To keep from bumping into the walls, he painted them. Sixty-five gallons of paint and thinner, covering his whole house, inside and out. Nobody has better-looking walls than Lou Elefante.

He rebuilt the deck, 55 pounds of screws, until it resembled a page from Popular Mechanics. He tuned up the lawnmower. His cars run like new. Lou does housework, a little, here and there, vacuuming and rearranging furniture. He has tried to stay busy, but after a year he says, "there's nothing left to do."

Here's the thing about being 48 years old and unemployed a year:

It's frustrating, it's tense, it's lonely. It's boring.

"I used to think I wanted to retire in my mid-50s," Elefante is saying. Now he knows he couldn't. "There's nothing to do and nobody to do it with. Now I know I could work 20 more years. Thirty more."

We keep waiting for the economy to come back, for stocks to rebound, for people like Lou Elefante to get work. It's like showing up at 5:30 for the 5 o'clock train.

Elefante has a degree in finance and 25 years' experience. He is a senior-level manager. He worked 15 years for Apple computers when it was an industry darling.

He's good with people. He's a good manager. He lost his job in February 2002 when the company he worked for, Omni-Sky Wireless, went belly-up. He hasn't found another one. Lou has three daughters, 13 to 18, in private school, and a wife taking chemotherapy for a mostly benign tumor in her brain. He has worked good-paying jobs and has saved well, but last year, his out-of-pocket medical costs came to $18,000.

It's scary out there. And it's not getting better.

Every day, Lou pounds the Internet pavement, checking job postings on the Web. Three times a week, he goes to the library, scanning the help-wanted ads in regional newspapers. He has had three interviews in the last year that matched his qualifications. Only one was in town. That job had 2,000 applicants. One job, 2,000 applicants.

"I talk with headhunters," he says. Lou's wearing a crisp, white button-down shirt and a fresh pair of slacks. He could be heading for work, only we're sitting at his kitchen table. "Is it a good thing I tell them I've been out of work a year? Most say, don't offer that information. Tell them if they ask. It's nothing to be ashamed of," Lou says. "It's a tough economy."

He has had eight interviews, total. The people were complimentary. They left him holding his hat.

They question his commitment. This is what Lou has gathered from a year of interviews. They see his qualifications. They believe he made more money than they're offering. They wonder if he would bolt as soon as he got offered more money. They hire the person with 10 years experience, instead of Lou, who has 25.

This sounds crazy. But this is the way of the economy in the spring of 2003.

We are about to wage war. We are hunting down terrorists no more tangible than curls of smoke. North Korea threatens to build more nuclear bombs. All of this is vitally important. No more than finding work for our own bright, motivated people who need it.

Lou wonders about his finances, he ponders his self-esteem. He analyzes his interviewing style: "What am I not doing right?" He does all this because it's important. Also because he has lots of time.

"I interviewed at a local university for an operations manager job,'' he says. "It was a good interview. We talked for an hour and a half. Then the guy says at the end, `Lou, you're an intelligent guy who could do this job. The problem is, in two years you'll have this place up and running. Then what am I going to do with you?' "

Lou said, "If in two years my work here is done, I'll put it on my resume and move on. If I can do the job for you now, I urge you to hire me."

Lou got a letter a few weeks later. They hired someone in-house.

"I thought a year ago, the economy would be better today," Lou says. "There are less jobs today."

Lou isn't down yet. "I wake up every morning saying, `today is the day.' I'm positive. What else can I do?"

Sell yourself, I say. Pretend I'm the person from human resources.

Lou Elefante leans up, puts his elbows on his kitchen table, clasps his hands as if in prayer. "You know where I've worked and what I've done," he says. "I can come into your organization and build relationships. I can be a positive force. I work well with people. My goal is to make this business a success."

Anyone interested?

E-mail pdaugherty@enquirer.com