I've noticed you around. I find you very attractive.

A hunter-gatherer must identify his or her weapon of choice immediately in order to survive in the wild. The weapon must then be sharpened and honed until you can count on it to save your life. When assessing my post layoff budget (including anticipated NY State Unemployment Benefits to begin late December: https://ui.labor.state.ny.us/UBC/home.do), I see very little areas where I can cut back. I don't really shop that much, my rent is extraordinarily reasonable for Manhattan, I usually walk over taking the subway or even a cab, I used to bring my lunch to the office, and I even get my hair cut in Brooklyn for crying outloud. But somehow, every month my checking account hovers near zero before the next payday so I must be extravagant somewhere in my spending. I have narrowed it down to alcohol (retail), as well as dinners and concerts where I drink alcohol. As well as taxis and late night pizza slices or sketchy deli sandwiches (they add up) that I pay for after consuming alcohol.... and hungover brunches where I feed my body grease and fizzy beverages as penance for the previous night's binge on alcohol.

Earlier this year, a friend and I decided to monitor our weekly and monthly intake of alcohol units and nights out drinking. This exercise indicated that, on average, I consume 20* units of alcohol and go out probably 4.5* times per week (*please note these records were lost with the shutdown of my computer at work. Stats are also subject to seasons: summer, Christmas, and unemployment** season would typically be higher consumption. **please also note I have had 4 bottles of Red Stripe and 1 glass of Trader Joe Shiraz as I write this). This pattern may suggest that I must be throwing away my expendable income on nights out drinking and eating. Given that I will need to save this cash cushion while I get my extra month of salary, and then will not have any extra once I'm on the NY State payroll, this expense needs to be drastically downsized without cramping my social life.

A few things I have started doing to prepare myself for the recession: walking to the liquor store 2 blocks away instead of ordering for delivery saves on tipping the delivery guy, taking the subway to the evening's first destination (unless the cost of the cab per person is less than $2), looking for BYOB places when a night out for dinner is necessary (recent recommendation: http://nymag.com/listings/restaurant/open-the-sesame/), and implementing a strictly celibate relationship with late night eating. While these recent strides speak to the gatherer in me and will invariably prolong my survival in the wild, they are not the lethal weapon I will need for ultimate Darwinist domination. Ergo,Weapon of Choice: Flirting. The hunter in me has begun to flirt with guys (and once with a female bartender on Friday night) in bars long enough to get myself a drink. I typically do not bother talking to guys in bars if I find them dull, which is quite often. I'm also in the habit of walking away without having a drink or exchanging phone numbers, even if I do find the gentleman mildly interesting. I typically test a guy's knowledge of music, worldly experience (I traditionally and unfairly avoid all Americans), or ability to engage in witty banter. I clearly need to adapt if I'm going to survive.

My first attempt to flirt at a bar came pretty quickly with a guy whom I had met before at a party. Not only is he fratty and American, but he is actually borderline meathead/cro-magnon. Pretty much the opposite of what I am attracted to. My roommates seemed to be into his friends though so I went along with it. It turns out he was recently laid off so we had a few things to talk about and the conversation was off to a smooth start. I was making eye contact and asking earnest questions about the Redskins, and even when I showed blatant disgust at his general ignorance he didn't seem to mind (or catch on). I noticed his beer was gone and, as good manners and good luck would have it, he bought one for himself and one for me. Not bad! Once I had secured my bev, I felt more relaxed and talked to the other guys he was with. I even saw another complimentary bev in my future until they suggested meeting more of their friends at Brother Jimmy's. Eeek!Emergency Red Flag Is Up. Although a hunter-gatherer needs drinks to survive the NYC social scene, it should only be to improve your quality of life and never make it exponentially worse. No situation is dire enough to change your beliefs or lifestyle so drastically to go to Brother Jimmy's for anything other than a pulled-pork po'boy.

You've Been Made Redundant

In the months leading up to my illustrious redundancy, I often considered what I would do if I were laid off like so many in post-Lehman Brothers New York City. Having lackluster interest and no real skills in finance, I was not too concerned about a forced reconsideration of my career, so was able to entertain my wildest fantasies. I had whittled my options down to the following: A) save up enough money to travel around South America for a few months B) Pray that my parents were saving up for a large dowry and had pre-arranged my marriage to a European aristocrat or C) live out my ultimate fantasy of becoming a hunter-gatherer.

Last week my team was told in a conference call our business was being dissolved, so I finally got my golden ticket to partake in one of the aforementioned contingency plans. Unfortunately my timing was way off. My savings will barely keep me alive for next few months, let alone get me to South America. My parents seem to have more "modern" ideas about marriage than I had hoped for and evidently have not saved for my dowry nor have they been to continental Europe in the past 20 years. Although my mom did pledge their support after a post-layoff drunken phone call threatening to sell my eggs on Craigslist. Alas, I am left with hunter-gatherer.

When I first made this plan, I imagined the real thing: living in total isolation in nature, gathering roots, eating what I kill, etc. However, I also did not have the foresight to take any nature survival courses, so I will be forced to live out my Plan B in a less natural (albeit much more dangerous) setting. When we were asked to leave our midtown office building around 10:30am on a Tuesday, my instincts kicked in. Having never had a martini (I realize this is very uncool but I detest olives) or Jameson, I was alarmed by my urgent need for both. I was impressed, however, at how quickly I was already in touch with nature and receiving clear messages from my body to drink alcohol! One of my (ex)colleagues and I crawled our way downtown, stopping in most dark or dodgy looking Irish pubs we had always tried to avoid. Although a hunter-gatherer should never actually be pitiful or pathetic, it is sometimes important to appear so when free drinks/food are a possibility. And if you are successful in the hunt, you must eat what you kill. Even if olives and whisky make you want to gag.

As I toured the majority of pubs between 55th street and 26th street that day, my survival instincts prevailed and the martinis and Jameson shots followed sans tab. I think I should attribute this early success to adrenalin, desperation and utter shock. Or maybe it was purely logical for bartenders to assume you just got laid off when you pull up to a bar midmorning in your business suit with two bags full of the highheels you kept under your desk and take pity. When I woke up the next day still wearing my work clothes and frantically looking for my blackberry, I realized it wasn't all just a dream. I really am the hunter-gatherer I always wanted to be, except now I need to learn the skills to survive.