The Job Hunt

In the last 24 hours I've gone from sulking over The Blind Assassin, to trying to sleep my life away, to devouring an entire box of BIG Cheez-Its while watching Mulholland Drive, to dancing with Mack in the kitchen, to calling every member of my family, to trying the new pomegranate Frapuccino at Starbucks (stick with green tea), to feeling like a human being worthy of oxygen again. See, I finally got offered a job.

What a difference a day makes. Yesterday, I was ready to hang up my professional hat and start waiting tables at the Casa Escobar or, worse, actually apply at the dry cleaner's up the road. I had a second interview with people far more qualified and daring than myself on Wednesday, and, based on the enthusiasm and hasty response I got following my first interview, expected to hear something on Thursday. I didn't. Hence the Cheez-Its and bed time.

I was devastated. Mostly because it was something I really wanted, and I'm spoiled and usually get what I want, but also because this was the second interview I'd been on that I thought I completely nailed. I mean I walked home (did I mention it's a job I can walk to?) on cloud nine, thinking I could do this job better than anyone else, thinking I'd really love to do this job better than anyone else, thinking I had this job. Then silence.

I figured that was because bad news is harder to give out than good news. I figured the woman who'd made me so excited and feel so promising had been scolded for having bad judgment and was now too ashamed to tell me. I figured my only prospect, or the only one I cared about, was coming apart, shattering all the eggs I'd packed into that basket of hope.

I cried. I was mean and nasty. I blamed Mack for telling his parents I got the job before I actually got it and jinxing me. I blamed me for being so out of touch with people that I could take a completely different feeling from the exact same event. I was a loser. I didn't deserve a job. I gave up.

And then she called. They all loved me. They want me to work for them. They want to grow my skills and expand my brain and consider my input. And pay me for it. So now I'm walking to the magic shop, sampling new coffee drinks, dancing in the kitchen, and feeling like a competent human being again.

I am, for the first time in three and a half years, an employee with health insurance. Watch out moles. I'm coming for ya! (on my lunch break, of course!)

The Fine Print (that I've lost the ability to make fine): I'll be Senior Editor for a website that is still in production and is only partially released -- conducting interviews with women positively transforming their lives, writing copy to bring smiles to people's faces, challenging women to be better than they think they can be, and enjoying a paycheck.