cheese, but you keep leaving voicemails that are never returned.

Truth is, nobody really cares. They're all too busy protecting their own backside.

Meanwhile, there are a lot of hours to fill each day. No matter what they say, job hunting is not a full-time pursuit. You had promised yourself to do something constructive. Catch up on your reading. Maybe take piano lessons -- you've always wanted to do that. Still, it's very hard. You're not a kid anymore, when post-college loafing was an entrypoint into adulthood (remember "The Graduate"?). At this stage of life, work is part of your routine. It's a comfort, a constant.

Your wife wants to be supportive, but it's hard for her too. She's not used to having you around all the time, so there are the inevitable flare-ups. She's also not accustomed to seeing you this vulnerable; the other day you got turned down some place and you started blubbering like a 2-year-old. She tried to console you but you could tell she was startled. So out of character.

You keep wondering when the nightmare will end. There have been stirrings of late, what with the market edging back up and the tax bill kicking in. Still, you've been on this road before -- when the Fed kept cuffing interest rates, when ad spending started going up, when oil prices came down. Nothing came of any of it.

Sooner or later you know it will happen. You will get a call and someone at the other end will tell you you're in -- that you'll soon wake up Monday mornings with a place to go. But the waiting is driving you nuts. You and the 9 million others. Is anyone out there listening?

Mark Lacter is editor of the Business Journal.