It's a ploy straight out of a frat-house party guide: pink bracelet means available, green means on the prowl.
But the well-heeled guests donning the coloured bands at Toronto's Globe Bistro tonight won't be seeking heady flings.
They are chasing jobs.
The burgeoning craze of Pink Slip Parties has arrived in Canada, imported from the financial centres of the United States where fired financiers decided to drown their sorrows and network at the same time.
It's an idea grabbing attention around the world.
Japan will play host to its first pink-slip party tonight, aimed squarely at Tokyo financiers who used to rake in at least $100,000 (U.S.) a year.
And in the United States, pink-slip parties will be held in Pennsylvania tonight and New Jersey next week.
Tonight's event in Toronto isn't the first, but it's shaping up to be the biggest so far.
More than 150 people have signed up at the website www.pinkslipparty.ca, says event organizer Jean Treadwell.
More than 100 jobseekers have signed up for $20 tickets (proceeds go to Project Winter Survival charity), as have 20 recruiters and employment coaches, and a few dozen loyal friends going along as emotional support.
And the cross-section of industries is astounding, she said, ranging from IT workers to financial-services managers and professional writers.
“In some ways, that's disturbing, and speaks to how broad the [downturn] really is,” Ms. Treadwell said.
The event itself is a testament to networking: When Ms. Treadwell promoted the event to her personal network, and asked them to pass on the message, it steamrolled from there.
When the crowd gathers tonight, Ms. Treadwell says she'll know barely a quarter of the people in attendance.
And that is the key to the pink-slip party.
By trading tales, sharing information and networking, jobseekers will not only find support and a slice of commiseration, they may just shake loose an undiscovered opportunity.
It's too early to tell if Canada's first pink-slip party – held in downtown Toronto in March – has produced any jobs.
But organizes Shelly D'Mello and Samantha Pinto say they're already fielding requests to hold the monthly events more frequently as once-skeptical attendees leave the parties with handfuls of business cards and cheerful smiles.
“It's a chance to turn something devastating into something constructive,” Ms. D'Mello said.
“People feel a little bit helpless. It helps to be with someone who gets it.”
The friends found themselves in tough straits at the end of 2008: Ms. D'Mello launched her human resources company as the economy tanked, and Ms. Pinto was laid off shortly afterward.
As they scoured websites for work, they lamented the traditional job-seeking methods. Then they found stories about New York's pink-slip parties.
“There was something about removing yourself from a computer,” Ms. D'Mello said.
The first event attracted 80 people, mostly mid-to senior-level managers, with few twentysomethings in the mix.
The April event was smaller due to the Easter long-weekend, but the women are planning an education-focused party for May 14, with details to be posted at www.thepinkslipparty.com. They say they'll keep playing host to the free events as long as people want to attend.
“Everyone comes in, leaves their egos at the door, and just networks,” Ms. D'Mello said. “There was a real feeling of camaraderie.”
For Ms. Treadwell, the most obvious potential benefit is no longer needed.
The mother of two was laid off by Nortel last May. Despite widespread rumblings about the company, the investor-relations manager was shocked.
“Without exaggeration, it was like half my world was cut off,” she said.
And then she did the only thing she could think of: She worked her contacts to find consulting work, and this month Ms. Treadwell landed a full-time job with Rogers thanks to networking.
“The common goal is to broaden networks, even a little,” she said of tonight's event. “That overlap could open up opportunities.”
The personal economy is a series that looks at people in the Toronto region coping with the economic downturn. To share your story, write Tenille Bonoguore at tbonoguore@globeandmail.com
