The record of the year in his life when he ""worked ten hours a day to be a bum,"" by an ad executive who at thirty-eight found himself edged out of his agency and in a phone booth in Grand Central instead of an office. It is a story which elicits but does not ask for a good deal of sympathy. The progression from high hopes of the contact leads in July to the time in January when the list ran out, the build-ups that led to let-downs, are a part of the picture. It was not in every way a lost year; it was an instructive one. Dodd learned from his new friends of Job Hunters, Inc. as they compared their innings over lunch, from his salesman friend Phil who told him to watch out for the guy who kicks the cat when no one is looking, from experiences with corporations on Madison Avenue and businesses on Ocean Avenue, and on the home front from a recalcitrant butcher and a rebellious older son. As the year moved, so did his sights and values, and it was a different man who emerged to take a job in the suburbs, to live in a new neighborhood, and to face a future that would never be the same either. An honest, painful re-living of a bad time that many men face singly if not alone.