Eight years ago, I had a career meltdown. Given that this also was the year of the September 11th terrorist attacks and a period of dramatic economic downturn in the United States, I suppose, in hindsight, that my career problems seem a tad unimportant by comparison. But if you’ve ever been in a situation where you find yourself wondering what happened to your career, how you’re going to hold on to the job you’ve got without losing your mind, or simply what to tell your mother the next time she asks about “the job situation,” then you know how all-consuming a career drama can be.

Here’s the short version of my Shakespeare-like tragedy: I had a job, and I was laid off, along with thousands of my coworkers at our dot com consulting firm that provided “technology solutions” (still not quite sure what that means) to…you guessed it…other dot coms. The year was 2001, and, as we’ve already covered, probably not our best year on record. You couldn’t open a newspaper without reading about rounds of layoffs, rising unemployment rates, or articles about the bankruptcy filing of yet another dot com entity – with an ‘I told you so’ tone thrown in, just in case the rest of us didn’t realize, by that point, that being employed by a startup, run by someone who couldn’t even do his own laundry yet, may not have been the best career move in history.

Yes, friends, times were tough, and I was simply another face in the crowd, reeling from my layoff, uncertain about how I was going to find work when everyone else I knew was in the same boat with me – looking, but getting nowhere. Job seekers flooded the marketplace, companies weren’t hiring, and stress was mounting.

Fast forward: It’s 2009, and if you’re able to read these words, then you already know that those career uncertainties from eight years ago – the ones that reflect genuine career doubt, even pessimism – haven’t gone anywhere. And here’s a key bit of information I left out during my Act I job drama: The dot com job that I was shocked to have been laid off from was also the same job I secretly couldn’t stand. Truth be told, I was just a wee bit thrilled to have a reason to not show up to work, even if it meant another job search, financial uncertainty, and some good, old-fashioned fear about what the future held for me.

Here’s what I did know: If I was going to have to work extra-hard to find a job in an extremely competitive market, then I wasn’t going to sweat it out for nothing. I was determined that my next career move wouldn’t be into another job that I couldn’t stand – now was the time to try anything and everything if it meant having a career that I really could feel good about. I also knew this: That life was too short to wait for a recession to end or for an economy to resolve itself in order to find career happiness. I wasn’t getting any younger, and if the lessons of September 11th had taught me anything, it was that life could be short, the clock was ticking, and I owed it to myself to put my days of career meltdowns behind me.

Here’s the good news: Today, I have work, a career I love, and a great life. But before I start sending myself flowers, here are a few things I learned along the way:

It isn’t other people’s jobs to remember me. It’s my job to make sure they don’t forget me. I kept feeling hurt and rejected when people wouldn’t return my calls or answer my emails. Now, I know that people are way to busy to remember me and the work I do unless I remind them.

In the words of one of my favorite speakers, marketing needs to be low tech, high tech, no tech, and shameless. True marketing and networking goes way beyond sending people emails, and I got serious about using the phone and other channels of distribution to share my value with clients.

One attempt does not a failure make. I’d try something, and it wouldn’t work, or I’d call someone or pitch something, and they wouldn’t be interested - and I’d assume that the story was over. Now, I’m the gift that keeps on giving, and I don’t disappear or faint at the first ‘no.’ Sometimes, ‘no’ means, ‘not right now, call us in six months and we’ll see.’ Now, I work hard to stay on the radar screen and stick around for the long term.